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THE WRITINGS

OF

THOMAS PAINE

COLLECTED AND EDITED BY

MONCURE DANIEL CONWAY
AUTHOR OF " THB LIFE OF THOMAS PAINE," " OMITTED CHAPTERS OF HISTORY
DISCLOSED IN THE LIFE AND PAPERS OF EDMUND RANDOLPH,"
" GEORGE WASHINGTON AND MOUNT VERNON," ETC.

VOLUME II.
1 779- 1 792

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK LONDON
27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
8% Jfoitfurbodur |)rtgg
1906

COPYRIGHT, 1894
by G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London

Ubc -Rnfcfeerbocftet press, Ttew Sorb

CONTENTS.

FAGS
I. — Peace and the Newfoundland Fisheries . . i
II. — The American Philosophical Society . . 26
III. — Emancipation of Slaves  29
IV. — Public Good  31
V. — Letter to the Abbe Raynal .... 67
i VI. — Dissertations on Government ; the Affairs of
the Bank ; and Paper Money . . . 132
VII. — The Society for Political Inquiries . . . 188
VIII. — Prospects on the Rubicon  191
IX. — Specification of Thomas Paine . . . .227
X. — Letter to Jefferson in Paris . . . .231
XI. — Thomas Paine's Answer to Four Questions on
the Legislative and Executive Powers . 236
XII. — Address and Declaration  253
J XIII.— The Rights of Man  258
XIV. — The Rights of Man Part Second. . . . 398

I.
PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND
FISHERIES.1 (First Letter.)
messieurs hall and sellers.
Gentlemen, A piece of very extraordinary complexion made its ap
pearance in your last paper, under the signature of Ameri-
canus, and what is equally as extraordinary, I have not yet
met with one advocate in its favour. To write under the
curse of universal reprobation is hard indeed, and proves
that either the writer is too honest for the world he lives in,
or the world, bad as it is, too honest for him to write in.
Some time last winter a worthy member of the Assembly
of this State put into my hands, with some expressions of
surprize, a motion which he had copied from an original
shewn to him by another member, who intended to move it
in the House. The purport of tkdt, and the doctrine of
Americanus, bear such strong resemblance to each other,
that I make no hesitation in believing them both generated
from the same parents. The intended motion, however,
withered without being put, and Americanus, by ventur
ing into being, has exposed himself to a less tranquil exit.
Whether Americanus sits in Congress or not, may be the
subject of future enquiry ; at present I shall content myself
with making some strictures on what he advances.
He takes it for granted that hints towards a negociation
for peace have been made to Congress, and that a debate
1 From the Pennsylvania Gazette, June 30, 1779.

2 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [I779
has taken place in that House respecting the terms on which
such a negociation shall be opened.
" It is reported," says he, " that Congress are still debating what
the terms shall be, and that some men strenuously insist on such
as others fear will not be agreed to, and as they apprehend may
prevent any treaty at all, and such as our ally [France], by his
treaties with us, is by no means bound to support us in demanding."
Americanus, after running through a variety of introduc
tory matter, comes at last to the point, and intimates, or
rather informs, that the particular subject'of debate in Con
gress has been respecting the fisheries on the Banks of New
foundland, some insisting thereon as a matter of right and
urging it as a matter of absolute necessity, others doubting,
or appearing to doubt whether we have any right at all, and
indifferent whether the fisheries be claimed or not. Among
the latter of which Americanus appears to be one.
Either Americanus does not know how to make a bargain,
or he has already made one, and his affectation of modesty
is the dress of design. How, I ask, can Americanus, or any
other person, know what claims or proposals will be rejected
or what agreed to, till they be made, offered or demanded.
To suppose a rejection is to invite it, and to publish our
" apprehensions" as a reason for declining the claim, is en
couraging the enemy to fulfil the prediction. Americanus
may think what he pleases, but for my own part, I hate a
prophecier of ill-luck, because the pride of being thought
wise often carries him to the wrong side.
That an inhabitant of America or a member of Congress
should become an advocate for the exclusive right of Britain
to the fisheries, and signify, as his opinion, that an American
has not a right to fish in the American seas, is something
very extraordinary.
" It is a question," says he, " whether the subjects of these states
had any other right to fishing than what they derived from their
being subjects of Great Britain ; and as it cannot be pretended that
they were in the possession and enjoyment of the right either at th

I77Q] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 3
time of the declaration of independence or of signing the treaties of
Paris, nor that it was ever included in any one of the charters of the
United States, it cannot be surprising that many, who judge a peace
necessary for the happiness of these states, should be afraid of
the consequences which may follow from making this an ultima
tum in a negociation."
I should be glad to know what ideas Americanus affixes to
the words peace and independence ; they frequently occur in
his publication, but he uses them in such a neutral manner,
that they have neither energy or signification. Peace, it is
true, has a pleasant sound, but he has nibbled it round, like
Dr. Franklin's description of a gingerbread cake, till scarcely
enough is left to guess at the composition. To be at peace
certainly implies something more than barely a cessation of
war. It is supposed to be accompanied with advantages
adequate to the toils of obtaining it. It is a state of pros
perity as well as safety, and of honour as well as rest. His
independence too is made up of the same letters which com
pose the independence of other nations, but it has something
so sickly and consumptive in its constitution, so limping and
lingering in its manner, that at best it is but in leading
strings, and fit rather for the cradle than the cabinet. But
to return to his argument :
Americanus has placed all his reasons the wrong way, and
drawn the contrary conclusions to what he ought to have
done. He doubts the right of the States to fish, because it
is not mentioned in any of the charters. Whereas, had it
been mentioned, it might have been contended that the
right in America was only derivative ; and been given as an
argument that the original right lay in Britain. Therefore
the silence of the charters, added to the undisturbed practice
of fishing, admit the right to exist in America naturally, and
not by grant, and in Britain only consequentially ; for Britain
did not possess the fisheries independent of America, but in
consequence of her dominions in America. Her claiming
territory here was her title deed to the fisheries, in the same
manner that Spain claims Faulkland's Island, by possessing

4 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i779
the Spanish continent ; and therefore her right to those
fisheries was derived through America, and not the right of
America through Britain. Wedded to the continent, she
inherited its fortunes of islands and fisheries, but divorced
therefrom, she ceases her pretentions.
What Americanus means by saying, that it cannot be pre
tended we were in the possession and enjoyment of the right
either at the time of the declaration of independence or of
signing the treaty of Paris, I am at a loss to conceive; for
the right being natural in America, and not derivative, could
never cease, and though by the events of war she was at
that time dispossessed of the immediate enjoyment, she
could not be dispossessed of the right, and needed no other
proofs of her title than custom and situation.
Americanus has quoted the 2d and nth articles of the
treaty of Paris, by way of showing that the right to the
fisheries is not one of those rights which France has under
taken to guarantee.
To which I answer, that he may say the same by any
particular right, because those articles describe no particular
rights, but are comprehensive of every right which apper
tains to sovereignty, of which fishing in the American seas
must to us be one.
Will Americanus undertake to persuade, that it is not the
interest of France to endeavour to secure to her ally a
branch of trade which redounds to the mutual interest of
both, and without which the alliance will lose half its worth ?
Were we to propose to surrender the right and practice of
fishing to Britain, we might reasonably conclude that France
would object to such a surrender on our part, because it
would not only render us a less valuable ally in point of
commerce as well as power, but furnish the enemy of both
with a new acquisition of naval strength; the sure and
natural consequence of possessing the fisheries.
Americanus admits the fisheries to be an " object of great
consequence to the United States, to two or three of them more
especially." Whatever is of consequence to any, is so to all ; for wealth

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 5
like water soon spreads over the surface, let the place of en
trance be ever so remote ; and in like manner, any portion
of strength which is lost or gained to any one or more States,
is lost or gained to the whole ; but this is more particularly
true of the naval strength, because, when on the seas it acts
immediately for the benefit of all, and the ease with which
it transports itself takes in the whole coast of America, as
expeditiously as the land forces of any particular State can
be arranged for its own immediate defence. But of all the
States of America, New York ought to be the most anxious
to secure the fisheries as a nursery for a navy ; — because the
particular situation of that State, on account of its deep
waters, is such, that it will ever be exposed to the approaches
of an enemy, unless it be defended by a navy ; and if any of
the delegates of that State has acted a contrary part, he or
they have either designedly or ignorantly betrayed the in
terest of their constituents, and deserve their severest censure.
Through the whole of this curious and equivocal piece, the
premises and arguments have, in themselves, a suspicious
appearance of being unfairly if not unjustly stated, in order
to admit of, and countenance, wrong conclusions ; for taking
it for granted that Congress have been debating upwards of
four months what the terms shall be on which they shall
open a negociation, and that the House are divided respect
ing their opinion of those terms, it does not follow from
thence that the "public have been deceived" with regard to
the news said to have arrived last February ; and if they are
deceived, the question is who deceived them ? Neither do
several other conclusions follow which he has attempted to
draw, of which the two I shall now quote are sufficient
instances. " If," says Americanus, " the insisting on terms which neither the
declaration of independence nor the treaties of Paris authorized us to
challenge as our rights, have caused the late, otherways unac
countable delays, and prevented a peace, or at least a negociation
being opened for one, those who have challenged and insisted on these
claims are justly responsible for the consequences."

THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE.

[1779

This I look on to be truly Jesuitical; for the delay cannot
be occasioned by those who propose, but by those who oppose,
and therefore the construction should stand thus :
If the objecting to rights and claims, which are neither in
consistent with the declaration of independence or the treaties
of Paris, and naturally included and understood in both, has
caused the late, otherways unaccountable delays, and pre
vented a peace, or at least a negociation for one, those who
made such objections, and thereby caused such delays and pre
vented such negociations being gone into, are justly responsible
for the consequences.
His next position is of the same cast, and admits of the
same reversion.
" Governor Johnstone," says he, " in the House of Commons
freely declared he had made use, while in America, of other
means to effect the purpose of his commission than those of rea
son and argument; have we not," continues Americanus, "good
right from present appearances to believe that in this instance he de
clared the truth.''
To this wonderful supposition I shall apply another, viz.
That if Governor Johnstone did declare the truth, who have
we most right to suspect, those who are for relinquishing the
fisheries to Britain, or those who are for retaining them ?
Upon the whole, I consider the fisheries of the utmost im
portance to America, and her natural right thereto so clear
and evident, that it does not admit of a debate, and to
surrender them is a species of treason for which no punish
ment is too severe.
I have not stept out of my way to fetch in either an
argument or a fact, but have confined my reply to the piece,
without regard to who the author is, or whether any such
debates have taken place or not, or how far it may or not
have been carried on one side or the other.
Common Sense.
Philadelphia, June 26, 1779.

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 7

PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND
FISHERIES.1 (Second Letter.)
Americanus, in your last, has favoured the public with a
description of himself as a preface to his piece. " I am,"
says he, " neither a Member of Congress or of the Assembly of
this State, or of any other, but a private citizen, in moderate
circumstances in point of fortune, and whose political prin
ciples have never been questioned." All this may be very true,
and yet nothing to the purpose ; neither can the declaration
be admitted either as a positive or negative proof of what
his principles are. They may be good, or they may not, and
yet be so well known as not to be doubted by those who
know the writer. Joseph Galloway formerly wrote under
the signature of Americanus, and tho' every honest man
condemns his principles, yet nobody pretends to question
them. When a writer, and especially an anonymous one,
readily means to declare his political principles as a rein
forcement to his arguments, he ought to be full, clear, and
decisive, but this declaration is so ambiguously constructed
and so unmeaningly applied, that it may be used by any
and every person either within or without the enemy's lines,
for it does not declare what his principles are, but that, be
they what they may, they are not questioned.
Before I proceed, I cannot help taking notice of another
inconsistency in his publication of last week. " In my last,"
says he, " I said that it was very unhappy that this question
has been touched on or agitated at all at this time, to which,"
continues he, " I will now add, it is particularly so, that it is
become a subject of discussion in the public papers." This
is very extraordinary from the very man who first brought
it into the public papers. A short piece or two, on the im
portance of fisheries in general, were anonymously published
some time ago ; but as a matter of treaty debate in Congress,
or as a matter of right in itself, with the arguments and
grounds on which they proceeded, Americanus is originally
' From the Pennsylvania Gazette, July 14, 1779.

THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i779

chargeable with the inconvenience he pretends to lament. I
with some others had heard, or perhaps knew, that such a
subject was in debate, and tho' I always laid myself out to
give it a meeting in the papers when ever it should appear,
I never hinted a thought that might tend to start it.
" To permit the public," says Americanus, " to be made
acquainted with what are to be the ultimate demands in a
proposed treaty is really something new and extraordinary,
if not impolitic and absurd." — There is a compound of folly
and arrogance in this declaration, which deserves to be
severely censured. Had he said, that to publish all the
arguments of Congress, on which any claim in a proposed
treaty are founded or objected to, might be inconvenient
and in some cases impolitic, he would have been nearly right ;
but the ultimate demand itself ought to be made known,
together with the rights and reasons on which that demand
is founded.
But who is this gentleman who undertakes to say, that to
permit the public to be made acquainted is really impolitic
and absurd ? And to this question I will add, that if he
distinguishes Congress into one body, and the public into
another, I should be glad to know in what situation he
places himself, so as not to be subject to his own charge of
absurdity. If he belongs to the former, he has, according
to his own position, a right to know but not to tell, and if
to the latter, he has neither a right to know nor to tell, and
yet in some character or other he has done both. If this
gentleman's political principles were never questioned be
fore, I think they ought to be questioned now ; for a man
must be a strange character indeed, whom no known char
acter can suit.
I am the more inclined to suspect Americanus, because
he most illiberally, and in contradiction to everything sen
sible and reasonable, endeavoured, in his former piece, to
insinuate that Governor Johnstone had bribed a party in
Congress to insist on the right of the United States to fish on
the Banks of Newfoundland. An insinuation so impolitic
and absurd, so wide and foreign to the purpose of Governor

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 9
Johnstone's commission, can only be understood the con
trary way ; namely, that he had bribed somebody or other
to insist that the right should not be insisted on.
The expression of Governor Johnstone, as printed in the
English papers, is literally this. " I do not," says he, " mean
to disavow I have had transactions, where other means have
been used besides persuasion." Governor Johnstone was in
no places in America but Philadelphia and New-York, and
these other means must have been used in one or other, or
both of these places. We have had evidence of one appli
cation of his, with an offer of ten thousand guineas, which
was refused, and treated with the disdain it deserved ; for
the offer of a bribe contains in it, to all men of spirit, the
substance of an affront. But it is strange indeed, if the one
that was refused was the only one that was offered. Let
any person read Americanus in your paper of June 23, and
if he can after that acquit him of all suspicion, he must be
charitable indeed.
But why does not Americanus declare who he is ? This
is no time for concealment, neither are the presses, tho'
free, to become the vehicles of disguised poison. I have
had my eye on that signature these two months past, and to
what lengths the gentleman meant to go himself can best
decide. In his first piece he loosely introduced his intended poli
tics, and put himself in a situation to make further advances.
His second was a rapid progress, and his last a retreat. The
difference between the second and the last is visible. In
the former of those two he endeavours to invalidate the
right of the United States to fish on the Banks of New
foundland, because, forsooth, it was not mentioned in any
of the former charters. It is very extraordinary that these
same charters, which marked out and were the instruments
of our dependence, should now be introduced as describing
the line of our independence. In the same piece Americanus
likewise says, " it is a question whether the subjects of these
states had any other right to that fishery, than what they de
rived from being the subjects of Great-Britain." If this be not

IO THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i779

advocating the cause of the enemy, I know not what is. It
is news-paper advice to them to insist on an exclusive right
to the fisheries, by insinuating ours to be only a derivative
one from them ; which, had it been the case, as it is not,
would have been very improper doctrine to preach at the
first instance of a negotiation. If they have any right, let
them find those rights out themselves. We shall have
enough to do to look to our own side of the question, and
ought not to admit persons among us to join force with the
enemy either in arms or argument.
Whether Americanus found himself approaching a stormy
latitude, and fearing for the safety of his bark, thought proper
to tack about in time, or whether he has changed his appetite,
and become an epicure in fish, or his principles, and become
an advocate for America, must be left for his own decision ;
but in his last week's publication he has surrendered the
grounds of his former one, and changed the argument from
a matter of right to a matter of supposed convenience only.
He no more speaks of our right to the fisheries as a deriva
tive right from Britain, in consequence of our formerly being
subjects. Not a syllable of the charters, whose silence he
had produced as invalidating or negativing our independent
right. Neither has he endeavoured to support, or offered to
renew, what he had before asserted — namely, that we were
not in possession of the right of fishing at the time of the
declaration of independence, or of the signing the treaties of
Paris ; but he has admitted a theorem which I had advanced
in opposition to his suggestions, and which no man can con
tradict, viz. that our right to fish on the Banks of Newfound
land is a natural right. Now if our right is natural, it could
not be derived from subjection, and as we never can but by
our own voluntary consent be put out of the possession of
a natural national right, tho' by the temporary events of war
we may be put out of the enjoyment of such a right, and as
the British fishery Act of Parliament in seventy-six to ex
clude us was no act of ours, and universally denied by us,
therefore, from his own admission, he has contradicted him
self, and allowed that we were as fully in possession of the

1 7 7 9 j PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. II
right of fishing on those Banks, both at the time of the
declaration of independence, and at the time of signing the
treaties of Paris, as at any period preceding them.
That he has admitted the natural right in his last piece, in
contradiction to his supposed derivative right in his former
one, will appear from two or three quotations I shall
make. ist. He says, "The giving up of our right to this object (the
fisheries) and the making an express demand to have it guarantied
to us, or the passing it over in silence in negociation, are distinct
things." 2d. " I am well assured," he says, " that there is not a member
in Congress any ways disposed to give up or relinquish our right to
the Newfoundland fishery."
The " right " here admitted cannot be a right derived from
subjection, because we are no longer British subjects ; neither
can it be a right conveyed by charters, because we not only
know no charters now, but those charters we used to know
are silent on the matter in question. It must therefore be a
natural right. Neither does the situation of America and
Britain admit of any other explanation, because they are,
with respect to each other, in a state of nature, not being
even within the law of nations ; for the law of nations is the
law of treaties, compounded with customary usage, and be
tween America and Britain there is yet no treaty, nor any
national custom established.
But the third quotation I shall make from his last piece
will prove, from his own words, his assent to the natural
right which I contended for in behalf of these states, and
which he, in his former piece, impliedly disowned, by putting
our whole right on a question, and making our former sub
jection the grounds on which that question stood.
" I drew no conclusion," he says, " to exclude these States, or
bar them from the right which by nature they are entitled to with
others, as well to the fishery on the Banks of Newfoundland as to
those in the ocean at large."

12 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [17 79
As he now admits a natural right, and appears to contend
for it, I ask, why then was his former piece published, and
why was our right there put in the lowest terms possible ?
He does not in that piece even hint, or appear to think of,
or suppose such a thing as a natural right, but stakes the
issue on a question which does not apply to the case, and
went as far as a man dared to go, in saying we had no right
at all. From all this twisting and turning, this advancing
and retreating, and appearing to own at last what he im
pliedly disowned at first, I think myself justified in drawing
this conclusion, that either Americanus does not know how
to conduct an argument, or he intended to be a traitor if he
dared. The natural right of the United States in those fisheries
is either whole or in part. If to the whole, she can admit a
participation to other nations. If to a part, she, in conse
quence of her natural right to partake, claims her share
therein, which is for as much as she can catch and carry
away. Nature, in her distribution of favors, seems to have
appointed these fisheries as a property to the northern divi
sion of America, from Florida upwards, and therefore our
claim of an exclusive right seems to be rationally and con
sistently founded ; but our natural right to what we can
catch is clear, absolute and positive.
Had Americanus intended no more than to consider our
claim, whether it should be made or not, as a matter of con
venience only, which is the stage he has now brought it to,
he ought by no means to have made even the slightest
stroke at the right itself ; because to omit making the claim
in the treaty, and to assign the doubtfulness of the right as
a reason for the omission, is to surrender the fisheries upon
the insufficiency of the pretension, and of consequence to
exclude ourselves from the practice by the silence of the
treaty, and from the right by the reasons upon record.
Had I time to laugh over my fish, I could in this place set
Americanus up to a very agreeable ridicule. He has all this
while been angling without a bait, and endeavouring to de
ceive with an empty hook, and yet this man says he under-

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 1 3
stands fishing as well as any man in America. " Very few,"
says he, " and T speak it without vanity, are better acquainted
with the fisheries than myself." If this be true, which I
hope it is not, it is the best reason that can be given for
relinquishing them, and if made known would, on the other
hand, be a great inducement to Britain to cede the whole
right, because by our being possessed of a right without
knowing how to use it, she would be under no apprehen
sions of our thinning the ocean, and we should only go out
with our vessels to buy, and not to catch.
If Americanus wished to persuade the Americans to say
nothing about the fisheries in a treaty with Britain, he
ought, as a politician of some kind or other, to have baited
his hook with a plausible something, and, instead of telling
them that their right was doubtful, he should have assured
them it was indisputable, that Britain never meant to ques
tion it, that it was needless to say anything about it, that all
nations knew our rights, and naturally meant to acknowl
edge them. But he, like a wiseacre, has run against the post
instead of running past it, and has, by the arguments he has
used, produced a necessity for doing the very thing he was
writing to prevent ; and yet this man says he understands
fishing as well as any man in America — It must be a cod
indeed that should be catched by him !
Common Sense.
Philadelphia, July 12, 1779.

PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND
FISHERIES.1 (Third Letter.)
The importance of the fisheries Americanus has kept
almost totally out of sight. Why he has done so, his readers
will contrive to guess at, or himself may explain. A bare
confession, loosely scattered here and there, and marked
with the countenance of reluctance, is all he gives on the
subject. Surely, the public might have expected more from
1 From the Pennsylvania Gazette, July 21, 1779.

14 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i779
a man, who declares " he can, without vanity say, that very
few are better acquainted with the nature and extent of the
American fisheries than himself." If he really possesses the
knowledge he affirms, he ought to have been as prolific on
the subject as the fish he was treating of : And as he has
not, I am obliged to suspect either the reality of his
knowledge, or the sincerity of his intentions. If the declara
tion be not true, there are enow to fix his title ; and if true,
it shews that a man may keep company all his life-time
with cod, and be little the wiser. But to the point, 
There are but two natural sources of wealth and strength
— the Earth and the Ocean — and to lose the right to either
is, in our situation, to put up the other to sale. Without
the fisheries, independence would be a bubble. It would
not deserve the name ; and however we might, in such a
condition, please ourselves with the jingle of the word, the
consequences that would follow would soon deprive us even
of the title and the music.
I shall arrange the fisheries under the three following
heads :
First. As an Employment.
Secondly. As producing National Supply and Commerce,
and a means of National Wealth.
Thirdly. As a Nursery for Seamen.
As an employment, by which a living is procured, it more
immediately concerns those who make it their business ; and
in this view, which is the least of the three, such of the
States, or parts thereof, which do not follow fishing, are not
so directly interested as those which do. I call it the least
of the three, because as no man needs want employment in
America, so the change from one employment to another, if
that be all, is but little to him, and less to anybody else.
And this is the narrow impolitic light in which some persons
have understood the fisheries.
But when we view them as producing national supply and
commerce, and a means of national wealth, we then consider
the fish, not the fisherman, and regard the consequences of
the employment more than the employment itself ; in the

I779J PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 1 5
same manner that I distinguish the coat that clothes me,
from the man that made it. In this view, we neither enquire
(unless for curiosity) who catch the fish, or whether they
catched themselves — how they were catched, or where ? The
same supply would be produced, the same commerce occa
sioned, and the same wealth created, were they, by a natural
impulse, to throw themselves annually on the shore, or be
driven there by a periodical current or storm. And taking
it in this point, it is no more to us, than it was to the
Israelites whether the manna that fed them was brought
there by an angel or an insect, an eastern or a western
breeze, or whether it was congealed dew, or a concretion of
vegetable juices. It is sufficient that they had manna, and
we have fish.
I imagine myself within compass, when I suppose the
fisheries to constitute a fourth part of the staple commerce
of the United States, and that with this extraordinary ad
vantage, it is a commerce which interferes with none, and
promotes others. Take away a fourth from any part, and
the whole United States suffers, in the same manner that
the blood taken from the arm is drained from the whole
man ; and if, by the unskilfulness of the operation, the
wounded arm should lose its use, the whole body would
want its service. It is to no purpose for a man to say, I am
not a fisherman, an indigo planter, a rice planter, a tobacco
planter, or a corn planter, any more than for the leg to say,
I am not an arm ; for as, in the latter instance, the same
blood invigorates both and all by circulation, so, in the former,
each is enriched by the wealth which the other creates, and
fed by the supply the other raises. Were it proposed that
no town should have a market, are none concerned therein
but butchers ? And in like manner it may be asked, that if
we lose the market for fish, are none affected thereby but
those who catch them ? He who digs the mine, or tills the
earth, or fishes in the ocean, digs, tills and fishes for the
world. The employment and the pittance it procures him
are his ; but the produce itself creates a traffic for thousands,
a supply for millions.

l6 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [l779
The Eastern States by quitting agriculture for fishing
become customers to the rest, partly by exchange and partly
by the wealth they import. Of the Middle States, they
purchase grain and flour; of Maryland and Virginia, to
bacco, the food and pastime of the fisherman ; of North and
South-Carolina, and Georgia, rice and indigo. They may
not happen to become the client of a lawyer in either of
these states, but is it any reason that we are to be deprived
of fish, one of the instruments of commerce, because it comes
to him without a case ?
The loss of the fisheries being at this time blended with
other losses, which all nations at war are more or less subject
to, is not particularly felt or distinguished in the general
suspension : And the men who were employed therein being
now called off into other departments, and supported by
other means, feel not the want of the employment. War,
in this view, contains a temporary relief for its own misfor
tunes, by creating a trade in lieu of the suspended one.
But when, with the restoration of peace, trade shall open,
the case will be very and widely different, and the fisher
man like the farmer will expect to return to his occupation
in quietude.
As my limits will not allow me to range, neither have I
time if I had room, I shall close this second head, and pro
ceed to the third, and finish with some remarks on the state
the question is now said to stand in in Congress.
If as an employment one fourth of the United States are
immediately affected, and if as a source of national supply
and commerce and a means of national wealth all are deeply
interested, what shall we say when we consider it as a
nursery for seamen. Here the question seems to take almost
a reversed turn, for the states which do not fish are herein
more concerned than those which do. It happens, by some
disposition of providence or ourselves, that those particular
states whose employment is to fish are thickly settled, and
secured by their internal strength from any extensive rav
ages of an enemy. The States, all the way from thence to
the southward, beginning at New-York, are less populous,

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES, lj
and have less of that ability in proportion to their extent.
Their security, therefore, will hereafter be in a navy, and
without a fishery there can be no navy worthy of the name.
Has nature given us timber and iron, pitch and tar, and
cordage if we please, for nothing but to sell or burn ? Has
experience taught us the art of ship-building equal to any
people on earth to become the workmen of other nations ?
Has she surrounded our coast with fisheries to create
strength to our enemies, and make us the purchasers of our
own property ? Has she brought those fisheries almost to
our own doors, to insult us with the prospect, and at the
same time that she bar us from the enjoyment to threaten
us with the constant approach of an enemy? Or has she
given these things for our use, and instructed us to combine
them for our own protection ? Who, I ask, will undertake
to answer me, Americanus or myself ?
What would we now give for thirteen ships of the line to
guard and protect the remote or weaker parts ? How would
Carolina feel deliverance from danger, and Georgia from
despair, and assisted by such a fleet become the prison of
their invaders ? How would the whigs of New York look
up and smile with inward satisfaction at the display of an
Admiral's command, opening, like a " key," the door of their
confinement ? How would France solace herself at such a
union of force, and reciprocally assisting and assisted trav
erse the ocean in safety? Yet all these, or their similar
consequences, are staked upon the fisheries.
Americanus may understand the " nature of fisheries," as
to season, catching and curing, or their " extent " as to
latitude and longitude ; but as a great political question, in
volving with it the means and channels of commerce, and
the probability of empire, he is wholly unequal to the subject,
or he would not have, as he has done, limitted their effects to
"two or three states especially!' By a judgment acquired
from long acquaintance, he may be able to know a cod when
he sees it, or describe the inconveniences or pleasures of a
fishing voyage. Or, " born and educated" * among them, he
* King of England 's first speech to the British parliament. — Author.

l8 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [T779
may entertain us with the growling memories of a New
foundland bear, or amuse us with the history of a foggy
climate or a smoaky hut, with all the winter chit-chat of
fatigue and hardship ; and this, in his idea, may be to
" understand the fisheries."
I will venture to predict that America, even with the
assistance of all the fisheries, will never be a great, much
less a dangerous naval power, and without them she will be
scarcely any. I am established in this opinion from the
known cast and order of things. No country of a large
extent ever yet, I believe, was powerful at sea, or ever will
be. The natural reason of this appears to be that men do
not, in any great numbers, turn their thoughts to the ocean,
till either the country gets filled, or some peculiar advantage
or necessity tempts them out. A maritime life is a kind
of partial emigration, produced from a portion of the same
causes with emigrations in general. The ocean becomes
covered and the supply kept up from the constant swarm-
ings of the landed hive ; and as we shall never be able to fill
the whole dominion of the Thirteen States, and there will
ever be new land to cultivate, the necessity can never take
place in America, and of course the consequences can never
happen. Paradoxical as it may appear, greatness at sea is the effect
of littleness by land. Want of room and want of employ
are the generating causes. Holland has the most powerful
navy in the world, compared with the small extent of her
crowded country. France and Spain have too much room,
and the soil too luxuriant and tempting, to be quitted for
the ocean. Were not this the case, and did the abilities
for a navy like those for land service rise in proportion to
the number of inhabitants only, France would rival more
than any two powers in Europe, which is not the case.
Had not nature thrown the fisheries in our way and in
flicted a degree of natural sterility on such parts of the con
tinent as lie contiguous thereto, by way both of forcing and
tempting their inhabitants to the ocean, America, consider
ing the present cast of the world, would have wanted the

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 19

means of defence, for the far greater part of our seamen
except those produced by the fisheries, are natives of other
countries. And shall we unwisely trifle with what we ought
to hug as a treasure, and nourish with the utmost care as a
Protector ? And must the W. H. D. forever mean that We
Have Dunces?1
We seek not a fleet to insult the world, or range in foreign
regions for conquests. We have more land than we can
cultivate ; more extent than we can fill. Our natural situa
tion frees us from the distress of crowded countries, and
from the thirst of ambitious ones. We covet not dominion,
for we already possess a world ; we want not to export our
labouring poor, for where can they live better, or where can
they be more useful ? But we want just such a fleet as the
fisheries will enable us to keep up, and without which we
shall be for ever exposed, a burthen to our allies, and
incapable of the necessary defence. The strength of
America, on account of her vast extent, cannot be collected
by land ; but since experience has taught us to sail, and
nature has put the means in our power, we ought in time to
make provision for a navy, as the cheapest, safest, best, and
most effectual security we can hereafter depend on.
Having in my first and second publications endeavoured
to establish the right of America to the fisheries, and in this
treated of their vast importance, I shall conclude with some
remarks on the subject, as it is now said to stand in Congress,
or rather the form in which it is thrown out to the public.
Americanus says (and I ask not how he came by his
knowledge) that the question is, " Whether the insisting on
an explicit acknowledgment of that right (meaning the right
of fishing on the Banks of Newfoundland) is either safe,
: ¦ prudent or politic."
Before I enter on the discussion of this point, it may not
be improper to remark, that some intimations were made to
j j Congress in February by the Minister of France, Mr. Gerard,
t t respecting what the claims of America might be, in case any
t I treaty of peace should be entered on with the enemy. And
1 Probably W. H. D. were initials of some disputant on the subject. — Editor.

20 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. Cx779
from this, with some account of the general disposition of
the powers of Europe, the mighty buz of peace took its rise,
and several who ought to have known better, were whisper
ing wonderful secrets at almost every tea table.
It was a matter very early supposed by those who had any
clear judgment, that Spain would not immediately join in
the war, but would lie by as a mediatorial power. If she
succeeded therein, the consequence would be a peace ; if she
failed, she would then be perfectly at liberty to fulfil her
engagements with France, etc.
Now in order to enable Spain to act this part, it was
necessary that the claims of Congress in behalf of America
should be made known to their own Plenipotentiary at Paris,
Dr. Franklin, with such instructions, public or private, as
might be proper to give thereon. But I observe several
members, either so little acquainted with political arrange
ments, or supposing their constituents to be so, that they
treat with Mr. Gerard as if that gentleman was our Minister,
instead of the Minister of his Most Christian Majesty, and
his name is brought in to a variety of business to which it
has no proper reference. This remark may to some appear
rather severe, but it is a necessary one. It is not every
member of Congress who acts as if he felt the true import
ance of his character, or the dignity of the country he acts
for. And we seem in some instances to forget, that as
France is the great ally of America, so America is the great
ally of France.
It may now be necessary to mention, that no instructions
are yet gone to Dr. Franklin as a line for negotiation, and
the reason is because none are agreed on. The reason why
they are not agreed on is another point. But had the
gentlemen who are for leaving the fisheries out agreed to
have had them put in, instructions might have been sent
more than four months ago ; and if not exactly convenient,
might by this time have been returned and reconsidered.
On whose side then does the fault lie ?
I profess myself an advocate, out of doors, for clearly,
absolutely, and unequivocally ascertaining the right of the

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 21
States to fish on the Banks of Newfoundland, as one of the
first and most necessary articles. The right and title of
the States thereto I have endeavoured to show. The im
portance of these fisheries I have endeavoured to prove.
What reason then can be given why they should be omitted ?
The seeds of almost every former war have been sown in
the injudicious or defective terms of the preceding peace.
Either the conqueror has insisted on too much, and thereby
held the conquered, like an over-bent bow, in a continual
struggle to snap the cord, or the latter has artfully intro
duced an equivocal article, to take such advantages under as
the turn of future affairs might afford. We have only to
consult our own feelings, and each man may from thence
learn the spring of all national policy. And he, who does
not this, may be fortunate enough to effect a temporary
measure, but never will, unless by accident, accomplish a
lasting one.
Perhaps the fittest condition any countries can be in to
make a peace, calculated for duration, is when neither is
conquered, and both are tired. The first of these suits Eng
land and America. I put England first in this case, because
she began the war : And as she must be and is convinced
of the impossibility of conquering America, and as America
has no romantic ideas of extending her conquests to England,
the object on the part of England is lost, and on the part of
America is so far secure, that, unless she unwisely conquers
herself, she is certain of not being conquered ; and this being
the case, there is no visible object to prevent the opening a
negociation. But how far England is disposed thereto is a
matter wholly unknown, and much to be doubted. A move
ment towards a negociation, and a disposition to enter into
it, are very distinct things. The first is often made, as an
army affects to retreat, in order to throw an enemy off his
guard. To prevent which, the most vigorous preparations
ought to be made for war at the very instant of negociating
for a peace.
Let America make these preparations, and she may send
her terms and claims whenever she pleases, without any ap-

22 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i779
prehension of appearing or acting out of character. Those
preparations relate now more to revenue than to force, and
that being wholly and immediately within the compass of
our own abilities, requires nothing but our consent to
accomplish.* To leave the fisheries wholly out, on any pretence whatever,
is to sow the seeds of another war ; and I will be content to
have the name of an ideot engraven for an epitaph, if it does
not produce that effect. The difficulties which are now given
will become a soil for those seeds to grow in, and future cir
cumstances will quicken their vegetation. Nations are very
fond of appealing to treaties when it suits their purpose, and
tho' America might afterwards assign her unquestioned right
as a reason for her silence, yet all must know that treaties
are never to be explained by presumption, but wholly by
what is put in, and never by what is left out.
There has not yet been an argument given for omitting the
fisheries, but what might have been given as a stronger rea
son to the contrary. All which has been advanced rests only
on supposition, and that failing, leaves them no foundation.
They suppose Britain will not hereafter interrupt the right ;
but the case is, they have no right to that supposition ; and
it may likewise be parried by saying, — suppose she should ?
Now the matter, as I conceive it, stands thus 
If the right of the States to fish on the Banks of New
foundland be made and consented to as an article in a treaty
with Britain, it of consequence becomes expresly guarantied
by the eleventh article of the present treaty of alliance with
* A plan has been proposed, and all who are judges have approved it, for stop
ping the emissions [of paper money] and raising a revenue, by subscription for
three years without inter est, and in lieu thereof to take every subscriber' s taxes out
of his subscription, and the balance at the expiration of that time to be returned.
If the States universally go into this measure, they will acquire a degree of strength
and ability fitted either for peace or war. It is, I am clearly convinced, the best
measure they can adopt, the best interest they can have, and the best security they
can hold. In short, it is carrying on or providing against war without expence,
because the remaining money in the country, after the subscriptions are made, will
be equal in value to the whole they now hold. Boston has proposed the same
measure. — A uthor.

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 23
France ; but if it be left out in a treaty with the former, it
is not then guarantied in the present treaty with the latter,
because the guaranteeing is limited to " the whole of their
(our) possessions, as the same shall be fixed and assured to
the said States at the moment of the cessation of their present
war with England." Art II.
Were the States to claim, as a memorial to be recorded
with themselves, an exclusive right to those fisheries, as a
matter of right only, derived from natural situation, and to
propose to their allies to guarantee to them expresly so
much of that right as we may have occasion to use, and the
States to guarantee to such allies such portion of the fisheries
as they possessed by the last treaty of peace, there might be
some pretence for not touching on the subject in a treaty
with Britain ; because, after the conclusion of the war, she
would hardly venture to interrupt the States in a right,
which, tho' not described in a treaty with her, should be
powerfully guarrantied in a treaty with others. But to omit
it wholly in one treaty, and to leave it unguarrantied in
another, and to trust it entirely, as the phrase is, to the
chapter of accidents, is too loose, too impolitic a mode of
conducting national business.
" Had nothing," says Americanus, "been said on the subject of
the fisheries, our fishermen, on the peace, might have returned to
their old stations without interruption."
Is this talking like an American politician, or a seducing
emissary ? Who authorised Americanus to intimate such an
assurance ; or how came he to know what the British minis
try would or would not hereafter do ; or how can he be cer
tain they have told him truth ? If it be supposition only,
he has, as I before remarked, no right to make it ; and if it
be more than supposition, it must be the effect of secret cor
respondence. In the first of these cases he is foolish ; in the
second worse. Does he not see that the fisheries are not
expresly and only conditionally guarrantied, and that if in
such a situation they be omitted in a treaty with Britain,
and she should afterwards interrupt our right, that the

24 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [l779
States stand single in the question, and have no right on the
face of the present treaties to call on their Allies for assist
ance ? And yet this man is persuading us to say nothing
about them.
Americanus like some others is mightily fond of amusing
his readers with " the law of nations," just as if there really
was such a law, fixed and known like the law of the ten
commandments. Whereas the law of nations is in theory
the law of treaties compounded with customary usage, and
in practice just what they can get and keep till it be taken
from them. It is a term without any regular defined mean
ing, and as in some instances we have invented the thing
first and given the name afterwards, so in this we have in
vented the name and the thing is yet to be made.
— Some gentlemen say leave the fisheries to be settled after
wards in a treaty of commerce. This is really beginning
business at the wrong end. For a treaty of peace cannot
precede the settlement of disputes, but proceeds in conse
quence of all controverted points respecting right and
dominion being adjusted and agreed on. There is one kind
of treaty of commerce which may follow a treaty of peace,
but that respects such articles only and the mode of trafick-
ing with them as are produced within, or imported into the
known and described dominions of the parties ; or to the
rules of exchange, or paying or recovering debts, but never
to the dominion itself ; and comes more properly within the
province of a Consul than the superior contracting powers.
With these remarks I shall, for the present, close the sub
ject. It is a new one, and I have endeavoured to give it as
systematical an investigation as the short time allowed and
the other business I have on hand will admit of. How the
affair stands in Congress, or how the cast of the House is on
the question, I have, for several reasons, not enquired into ;
neither have I conversed with any gentleman of that Body
on the subject. They have their opinion and I mine ; and
as I chuse to think my own reasons and write my own
thoughts, I feel the more free the less I consult.
Who the writer of Americanus is I am not informed. I

1779] PEACE, AND THE NEWFOUNDLAND FISHERIES. 25
never said or ever believed it to be Mr. Gouverneur Morris,
or replied to it upon that supposition. The manner is not
his, neither do I know that the principles are, and as that
gentleman has disavowed it, the assurance is sufficient. I
have likewise heard it supposed that Mr. Deane is the
author, and that his friend Mr. Langworthy carried it to the
press. But I know not who the author is. I have replied
to the Piece rather than to the Man ; tho' for the sake of relief
to the reader and amusement to myself, he now and then
comes in for a stroke.1
Common Sense.
Philadelphia, July 17, 1779.
1 Paine's contention in these letters was taken up by Dr. Franklin, while the
Treaty of Peace was under discussion at Paris (autumn of 1782). After much
disputation the third article was framed by which the Newfoundland Fisheries
were held open, but the right to land and dry fish was limited to the parts of
Nova Scotia then unsettled, and, on their settlement, to be subject to agreement
with the inhabitants. — Editor.

II.
THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.
An Act for incorporating the American Philosophical
Society, held at Philadelphia for promoting useful knowl
edge.1 Whereas the cultivation of useful knowledge, and the ad
vancement of the liberal Arts and Sciences in any country,
have the most direct tendency towards the improvement of
agriculture, the enlargement of trade, the ease and comfort
of life, the ornament of society, and the ease and happiness
of mankind. And whereas this country of North America,
which the goodness of Providence hath given us to inherit,
from the vastness of its extent, the variety of its climate, the
fertility of its soil, the yet unexplored treasures of its bowels,
the multitude of its rivers, lakes, bays, inlets, and other con
veniences of navigation, offers to these United States one of
the richest subjects of cultivation, ever presented to any
people upon earth. And whereas the experience of ages
shows that improvements of a public nature are best carried
on by societies of liberal and ingenious men, uniting their
labours without regard to nation, sect, or party, in one grand
pursuit, alike interesting to all, whereby mutual prejudices
are worn off, a humane and philosophical Spirit is cherished,
and youth are stimulated to a laudable diligence and emula
tion in the pursuit of Wisdom : And whereas, upon these
Principles, divers public-spirited gentlemen of Pennsylvania
1 The second reading of this Bill, Monday, February 14, 1780, is entered by
Thomas Paine, as Clerk of the General Assembly, and was subsequently pub
lished as his by his London friends as a " Broadside." A copy is in the British
Museum. — Editor. 26

1780] THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 2J
and other American States did heretofore Unite Themselves,
under certain regulations into one voluntary Society, by the
name of " The American Philosophical Society, held at Phil
adelphia for promoting useful knowledge," and by their suc
cessful labours and investigations, to the great credit of
America, have extended their reputation so far, that men of
the first eminence in the republic of letters in the most civ
ilized nations of Europe have done honour to their publica
tions, and desired to be enrolled among their Members :
And whereas the said Society, after having been long inter
rupted in their laudable pursuits by the calamities of war,
and the distresses of our country, have found means to
revive their design, in hopes of being able to prosecute the
same with their former success, and of being further encour
aged therein by the public, for which purpose they have
prayed us, " the Representatives of the Freemen of the Com
monwealth of Pennsylvania, that they may be created One
Body Politic and Corporate for ever, with such powers,
and privileges, and immunities as may be necessary for
answering the valuable purposes which the said Society had
originally in view."
Wherefore, in order to encourage the said Society in the
prosecution and advancement of all useful branches of
knowledge, for the benefit of their Country and Mankind,
Be it enacted, and it is hereby enacted by the Representa
tives of the Freemen of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania,
in General Assembly met, and by the authority of the same,
That the members of the said Philosophical Society, hereto
fore voluntarily associated for promoting useful knowledge,
and such other persons as have been duly elected Members
and Officers of the same, agreeably to the fundamental laws
and regulations of the said Society, comprised in twelve
sections, prefixed to their first Volume of Transactions,
published in Philadelphia, and such other laws and regu
lations as shall hereafter be duly made and enacted by the
Society, according to the tenor hereof, be and for ever
hereafter shall be, One Body Corporate and Politic in
Deed, by the name and style of "The American Philo-

28 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780

sophical Society held at Philadelphia, for promoting useful
knowledge." And whereas — Nations truly civilized (however unhappily
at variance on other accounts) will never wage war with the
Arts and Sciences, and the Common Interests of Humanity ;
Be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, That it
shall and may be lawful for the said Society, by their proper
officers, at all times, whether in peace or war, to correspond
with learned societies, as well as individual learned men, of
any nation or country ; upon matters merely belonging to
the business of the said Societies, such as the mutual com
munication of their discoveries and proceedings in philoso
phy and science ; the procuring Books, Apparatus, Natural
Curiosities, and such other articles and intelligence as are
usually exchanged between learned bodies, for furthering
their common pursuits : Provided always, That such corre
spondence of the said Society be at all times open to the
inspection of the supreme Executive Council of this Com
monwealth, etc.

III.
EMANCIPATION OF SLAVES.
PREAMBLE TO THE ACT PASSED BY THE PENNSYLVANIA
ASSEMBLY MARCH I, 1780.
I. When we contemplate our abhorrence of that condition,
to which the arms and tyranny of Great Britain were exerted
to reduce us, when we look back on the variety of dangers
to which we have been exposed, and how miraculously our
wants in many instances have been supplied, and our deliv
erances wrought, when even hope and human. fortitude have
become unequal to the conflict, we are unavoidably led to a
serious and grateful sense of the manifold blessings, which we
have undeservedly received from the hand of that Being,
from whom every good and perfect gift cometh. Impressed
with these ideas, we conceive that it is our duty, and we re
joice that it is in our power, to extend a portion of that free
dom to others, which hath been extended to us, and release
them from the state of thralldom, to which we ourselves
were tyrannically doomed, and from which we have now
every prospect of being delivered. It is not for us to enquire
why, in the creation of mankind, the inhabitants of the sev
eral parts of the earth were distinguished by a difference in
feature or complexion. It is sufficient to know that all are
the work of the Almighty Hand. We find in the distribu
tion of the human species, that the most fertile as well as
the most barren parts of the earth are inhabited by men of
complexions different from ours, and from each other ; from
whence we may reasonably as well as religiously infer, that
He, who placed them in their various situations, hath ex-
29

30

THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780

tended equally his care and protection to all, and that it
becometh not us to counteract his mercies. We esteem it
a peculiar blessing granted to us, that we are enabled this
day to add one more step to universal civilization, by re
moving, as much as possible, the sorrows of those who have
lived in undeserved bondage, and from which, by the
assumed authority of the Kings of Great Britain, no effectual
legal relief could be obtained. Weaned, by a long course
of experience, from those narrow prejudices and partialities
we had imbibed, we find our hearts enlarged with kindness
and benevolence towards men of all conditions and nations ;
and we conceive ourselves at this particular period particu
larly called upon by the blessings which we have received,
to manifest the sincerity of our profession, and to give a
substantial proof of our gratitude.
II. And whereas the condition of those persons, who have
heretofore been denominated Negro and Mulatto slaves, has
been attended with circumstances, which not only deprived
them of the common blessings that they were by nature en
titled to, but has cast them into the deepest afflictions, by
an unnatural separation and sale of husband and wife from
each other and from their children, an injury, the greatness
of which can only be conceived by supposing that we were
in the same unhappy case. In justice, therefore, to persons
so unhappily circumstanced, and who, having no prospect
before them whereon they may rest their sorrows and their
hopes, have no reasonable inducement to render their service
to society, which they otherwise might, and also in grateful
commemoration of our own happy deliverance from that
state of unconditional submission to which we were doomed
by the tyranny of Britain,
III. Be it enacted, etc.'
1 The provisions of this first Act of Emancipation in America were written by
George Bryan. It was introduced on the day when Paine became Clerk of the
Assembly (Nov. 2, 1779.) Although the authorship of this Preamble has been
claimed for others, the steady tradition which has ascribed it to Paine can hardly
be doubted by those who compare it with the plea for emancipation with which
his career in America opened. See vol. i. of this work ; and my ' ' Life of
Paine," i., p. 154. — Editor.

IV.
PUBLIC GOOD.1
PREFACE.
THE following pages are on a subject hitherto little under
stood but highly interesting to the United States.
They contain an investigation of the claims of Virginia to
the vacant Western territory, and of the right of the United
States to the same ; with some outlines of a plan for laying
out a new state, to be applied as a fund, for carrying on the
war, or redeeming the national debt.
The reader, in the course of this publication, will find it
studiously plain, and, as far as I can judge, perfectly candid.
What materials I could get at I have endeavoured to place
in a clear line, and deduce such arguments therefrom as the
subject required. In the prosecution of it, I have considered
myself as an advocate for the right of the states, and taken
no other liberty with the subject than what a counsel would,
and ought to do, in behalf of a client.
I freely confess that the respect I had conceived, and still
preserve, for the character of Virginia, was a constant check
upon those sallies of imagination, which are fairly and ad
vantageously indulged against an enemy, but ungenerous
when against a friend.
If there is any thing I have omitted or mistaken, to the
1 This pamphlet was published with the following title : " Public Good :
Being an Examination into the Claim of Virginia to the Vacant Western Ter
ritory, and of the Right of the United States to the Same : to Which is Added
Proposals for Laying off a New State, to be Applied as a Fund for Carrying on
the War, or Redeeming the National Debt." [Published by Dunlap, Phila
delphia, December 30, 1780.] 31

32

THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE.

[1780

injury of the intentions of Virginia or her claims, I shall
gladly rectify it, or if there is any thing yet to add, should
the subject require it, I shall as cheerfully undertake it ; being
fully convinced, that to have matters fairly discussed, and
properly understood, is a principal means of preserving
harmony and perpetuating friendship.
The Author.

PUBLIC GOOD.
When we take into view the mutual happiness and united
interests of the states of America, and consider the vast con
sequences to arise from a strict attention of each, and of all,
to every thing which is just, reasonable, and honorable ; or
the evils that will follow from an inattention to those princi
ples ; there cannot, and ought not, to remain a doubt but the
governing rule of right and of mutual good must in all public
cases finally preside.
The hand of providence has cast us into one common lot,
and accomplished the independence of America, by the
unanimous consent of the several parts, concurring at once
in time, manner and circumstances. No superiority of in
terest, at the expense of the rest, induced the one, more than
the other, into the measure. Virginia and Maryland, it is
true, might foresee that their staple commodity, tobacco, by
being no longer monopolized by Britain, would bring them
a better price abroad : for as the tax on it in England was
treble its first purchase from the planter, and they being now
no longer compelled to send it under that obligation, and in
the restricted manner they formerly were, it is easy to see
that the article, from the alteration of the circumstances of
trade, will, and daily does, turn out to them with additional
advantages. But this being a natural consequence, produced by that
common freedom and independence of which all are par
takers, is therefore an advantage they are entitled to, and on
which the rest of the states can congratulate them without
feeling a wish to lessen, but rather to extend it. To con
tribute to the increased prosperity of another, by the same
means which occasion our own, is an agreeable reflection ;
vol. 2-3 33

34 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
and the more valuable any article of export becomes, the
more riches will be introduced into and spread over the
continent. Yet this is an advantage which those two states derive from
the independence of America, superior to the local circum
stances of the rest ; and of the two it more particularly
belongs to Virginia than Maryland, because the staple com
modity of a considerable part of Maryland is flour, which, as
it is an article that is the growth of Europe as well as of
America, cannot obtain a foreign market but by undersell
ing, or at least by limiting it to the current price abroad.
But tobacco commands its own price. It is not a plant of
almost universal growth, like wheat. There are but few soils
and climes that produce it to advantage, and before the cul
tivation of it in Virginia and Maryland, the price was from
four to sixteen shillings sterling a pound in England.*
But the condition of the vacant western territory of America
makes a very different case to that of the circumstances of
trade in any of the states. Those very lands, formed, in con
templation, the fund by which the debt of America would in
the course of years be redeemed. They were considered as
the common right of all ; and it is only till lately that any
pretension of claim has been made to the contrary.
That difficulties and differences will arise in communities,
ought always to be looked for. The opposition of interests,
real or supposed, the variety of judgments, the contrariety
of temper, and, in short, the whole composition of man, in
his individual capacity, is tinctured with a disposition to
contend ; but in his social capacity there is either a right,
which, being proved, terminates the dispute, or a reasonable
ness in the measure, where no direct right can be made out,
which decides or compromises the matter.
As I shall have frequent occasion to mention the word
right, I wish to be clearly understood in my definition of it.
There are various senses in which this term is used, and cus
tom has, in many of them, afforded it an introduction con-
* See Sir Dalby Thomas's Historical Account of the rise and growth of the
West India Colonies. — Author.

I7«°J PUBLIC GOOD. 35
trary to its true meaning. We are so naturally inclined to give
the utmost degree of force to our own case, that we call every
pretension, however founded, a right; and by this means
the term frequently stands opposed to justice and reason.
After Theodore was elected king of Corsica, not many
years ago, by the mere choice of the natives, for their own
convenience in opposing the Genoese, he went over to Eng
land, run himself in debt, got himself into jail, and on his
release therefrom, by the benefit of an act of insolvency, he
surrendered up what he called his kingdom of Corsica, as a
part of his personal property, for the use of his creditors ;
some of whom may hereafter call this a charter, or by any
other name more fashionable, and ground thereon what they
may term a right to the sovereignty and property of Corsica.
But does not justice abhor such an action both in him and
them, under the prostituted name of a right, and must not
laughter be excited wherever it is told ?
A right, to be truly so, must be right within itself : yet '
many things have obtained the name of rights, which are
originally founded in wrong. Of this kind are all rights by
mere conquest, power or violence. In the cool moments of
reflection we are obliged to allow, that the mode by which
such a right is obtained, is not the best suited to that spirit
of universal justice which ought to preside equally over all
mankind. There is something in the establishment of such
a right, that we wish to slip over as easily as possible, and j
say as little about as can be. But in the case of a right
founded in right, the mind is carried cheerfully into the sub
ject, feels no compunction, suffers no distress, subjects its
sensations to no violence, nor sees any thing in its way which
requires an artificial smoothing.
From this introduction I proceed to examine into the
claims of Virginia ; first, as to the right, secondly as to the
reasonableness, and lastly, as to the consequences.
The name, Virginia, originally bore a different meaning to
what it does now. It stood in the place of the word North-
America, and seems to have been a name comprehensive of
all the English settlements or colonies on the continent, and

$6 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. \M^a
not descriptive of any one as distinguished from the rest.
All to the southward of the Chesapeake, as low as the gulf
of Mexico, was called South- Virginia, and all to the north
ward, North- Virginia, in a similar line of distinction, as we
now call the whole continent North and South America.*
The first charter, or patent, was to Sir Walter Raleigh by
Queen Elizabeth, of England, in the year 1583, and had
neither name nor bounds. Upon Sir Walter's return, the
name Virginia was given to the whole country, including
the now United States. Consequently the present Virginia,
either as a province or state, can set up no exclusive claim
to the Western territory under this patent, and that for two
reasons : first, because the words of the patent run to Sir
Walter Raleigh, and such persons as he should nominate, them
selves and their successors ; which is a line of succession Vir
ginia does not pretend to stand in ; and secondly, because a
prior question would arise, namely, who are to be understood
by Virginians under this patent ? and the answer would be,
all the inhabitants of America, from New-England to Florida.
This patent, therefore, would destroy their exclusive claim,
and invest the right collectively in the thirteen states.
But it unfortunately happened, that the settlers under this
patent, partly from misconduct, the opposition of the In
dians, and other calamities, discontinued the process, and
the patent became extinct.
After this, James the first, who, in the year 1602, succeeded
Elizabeth, issued a new patent, which I come next to
describe. This patent differed from the former in this essential
point, that it had limits, whereas the other had none : the
former was intended to promote discoveries wherever they
could be made, which accounts why no limits were affixed,
and this to settle discoveries already made, which likewise
assigns a reason why limits should be described.
In this patent were incorporated two companies, called the
South-Virginia company, and the North- Virginia company,
and sometimes the London company, and the Plymouth
company. * Oldmixon's History of Virginia. — Author.

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 37
The South- Virginia or London company was composed
chiefly of London adventurers ; the North- Virginia or Ply
mouth company was made up of adventurers from Plymouth
in Devonshire and other persons of the western part of
England. Though they were not to fix together, yet they were
allowed to choose their places of settlement any where on
the coast of America, then called Virginia, between the lati
tudes of 34 and 45 degrees, which was a range of 760 miles :
the south company was not to go below 34 degrees, nor the
north company above 45 degrees. But the patent expressed,
that as soon as they had made their choice, each was to be
come limited to 50 miles each way on the coast, and 100 up
the country ; so that the grant to each company was a square
of 100 miles, and no more. The North-Virginia or Plymouth
company settled to the eastward, and in the year 1614,
changed the name, and called that part New-England. The
South- Virginia or London company settled near Cape Henry.
This then cannot be the patent of boundless extent, and
that for two reasons : first, because the limits are described,
namely, a square of 100 miles ; and secondly, because there
were two companies of equal rights included in the same
patent. Three years after this, that is, in the year 1609, the South-
Virginia company applied for new powers from the crown of
England, which were granted them in a new patent, and the
boundaries of the grant enlarged ; and this is the charter, or
patent, on which some of the present Virginians ground
their pretension to boundless territory.
The first reflection that presents itself on this enlargement
of the grant is, that it must be supposed to bear some in
tended degree of reasonable comparison to that which it
superseded. The former could not be greater than a square
of one hundred miles ; and this new one being granted in
lieu of that, and that within the space of three years, and by
the same person, James the first, who was never famed either
for profusion or generosity, cannot, on a review of the time
and circumstances of the grant, be supposed a very extrava
gant or very extraordinary one. If a square of one hundred

38 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
miles was not sufficiently large, twice that quantity was as
much as could well be expected or solicited ; but to suppose
that he, who had caution enough to confine the first grant
within moderate bounds, should, in so short a space as three
years, supersede it by another grant of many million times
greater extent, is, on the face of the affair, a circumstantial
nullity. Whether this patent, or charter, was in existence or not at
the time the revolution commenced, is a matter I shall here
after speak to, and confine myself in this place to the limits
which the said patent or charter lays down. The words are
as follow :
" Beginning at the cape or point of land called cape or point
Comfort, thence all along the seacoast to the northward 200
miles, and from the said point or cape Comfort, all along the sea-
coast to the southward, 200 miles ; and all that space or circuit
of land lying from the seacoast of the precinct aforesaid up into
the land throughout, from sea to sea, west and northwest."
The first remark I shall offer on the words of this grant is,
that they are uncertain, obscure, and unintelligible, and may
be construed into such a variety of contradictory meanings
as to leave at last no meaning at all.
Whether the two hundred miles each way from cape
Comfort, were to be on a straight line, or ascertained by
following the indented line of the coast, that is, " all along the
seacoast" in and out as the coast lay, cannot now be fully
determined ; because, as either will admit of supposition, and
nothing but supposition can be produced, therefore neither
can be taken as positive. Thus far may be said, that had it
been intended to be a straight line, the word straight ought
to have been inserted, which would have made the matter
clear ; but as no inference can be well drawn to the advan
tage of that which does not appear, against that which does,
therefore the omission implies negatively in favor of the
coast-indented line, or that the 400 miles were to be traced
on the windings of the coast, that is " all along the seacoast"

178°] PUBLIC GOOD. 39
But what is meant by the words " west and northwest " is
still more unintelligible. Whether they mean a west line
and a northwest line, or whether they apply to the general
lying of the land from the Atlantic, without regard to lines,
cannot again be determined. But if they are supposed to
mean lines to be run, then a new difficulty of more magni
tude than all the rest arises ; namely, from which end of the
extent on the coast is the west line and the northwest line
to be set off? As the difference in the contents of the grant,
occasioned by transposing them, is many hundred millions
of acres ; and either includes or excludes a far greater quan
tity of land than the whole thirteen United States contain.
In short, there is not a boundary in this grant that is clear,
fixed and defined. The coast line is uncertain, and that
being the base on which the others are to be formed, renders
the whole uncertain. But even if this line was admitted, in
either shape, the other boundaries would still be on suppo
sition, till it might be said there is no boundary at all, and
consequently no charter; for words which describe nothing
can give nothing.
The advocates for the Virginia claim, laying hold of these
ambiguities, have explained the grant thus :
Four hundred miles on the sea-coast, and from the south
point a west line to the great South sea, and from the north
point a northwest line to the said South sea. The figure
which these lines produce will be thus :

so
u

200 S. I 200 N.

New- New-
York. England.

40 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
But why, I ask, must the west land line be set off from the
south point, any more than the north point ? The grant or
patent does not say from which it shall be, neither is it clear
that a line is the thing intended by the words : but admit
ting that it is, on what grounds do the claimants proceed in
making this choice ? The answer, I presume, is easily given,
namely, because it is the most beneficial explanation to
themselves they can possibly make ; as it takes in many
thousand times more extent of country than any other ex
planation would. But this, though it be a very good reason
to them, is a very bad reason to us ; and though it may do
for the claimants to hope upon, will not answer to plead
upon ; especially to the very people, who, to confirm the
partiality of the claimants' choice, must relinquish their own
right and interest.
Why not set off the west land line from the north end
of the coast line, and the northwest line from the south end
of the same ? There is some reason why this should be the
construction, and none why the other should.
ist, Because if the line of two hundred miles each way
from cape Comfort, be traced by following the indented line
of the coast, which seems to be the implied intention of the
words, and a west line set off from the north end, and a
northwest line from the south end, these lines will all unite
(which the other construction never can) and form a com
plete triangle, the contents of which will be about twenty-
nine or thirty millions of acres, or something larger than
Pennsylvania ; and
2d, Because this construction is following the order of the
lines as expressed in the grant ; for the first mentioned coast
line, which is to the northward of cape Comfort, and the
first mentioned land line, which is the west line, have a nu
merical relation, being the first mentioned of each; and
implies, that the west line was to be set off from the north
point and not from the south point ; and consequently the
two last mentioned of each have the same numerical relation,
and again implies that the northwest line was to be set off
from the south point, and not from the north point. But

1780]

PUBLIC GOOD.

41

why the claimants should break through the order of the
lines, and contrary to implication, join the first mentioned
of the one, to the last mentioned of the other, and thereby
produce a shapeless monster, for which there is no name nor
any parallel in the world, either as to extent of soil and
sovereignty, is a construction that cannot be supported.
The figure produced by following the order of the lines is
as follows * :

200 s.

200 N.

I presume that if 400 miles be traced by following the
inflexes of any seashore, that the two extremes will not be
more than 300 miles distant from each other, on a straight
line. Therefore, to find the contents of a triangle, whose
base is 300 miles, multiply the length of the base into half
the perpendicular, which, in this case, is the west line, and
the product will be the answer :
300 miles, length of the base.
150 half the perpendicular (supposing it a right-angled triangle).

15000
300

45,000 contents of the grant in square miles.
640 acres in a square mile.

1800000
270000

28,800,000 contents in square acres.
* N. B. If the reader will cast his eye again over the words of the patent on
p. 38, he will perceive the numerical relation alluded to, by observing, that
the first mentioned coast line and the first mentioned land line are distinguished
by capitals. And the last mentioned of each by italics, which I have chosen
to do to illustrate the explanation. — Author.

42 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
Now will any one undertake to say, that this explanation
is not as fairly drawn (if not more so) from the words them
selves, as any other that can be offered ? Because it is
not only justified by the exact words of the patent, grant, or
charter, or any other name by which it may be called, but
by their implied meaning ; and is likewise of such contents
as may be supposed to have been intended ; whereas the
claimants' explanation is without bounds, and beyond every
thing that is reasonable. Yet, after all, who can say what
was the precise meaning of terms and expressions so loosely
formed, and capable of such a variety of contradictory inter
pretations ?
Had the order of the lines been otherwise than they are
in the patent, the reasonableness of the thing must have
directed the manner in which they should be connected :
but as the claim is founded in unreasonableness, and that
unreasonableness endeavoured to be supported by a trans
position of the lines, there remains no pretence for the claim
to stand on.
Perhaps those who are interested in the claimants' ex
planation will say that as the South sea is spoken of, the
lines must be as they explain them, in order to reach it.
To this I reply ; first, that no man then knew how far it
was from the Atlantic to the South sea, as I shall presently
show, but believed it to be but a short distance : and,
Secondly, that the uncertain and ambiguous manner in
which the South sea is alluded to (for it is not mentioned by
name, but only "from sea to sea") serves to perplex the
patent, and not to explain it ; and as no right can be founded
on an ambiguity, but on some proof cleared of ambiguity,
therefore the allusive introduction of " from sea to sea " can
yield no service to the claim.
There is likewise an ambiguous mention made of two
lands in this patent, as well as of two seas ¦ viz. and all that
"space or circuit of land lying from the sea-coast of the
precinct aforesaid up into the land throughout from sea to
sea." On which I remark, that the two lands here mentioned

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 43
have the appearance of a major and a minor, or the greater
out of which the less is to be taken : and the term from
"sea to sea" may be said to apply descriptively to the land
throughout and not to the space or circuit of land patented to
the company ; " in a similar manner that a former patent
described a major of 706 miles in extent, out of which the
minor, or square of one hundred miles, was to be chosen.
But to suppose that because the South sea is darkly al
luded to, it must therefore (at whatever distance it might be,
which then nobody knew, or for whatever purpose it might
be introduced) be made a certain boundary, and that with
out regard to the reasonableness of the matter, or the order
in which the lines are arranged, which is the only implica
tion the patent gives for setting off the land lines, is a sup
position that contradicts every thing which is reasonable.
The figure produced by following the order of the lines
will be complete in itself, let the distance to the South sea
be more or less ; because, if the land throughout from sea to
sea had not been sufficiently extensive to admit the west
land line and the northwest land line to close, the South sea,
in that case, would have eventually become a boundary ; but
if the extent of the land throughout from sea to sea, was so
great that the lines closed without reaching the said South
sea, the figure was complete without it.
Wherefore, as the order of the lines, when raised on the
indented coast line, produces a regular figure of reasonable
dimensions, and of about the same contents, though not of
the same shape, which Virginia now holds within the Alle
gany mountains ; and by transposing them, another figure is
produced, for which there is no name, and cannot be com
pleted, as I shall presently explain, and of an extent greater
than one half of Europe, it is needless to offer any other
arguments to show that the order of the lines must be the
rule, if any rule can be drawn from the words, for ascertain
ing from which point the west line and northwest line were
to be set off. Neither is it possible to suppose any other
rule could be followed ; because a northwest line set off two
hundred miles above cape Comfort, would not only never

44 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. tI780
touch the South sea, but would form a spiral line of infinite
windings round the globe, and after passing over the northern
parts of America and the frozen ocean, and then into the
northern parts of Asia, would, when eternity should end, and
not before, terminate in the north pole.
This is the only manner in which I can express the effect
of a northwest line, set off as above ; because as its direction
must always be between the north and the west, it conse
quently can never get into the pole nor yet come to a rest,
and on the principle that matter or space is capable of being
eternally divided, must proceed on for ever.
But it was a prevailing opinion, at the time this patent
was obtained, that the South sea was at no great distance
from the Atlantic, and therefore it was needless, under that
supposition, to regard which way the lines should be run ;
neither need we wonder at this error in the English govern
ment respecting America then, when we see so many and
such glaring ones now, for which there is much less excuse.
Some circumstances favoured this mistake. Admiral Sir
Francis Drake, not long before this, had, from the top of a
mountain in the isthmus of Darien, which is the centre of
North and South America, seen both the South sea and the
Atlantic, the width of the part of the continent where he
then was, not being above 70 miles ; whereas its width oppo
site Chesapeake bay is as great, if not greater, than in any
other part, being from sea to sea about the distance it is from
America to England. But this could not then be known,
because only two voyages had been made across the South
sea; the one by the ship in which Magellan sailed, who died
on his passage, and which was the first ship which sailed
around the world, and the other by Sir Francis Drake ; but
as neither of these sailed into a northern latitude in that
ocean, high enough to fix the longitude of the western coast
of America from the eastern, the distance across was entirely
on supposition, and the errors they then ran into appear
laughable to us who now know what the distance is.
That the company expected to come at the South sea
without much trouble or travelling, and that the great body

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 45
of land which intervened, so far from being their view in ob
taining the charter, became their disappointment, may be
collected from a circumstance mentioned in Stith's History
of Virginia. He relates, that in the year 1608, which was at
the time the company were soliciting this patent, they fitted
up in England "a barge for captain Newport," (who was
afterwards one of the joint deputy governors under the very
charter we are now treating of,) " which, for convenience of
carriage, might be taken into five pieces, and with which he
and his company were instructed to go up James' river as
far as the falls thereof, to discover the country of the Mona-
kins, and from thence they were to proceed, carrying their
barge beyond the falls to convey them to the South sea ; being
ordered not to return without a lump of gold, or a certainty
of the said sea." And Hutchinson, in his history of New-
England, which was called North Virginia at the time this
patent was obtained, says " the geography of this part of
America was less understood than at present. A line to the
Spanish settlements was imagined to be much shorter than
it really was. Some of Champlain's people in the beginning
of the last century, who had been but a few days' march from
Quebec, returned with great joy, supposing that from the top
of a high mountain, they had discovered the South sea."
From these matters, which are evidences on record, it ap
pears that the adventurers had no knowledge of the distance
it was to the South sea, but supposed it to be no great way
from the Atlantic; and also that great extent of territory
was not their object, but a short communication with the
southern ocean, by which they might get into the neighbor
hood of the Gold coast, and likewise carry on a commerce
with the East Indies.
Having thus shown the confused and various interpreta
tions this charter is subject to, and that it may be made to
mean any thing and nothing ; I proceed to show, that, let
the limits of it be more or less, the present state of Virginia
does not, and cannot, as a matter of right, inherit under it.
I shall open this part of the subject by putting the follow
ing case :

46 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780

Either Virginia stands in succession to the London com
pany, to whom the charter was granted, or to the crown of
England. If to the London company, then it becomes her,
as an outset in the matter, to show who they were, and like
wise that they were in possession to the commencement of
the revolution. — If to the crown, then the charter is of con
sequence superseded ; because the crown did not possess
territories by charter, but by prerogative without charter.
The notion of the crown chartering to itself is a nullity ; and
in this case, the unpossessed lands, be they little or much,
are in the same condition as if they had never been char
tered at all ; and the sovereignty of them devolves to the
sovereignty of the United States.
The charter or patent of 1609, as well as that of 1606, was
to Sir Thomas Gates, Sir George Summers, the Rev. Richard
Hacluit, prebend of Westminster, and others ; and the gov
ernment was then proprietary. These proprietors, by virtue
of the charter of 1609, chose lord Delaware for their governor,
and Sir Thomas Gates, Sir George Summers, and captain
Newport, (the person who was to go with a boat to the South
sea,) joint deputy governors. Was this the form of govern
ment either as to soil or constitution at the time the present
revolution commenced ? If not, the charter was not in being ;
for it matters not to us how it came to be out of being, so
long as the present Virginians, or their ancestors, neither
are, nor were sufferers by the change then made.
But suppose it could not be proved to be in being, which
it cannot, because being, in a charter, is power, it would only
prove a right in behalf of the London company of adven
turers; but how that right is to be disposed of is another
question. We are not defending the right ot the London
company, deceased 150 years ago, but taking up the matter
at the place where we found it, and so far as the authority
of the crown of England was exercised when the revolution
commenced. The charter was a contract between the crown
of England and those adventurers for their own emolument,
and not between the crown and the- people of Virginia ; and
whatever was the occasion of the contract becoming void, or

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 47
surrendered up, or superseded, makes no part of the question
now. It is sufficient that when the United States succeeded
to sovereignty they found no such contract in existence, or
even in litigation. They found Virginia under the authority
of the crown of England both as to soil and government,
subject to quit-rents to the crown and not to the company,
and had been so for upwards of 1 50 years : and that an in
strument or deed of writing, of a private nature, as all pro
prietary contracts are, so far as land is concerned, and which
is now historically known, and in which Virginia was no
party, and to which no succession in any line can be proved,
and has ceased for 150 years, should now be raked from ob
livion and held up as a charter whereon to assume a right to
boundless territory, and that by a pervertion of the order of
it, is something very singular and extraordinary.
If there was any innovation on the part of the crown, the
contest rested between the crown and the proprietors, the
London company, and not between Virginia and the said
crown. It was not her charter ; it was the company's charter,
and the only parties in the case were the crown and the
company. But why, if Virginia contends for the immutability of char-
ters, has she selected this in preference to the two former
ones ? All her arguments, arising from this principle, must
go to the first charter and not to the last ; but by placing
them to the last, instead of the first, she admits a fact against
her principle ; because, in order to establish the last, she
proves the first to be vacated by the second in the space of
23 years, the second to be vacated by the third in the space
of 3 years ; and why the third should not be vacated by the
fourth form of government, issuing from the same power
with the former two, and which took place about 25 years
after, and continued in being for 150 years since, and under
which all her public and private business was transacted, her
purchases made, her warrants for survey and patents for land
obtained, is too mysterious to account for.
Either the re-assumption of the London company's charter
into the hands of the crown was an usurpation, or it was not.

48 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780

If it was, then, strictly speaking, is every thing which Virginia
has done under that usurpation illegal, and she may be said
to have lived in the most curious species of rebellion ever
known ; rebellion against the London company of adven
turers. For if the charter to the company (for it was not to
the Virginians) ought to be in being now, it ought to have
been in being then ; and why she should admit its vacation
then and reject it now, is unaccountable ; or why she should
esteem her purchases of land good which were then made
contrary to this charter, and now contend for the operation
of the same charter to possess new territory by, are circum
stances which cannot be reconciled.
But whether the charter, as it is called, ought to be extinct
or not, cannot make a question with us. All the parties con
cerned in it are deceased, and no successors, in any regular
line of succession, appear to claim. Neither the London com
pany of adventurers, their heirs or assigns, were in possession
of the exercise of this charter at the commencement of the
revolution ; and therefore the state of Virginia does not, in
point of fact, succeed to and inherit from the company.
But, say they, we succeed to and inherit from the crown
of England, which was the immediate possessor of the sove
reignty at the time we entered, and had been so for 150
years. To say this, is to say there is no charter at all. A charter
is an assurance from one party to another, and cannot be
from the same party to itself.
But before I enter further on this case, I shall concisely
state how this charter came to be re-assumed by the power
which granted it, the crown of England.
I have already stated that it was a proprietary charter, or
grant, to Sir Thomas Gates and others, who were called the
London company, and sometimes the South Virginia com
pany, to distinguish them from those who settled to the
eastward (now New-England) and were then called the North-
Virginia or Plymouth company.
Oldmixon's History of Virginia (in his account of the
British empire in America) published in the year 1708, gives

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 49
a concise progress of the affair. He attributes it to the mis
conduct, contentions and mismanagements of the proprietors,
and their innovations upon the Indians, which had so ex
asperated them, that they fell on the settlers, and destroyed
at one time 334 men, women and children.
" Some time after this massacre," says he, " several gentlemen
in England procured grants of land from the company, and others
came over on their private accounts to make settlements ; among
the former was one captain Martin, who was named to be of the
council. This man raised so many differences among them, that
new distractions followed, which the Indians observing, took heart,
and once more fell upon the settlers on the borders, destroying,
without pitying either age, sex, or condition.
" These and other calamities being chiefly imputed to the mis
management of the proprietors, whose losses had so discouraged
most of their best members, that they sold their shares, and Charles
L, on his accession to the throne, dissolved the company, and took
the colony into his own immediate direction. He appointed the
governor and council himself, ordered all patents and processes to
issue in his own name, and reserved a quit-rent of two shillings
sterling for every hundred acres."
Thus far our author. Now it is impossible for us at this
distance of time to say what were all the exact causes of the
change ; neither have we any business with it. The company
might surrender it, or they might not, or they might forfeit
it by not fulfilling conditions, or they might sell it, or the
crown might, as far as we know, take it from them. But
what are either of these cases to Virginia, or any other
which can be produced. She was not a party in the matter.
It was not her charter, neither can she ingraft any right upon
it, or suffer any injury under it.
If the charter was vacated, it must have been by the
London company ; if it was surrendered, it must be by the
same ; and if it was sold, nobody else could sell it ; and if
it was taken from them, nobody else could lose it ; and yet
Virginia calls this her charter, which it was not within her
power to hold, to sell, to vacate, or to lose.
VOL. II — 4

50 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [r78o
But if she puts her right upon the ground that it never
was sold, surrendered, lost, or vacated, by the London com
pany, she admits that if they had sold, surrendered, lost, or
vacated it, it would have become extinct, and to her no
charter at all. And in this case, the only thing to prove is
the fact, which is, has this charter been the rule of govern
ment, and of purchasing or procuring unappropriated
lands in Virginia, from the time it was granted to the time
of the revolution ? Answer — the charter has not been the
rule of government, nor of purchasing and procuring lands,
neither have any lands been purchased or procured under
its sanction or authority for upwards of 1 50 years.
But if she goes a step further, and says, that they could
not vacate, surrender, sell, or lose it, by any act they could
do, so neither could they vacate, surrender, sell, or lose that
of 1606, which was three years prior to this ; and this argu
ment, so far from establishing the charter of 1609, would
destroy it ; and in its stead confirm the preceding one, which
limited the company to a square of 100 miles. And if she
still goes back to that of Sir Walter Raleigh, that only
places her in the light of Americans in common with all.
The only fact that can be clearly proved is, that the crown
of England exercised the power of dominion and govern
ment in Virginia, and of the disposal of the lands, and that
the charter had neither been the rule of government or pur
chasing land for upwards of 1 50 years, and this places Vir
ginia in succession to the crown, and not to the company.
Consequently it proves a lapse of the charter into the hands
of the crown by some means or other.
Now to suppose that the charter could return into the
hands of the crown and yet remain in force, is to suppose
that a man could be bound by a bond of obligation to him
self. Its very being in the hands of the crown, from which it
issued, is a cessation of its existence ; and an effectual un-
chartering all that part of the grant which was not before
disposed of. And consequently the state of Virginia, stand
ing thus in succession to the crown, can be entitled to no

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 51
more extent of country as a state under the union, than what
it possessed as a province under the crown. And all lands
exterior to these bounds, as well of Virginia as the rest of the
states, devolve, in the order of succession, to the sovereignty
of the United States, for the benefit of all.
And this brings the case to what were the limits of Vir
ginia as a province under the crown of England.
Charter it had none. Its limits then rested at the discre
tion of the authority to which it was subject. Maryland
and Pennsylvania became its boundary to the eastward and
northward, and North Carolina to the southward, therefore
the boundary to the westward was the only principal line to
be ascertained.
As Virginia from a proprietary soil and government was
become what then bore the name of a royal one, the extent
of the province, as the order of things then stood (for some
thing must always be admitted whereon to form a beginning)
was wholly at the disposal of the crown of England, who
might enlarge or diminish, or erect new governments to the
westward, by the same authoritative right that Virginia now
can divide a county into two, if too large, or too incon
venient. To say, as has been said, that Pennsylvania, Maryland,
and North-Carolina, were taken out of Virginia, is no more
than to say, they were taken out of America ; because Vir
ginia was the common name of all the country, north and
south ; and to say they were taken out of the chartered
limits of Virginia, is likewise to say nothing ; because, after
the dissolution or extinction of the proprietary company,
there was nobody to whom any provincial limits became
chartered. The extinction of the company was the extinc
tion of the chartered limits. The patent could not survive
the company, because it was to them a right, which, when
they expired, ceased to be any body's else in their stead.
But to return to the western boundary of Virginia at the
commencement of the revolution.
Charters, like proclamations, were the sole act of the
crown, and if the former were adequate to fix limits to the

52 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. LJ78o
lands which it gave away, sold, or otherwise disposed of, the
latter were equally adequate to fix limits or divisions to
those which it retained ; and therefore, the western limits of
Virginia, as the proprietary company was extinct and con
sequently the patent with it, must be looked for in the line
of proclamations.
I am not fond of quoting these old remains of former arro
gance, but as we must begin somewhere, and as the states have
agreed to regulate the right of each state to territory, by the
condition each stood in with the crown of England at the
commencement of the revolution, we have no other rule to
go by ; and any rule which can be agreed on is better than
none. From the proclamation then of 1763, the western limits
of Virginia, as a province under the crown of England, are
described so as not to extend beyond the heads of any of
the rivers which empty themselves into the Atlantic, and
consequently the limits did not pass over the Allegany
mountains. The following is an extract from the proclamation of
1763, so far as respects boundary:
" And whereas, it is just and reasonable and essential to our
interest, and the security of our colonies, that the several nations
or tribes of Indians, with whom we are connected, and who live
under our protection, should not be molested or disturbed in the
possession of such parts of our dominions and territories, as, not
having been ceded to, or purchased by us, are reserved to them or any
of them as their hunting grounds ; we do therefore, with the advice
of our privy council, declare it to be our royal will and pleasure
that no governor, or commander-in-chief, in any of our colonies
of Quebec, East-Florida, or West-Florida, do presume upon any
pretence whatever, to grant warrants of survey, or pass any
patents for lands beyond the bounds of their respective govern
ments, as described in their commissions : as also that no gov
ernor or commander-in chief of our colonies or plantations in
America, do presume, for the present, and until our further
pleasure be known, to grant warrants of survey or pass patents
for any lands beyond the heads or sources of any of the rivers which

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 53
fall into the Atlantic ocean, from the west or northwest, or upon any
lands whatever, which not having been ceded to or purchased by
us, as aforesaid, are reserved unto the said Indians, or any of
them. " And we do further declare it to be our royal will and pleasure,
for the present, as aforesaid, to reserve under our sovereignty,
protection, and dominion, for the use of the said Indians, all lands
and territories, not included within the limits of our said three new
governments, or within the limits of the territory granted to the
Hudson's bay company ; as also, all the lands and territories
lying to the westward of the sources of the rivers, which fall into the
sea from the west and northwest, as aforesaid ; and we do here
by strictly forbid, on pain of our displeasure, all our loving sub
jects from making any purchases or settlements whatever, or
taking possession of any of the lands above reserved, without our
especial leave and license for that purpose first obtained.
"And we do further strictly enjoin and require all persons
whatever, who have either willfully or inadvertently seated them
selves upon any lands within the countries above described, or
upon any other lands, which, not having been ceded to, or pur
chased by us, are still reserved to the said Indians, as aforesaid,
forthwith to remove themselves from such settlements."
It is easy for us to understand, that the frequent and
plausible mention of the Indians was only a pretext to
create an idea of the humanity of government. The
object and intention of the proclamation was the western
boundary, which is here signified not to extend beyond the
heads of the rivers : and these, then, are the western limits
which Virginia had as a province under the crown of
Britain. And agreeable to the intention of this proclamation, and
the limits described thereby, lord Hillsborough, then secre
tary of state in England, addressed an official letter, of the
31st of July, 1770, to lord Bottetourt, at that time governor
of Virginia, which letter was laid before the council of Vir
ginia by Mr. president Nelson, and by him answered on the
1 8th of October, in the same year, of which the following
are extracts :

54 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
" On the evening of the day your lordship's letter to the gov
ernor was delivered to me (as it contains matters of great variety
and importance) it was read in council, and, together with the
several papers inclosed, it hath been maturely considered, and I
now trouble your lordship with theirs as well as my own opinion
upon the subject of them.
" We do not presume to say to whom our gracious sovereign ,
shall grant the vacant lands," and " with regard to the establish
ment of a new colony on the back of Virginia, it is a subject of too
great political importance for me to presume to give an opinion
upon ; however, permit me, my lord, to observe, that when that
part of the country shall become sufficiently populated it may be
a wise and prudent measure."
On the death of lord Bottetourt, lord Dunmore was ap
pointed to the government, and he, either from ignorance
of the subject or other motives, made a grant of some lands
on the Ohio to certain of his friends and favorites, which
produced the following letter from lord Dartmouth, who
succeeded lord Hillsborough as secretary of state :
" I think fit to inclose your lordship a copy of lord Hills
borough's letter to lord Bottetourt, of the 31st of July, 1770, the
receipt of which was acknowledged by Mr. president Nelson, a
few days before lord Bottetourt's death, and appears by his
answer to it, to have been laid before the council. That board,
therefore, could not be ignorant of what has passed here upon
Mr. Walpole's application, nor of the king's express command,
contained in lord Hillsborough's letter, that no lands should be
granted beyond the limits of the royal proclamation of 1763,
until the king's further pleasure was signified ; and I have only to
observe, that it must have been a very extraordinary neglect in
them not to have informed your lordship of that letter and those
orders." On these documents I shall make no remarks. They are
their own evidence, and show what the limits of Virginia
were while a British province ; and as there was then no
other authority by which they could be fixed, and as the
grant to the London company could not be a grant to any

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 55
but themselves, and of consequence ceased to be when they
ceased to exist, it remained a matter of choice in the crown,
on its re-assumption of the lands, to limit or divide them
into separate governments, as it judged best, and from which
there was not, and could not, in the order of government, be
any appeal. Neither was Virginia, as a province, affected
by it, because the monies, in any case, arising from the sale
of lands, did not go into her treasury ; and whether to the
crown or to the proprietors was to her indifferent. And it
is likewise evident, from the secretary's letter, and the presi
dent's answer, that it was in contemplation to lay out a new
colony on the back of Virginia, between the Allegany moun
tains and the Ohio.
Having thus gone through the several charters, or grants,
and their relation to each other, and shown that Virginia
cannot stand in succession to a private grant, which has been
extinct for upwards of 1 50 years — and that the western limits
of Virginia, at the commencement of the revolution, were at
the heads of the rivers emptying themselves into the Atlan
tic, none of which are beyond the Allegany mountains ; I
now proceed to the second part, namely,
The reasonableness of her claims.
Virginia, as a British province, stood in a different situa
tion with the crown of England to any of the other provinces,
because she had no ascertained limits, but such as arose from
laying off new provinces and the proclamation of 1763. For
the same name, Virginia, as I have before mentioned, was
the general name of all the country, and the dominion out
of which the several governments were laid off : and, in strict
propriety, conformable to the origin of names, the province
of Virginia was taken out of the dominion of Virginia. For
the term, dominion, could not appertain to the province,
which retained the name of Virginia, but to the crown, and
from thence was applied to the whole country, and signified
its being an appendage to the crown of England, as they say
now, " our dominion of Wales."
It is not possible to suppose there could exist an idea that
Virginia, as a British province, was to be extended to the

56 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780

South sea, at the distance of three thousand miles. The
dominion, as appertaining at that time to the crown, might
be claimed to extend so far, but as a province the thought
was not conceivable, nor the practice possible.
And it is more than probable, that the deception made
use of to obtain the patent of 1609, by representing the
South sea to be near where the Allegany mountains are, was
one cause of its becoming extinct ; and it is worthy of re
marking, that no history (at least that I have met with)
mentions any dispute or litigation, between the crown and
the company, in consequence of the extinction of the patent,
and the re-assumption of the lands ; and, therefore, the nega
tive evidence corroborating with the positive, makes it as
certain as such a case can possibly be, that either the com
pany received a compensation for the patent, or quitted it
quietly, ashamed of the imposition they had practised, and
their subsequent mal-administration. Men are not inclined
to give up a claim where there is any ground to contend
upon, and the silence in which the patent expired is a pre
sumptive proof that its fate, from whatever cause, was just.
There is one general policy which seems to have prevailed
with the English in laying off new governments, which was,
not to make them larger than their own country, that they
might the easier hold them manageable : this was the case
with every one except Canada, the extension of whose limits
was for the politic purpose of recognizing new acquisitions
of territory, not immediately convenient for colonization.
But, in order to give this matter a chance through all its
cases, I will admit what no man can suppose, which is, that
there is an English charter that fixes Virginia to extend
from the Atlantic to the South sea, and contained within a
due west line, set off two hundred miles below cape Comfort,
and a northwest line, set off two hundred miles above it.
Her side, then, on the Atlantic (according to an explanation
given in Mr. Bradford's paper of Sept. 29, 1779, by an advo
cate for the Virginia claims) will be four hundred miles ; her
side to the south three thousand ; her side to the west four
thousand ; and her northwest line about five thousand ; and

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 57
the quantity of land contained within these dimensions will
be almost four thousand millions of acres, which is more than
ten times the quantity contained within the present United
States, and above an hundred times greater than the king
dom of England.
To reason on a case like this, is such a waste of time, and
. such an excess of folly, that it ought not to be reasoned
upon. It is impossible to suppose that any patent to private
persons could be so intentionally absurd, and the claim
grounded thereon, is as wild as any thing the imagination
of man ever conceived.
But if, as I before mentioned, there was a charter which
bore such an explanation, and Virginia stood in succession
to it, what would that be to us, any more than the will of
Alexander, had he taken it into his head to have bequeathed
away the world ? Such a charter, or grant, must have been
obtained by imposition and a false representation of the
country, or granted in error, or both ; and in any of, or all
these cases, the United States must reject the matter as
something they cannot know, for the merits will not bear an
argument, and the pretension of right stands upon no better
ground. Our case is an original one ; and many matters attending
it must be determined on their own merits and reasonable
ness. The territory of the rest of the states is, in general,
within known bounds of moderate extent, and the quota
which each state is to furnish towards the expense and
service of the war, must be ascertained upon some rule of
comparison. The number of inhabitants of each state formed
the first rule ; and it was naturally supposed that those num
bers bore nearly the same proportion to each other, which
the territory of each state did. Virginia on this scale, would
be about one fifth larger than Pennsylvania, which would
be as much dominion as any state could manage with happi
ness and convenience.
When I first began this subject, my intention was to be
extensive on the merits, and concise on the matter of the
right ; instead of which, I have been extensive on the matter

58 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
of right, and concise on the merits of reasonableness : and
this alteration in my design arose, consequentially, from the
nature of the subject ; for as a reasonable thing the claim
can be supported by no argument, and therefore, needs none
to refute it ; but as there is a strange propensity in mankind
to shelter themselves under the sanction of right, however
unreasonable that supposed right may be, I found it most
conducive to the interest of the case, to show, that the right
stands upon no better grounds than the reason. And shall
therefore proceed to make some observations on the conse
quences of the claim.
The claim being unreasonable in itself, and standing on no
ground of right, but such as, if true, must, from the quarter
it is drawn, be offensive, has a tendency to create disgust,
and sour the minds of the rest of the states. Those lands
are capable, under the management of the United States, of
repaying the charges of the war, and some of them, as I
shall hereafter show, may, I presume, be made an immedi
ate advantage of.
I distinguish three different descriptions of land in Amer
ica at the commencement of the revolution. Proprietary or
chartered lands, as was the case in Pennsylvania; crown
lands, within the described limits of any of the crown gov
ernments ; and crown residuary lands, that were without or
beyond the limits of any province ; and those last were held
in reserve whereon to erect new governments, and lay out
new provinces ; as appears to have been the design by lord
Hillsborough's letter, and the president's answer, wherein he
says, " with respect to the establishment of a new colony on
the back of Virginia, it is a subject of too great political
importance for me to presume to give an opinion upon;
however, permit me, my lord, to observe, that when that
part of the country shall become populated, it may be a wise
and prudent measure."
The expression is, a "new colony on the back of Vir
ginia;" and referred to lands between the heads of the
rivers and the Ohio. This is a proof that those lands
were not considered within, but beyond the limits of Vir-

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 59
ginia, as a colony ; and the other expression in the letter is
equally descriptive, namely, " We do not presume to say, to
whom our gracious sovereign shall grant his vacant lands."
Certainly then, the same right, which, at that time rested
in the crown, rests now in the more supreme authority of the
United States ; and therefore, addressing the president's
letter to the circumstances of the revolution, it will run
thus :
" We do not presume to say to whom the sovereign United
States shall grant their vacant lands, and with respect to the
settlement of a new colony on the back of Virginia, it is a
matter of too much political importance for me to give an
opinion upon ; however, permit me to observe, that when
that part of the country shall become populated it may be a
wise and prudent measure."
It must occur to every person, on reflection, that those
lands are too distant to be within the government of any
of the present states ; and, I may presume to suppose, that
were a calculation justly made, Virginia has lost more by
the decrease of taxables, than she has gained by what lands
she has made sale of ; therefore, she is not only doing the
rest of the states wrong in point of equity, but herself and
them an injury in point of strength, service, and revenue.
It is only the United States, and not any single state, that
can lay off new states, and incorporate them in the union by
representation ; therefore, the situation which the settlers on
those lands will be in, under the assumed right of Vir
ginia, will be hazardous and distressing, and they will feel
themselves at last like the aliens to the commonwealth of
Israel, their habitations unsafe and their title precarious.
And when men reflect on that peace, harmony, quietude,
and security, which are necessary to prosperity, especially
in making new settlements, and think that when the war
shall be ended, their happiness and safety will depend, on a
union with the states, and not a scattered people, uncon
nected with, and politically unknown to the rest, they will
feel but little inclination to put themselves in a situation,
which, however solitary and recluse it may appear at present,

6b THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. \M%Q
will then be uncertain and unsafe, and their troubles will
have to begin where those of the United States shall end.
It is probable that some of the inhabitants of Virginia
may be inclined to suppose that the writer of this, by
taking up the subject in the manner he has done, is
arguing unfriendly against their interest. To which he
wishes to reply :
That the most extraordinary part of the whole is, that
Virginia should countenance such a claim. For it is worthy
of observing, that, from the beginning of the contest with
Britain, and long after, there was not a people in America
who discovered, through all the variety and multiplicity of
public business, a greater fund of true wisdom, fortitude,
and disinterestedness, than the then colony of Virginia.
They were loved — They were reverenced. Their investiga
tion of the assumed rights of Britain had a sagacity which
was uncommon. Their reasonings were piercing, difficult to
be equalled and impossible to be refuted, and their public
spirit was exceeded by none. But since this unfortunate
land scheme has taken place, their powers seem to be ab
sorbed ; a torpor has overshaded them, and every one asks,
What is become of Virginia ?
It seldom happens that the romantic schemes of extensive
dominion are of any service to a government, and never to a
people. They assuredly end at last in loss, trouble, division
and disappointment. And was even the title of Virginia
good, and the claim admissible, she would derive more last
ing and real benefit by participating in it, than by attempting
the management of an object so infinitely beyond her reach.
Her share with the rest, under the supremacy of the United
States, which is the only authority adequate to the purpose,
would be worth more to her than what the whole would
produce under the management of herself alone. And that
for several reasons :
ist, Because her claim not being admissible nor yet man
ageable, she cannot make a good title to the purchasers,
and consequently can get but little for the lands.
2d, Because the distance the settlers will be from her, will

1780JI PUBLIC GOOD. 6l
immediately put them out of all government and protection,
so far, at least as relates to Virginia : and by this means she
will render her frontiers a refuge to desperadoes, and a hiding
place from justice ; and the consequence will be perpetual
unsafety to her own peace, and that of the neighbouring
states. 3d, Because her quota of expense for carrying on the war,
admitting her to engross such an immensity of territory,
would be greater than she can either support or supply, and
could not be less, upon a reasonable rule of proportion, than
nine-tenths of the whole. And,
4th, Because she must sooner or later relinquish them;
therefore to see her own interest wisely at first, is preferable
to the alternative of finding it out by misfortune at last.
I have now gone through my examination of the claim of
Virginia, in every case which I proposed ; and for several
reasons, wish the lot had fallen to another person. But as
this is a most important matter, in which all are interested,
and the substantial good of Virginia not injured but pro
moted, and as few men have leisure, and still fewer have
inclination, to go into intricate investigation, I have at last
ventured on the subject.
The succession of the United States to the vacant Western
territory is a right they originally set out upon ; and in the
pamphlet " Common Sense," I frequently mentioned those
lands as a national fund for the benefit of all ; therefore,
resuming the subject where I then left off, I shall conclude
with concisely reducing to system what I then only hinted.
In my last piece, the " Crisis Extraordinary," I estimated
the annual amount of the charge of war and the support of
the several governments at two million pounds sterling, and
the peace establishment at three quarters of a million, and,
by a comparison of the taxes of this country with those of
England, proved that the whole yearly expense to us, to
defend the country, is but a third of what Britain would
have drawn from us by taxes, had she succeeded in her
attempt to conquer ; and our peace establishment only an
eighth part; and likewise showed, that it was within the

62 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [l78°
ability of the states to carry on the whole of the war by
taxation, without having recourse to any other modes or
funds. To have a clear idea of taxation is necessary to
every country, and the more funds we can discover and
organize, the less will be the hope of the enemy, and the
readier their disposition to peace, which it is now their
interest more than ours to promote.
I have already remarked that only the United States, and
not any particular state, can lay off new states and incorpo
rate them into the union by representation ; keeping, there
fore, this idea in view, I ask, might not a substantial fund
be quickly created by laying off a new state, so as to contain
between twenty and thirty millions of acres, and opening a
land office in all countries in Europe for hard money, and in
this country for supplies in kind, at a certain price.
The tract of land that seems best adapted to answer this
purpose is contained between the Allegany mountains and
the river Ohio, as far north as the Pennsylvania line, thence
extending down the said river to the falls thereof, thence
due south into the latitude of the North-Carolina line, and
thence east to the Allegany mountains aforesaid. I the
more readily mention this tract, because it is fighting the
enemy with their own weapons, as it includes the same
ground on which a new colony would have been erected, for
the emolument of the crown of England, as appears by the
letters of lords Hillsborough and Dartmouth, had not the
revolution prevented its being carried into effect.
It is probable that there may be some spots of private
property within this tract, but to incorporate them into some
government will render them more profitable to the owners,
and the condition of the scattered settlers more eligible and
happy than at present.
If twenty millions of acres of this new state be patented
and sold at twenty pounds sterling per hundred acres, they
will produce four million pounds sterling, which, if applied
to continental expenses only, will support the war for three
years, should Britain be so unwise as to prosecute it against
her own direct interest and against the interest and policy

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 63
of all Europe. The several states will then have to raise
taxes for their internal government only, and the continental
taxes, as soon as the fund begins to operate, will lessen, and
if sufficiently productive, will cease.
Lands are the real riches of the habitable world, and the
natural funds of America. The funds of other countries are,
in general, artificially constructed ; the creatures of necessity
and contrivance; dependant upon credit, and always ex
posed to hazard and uncertainty. But lands can neither be
annihilated nor lose their value ; on the contrary, they uni
versally rise with population, and rapidly so, when under
the security of effectual government. But this it is impos
sible for Virginia to give, and therefore, that which is capable
of defraying the expenses of the empire, will, under the
management of any single state, produce only a fugitive
support to wandering individuals.
I shall now inquire into the effects which the laying out
a new state, under the authority of the United States, will
have upon Virginia. It is the very circumstance she ought
to, and must, wish for, when she examines the matter in all
its bearings and consequences.
The present settlers beyond her reach, and her supposed
authority over them remaining in herself, they will appear
to her as revolters, and she to them as oppressors ; and this
will produce such a spirit of mutual dislike, that in a little
time a total disagreement will take place, to the disadvan
tage of both. But under the authority of the United States
the matter is manageable, and Virginia will be eased of a
disagreeable consequence.
Besides this, a sale of the lands,continentally , for the purpose
of supporting the expense of the war, will save her a greater
share of taxes, than the small sale which she could make her
self, and the small price she could get for them would produce.
She would likewise have two advantages which no other
state in the union enjoys ; first, a frontier state for her defence
against the incursions of the Indians ; and the second is, that
the laying out and peopling a new state on the back of an old
one, situated as she is, is doubling the quantity of its trade.
The new state which is here proposed to be laid out, may

64 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
send its exports down the Mississippi, but its imports must
come through Chesapeake bay, and consequently Virginia
will become the market for the new state ; because, though
there is a navigation from it, there is none into it, on account
of the rapidity of the Mississippi.
There are certain circumstances that will produce certain
events whether men think of them or not. The events do
not depend upon thinking, but are the natural consequence
of acting ; and according to the system which Virginia has
gone upon, the issue will be, that she will get involved with
the back settlers in a contention about rights, till they dis
pute with their own claims ; and, soured by the contention,
will go to any other state for their commerce ; both of which
may be prevented, a perfect harmony established, the
strength of the states increased, and the expenses of the war
defrayed, by settling the matter now on the plan of a gen
eral right ; and every day it is delayed, the difficulty will be
increased and the advantages lessened.
But if it should happen, as it possibly may, that the war
should end before the money, which the new state may pro
duce, be expended, the remainder of the lands therein may
be set apart to reimburse those whose houses have been
burnt by the enemy, as this is a species of suffering which it
was impossible to prevent, because houses are not moveable
property ; and it ought not to be that because we cannot do
every thing, that we ought not to do what we can.
Having said this much on the subject, I think it necessary
to remark, that the prospect of a new fund, so far from
abating our endeavours in making every immediate provision
for the army, ought to quicken us therein ; for should the
states see it expedient to go upon the measure, it will be at
least a year before it can be productive. I the more freely
mention this, because there is a dangerous species of popu
larity, which, I fear, some men are seeking from their con
stituents by giving them grounds to believe, that if they are
elected they will lighten the taxes ; a measure which, in the
present state of things, cannot be done without exposing the
country to the ravages of the enemy by disabling the army
from defending it.

1780] PUBLIC GOOD. 65
Where knowledge is a duty, ignorance is a crime ; and if
any man whose duty it was to know better, has encouraged
such an expectation, he has either deceived himself or them :
besides, no country can be defended without expense, and
let any man compare his portion of temporary inconven
iences arising from taxation with the real distresses of the
army for the want of supplies, and the difference is not only
sufficient to strike him dumb, but make him thankful that
worse consequences have not followed.
In advancing this doctrine, I speak with an honest free
dom to the country ; for as it is their good to be defended,
so it is their interest to provide that defence, at least till
other funds can be organized.
As the laying out new states will some time or other be
the business of the country, and as it is yet a new business
to us, and as the influence of the war has scarcely afforded
leisure for reflecting on distant circumstances, I shall throw
together a few hints for facilitating that measure whenever
it may be proper for adopting it.
The United States now standing on the line of sovereign
ty, the vacant territory is their property collectively, but the
persons by whom it may hereafter be peopled will also have
an equal right with ourselves ; and therefore, as new states
shall be laid off and incorporated with the present, they will
become partakers of the remaining territory with us who are
already in possession. And this consideration ought to
heighten the value of lands to new emigrants : because, in
making the purchases, they not only gain an immediate
property, but become initiated into the right and heirship of
the states to a property in reserve, which is an additional
advantage to what any purchasers under the late government
of England enjoyed.
The setting off the boundary of any new state will naturally
be the first step, and as it must be supposed not to be
peopled at the time it is laid off, a constitution must be
formed by the United States, as the rule of government in
any new state, for a certain term of years (perhaps ten) or
until the state becomes peopled to a certain number of in-

66 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1780
habitants ; after which, the whole and sole right of modelling
their government to rest with themselves.
A question may arise, whether a new state should imme
diately possess an equal right with the present ones in all
cases which may come before congress.
This, experience will best determine ; but at a first view of
the matter it appears thus : that it ought to be immediately
incorporated into the union on the ground of a family right,
such a state standing in the line of a younger child of the
same stock ; but as new emigrants will have something to learn
when they first come to America, and a new state requiring aid
rather than capable of giving it, it might be most convenient
to admit its immediate representation into congress, there to
sit, hear and debate on all questions and matters, but not to
vote on any till after the expiration of seven years.
I shall in this place take the opportunity of renewing a
hint which I formerly threw out in the pamphlet " Common
Sense," and which the several states will, sooner or later, see
the convenience if not the necessity of adopting ; which is,
that of electing a continental convention, for the purpose of
forming a continental constitution, defining and describing
the powers and authority of congress.
Those of entering into treaties, and making peace, they
naturally possess, in behalf of the states, for their separate
as well as their united good, but the internal control and
dictatorial powers of congress are not sufficiently defined,
and appear to be too much in some cases and too little in
others ; and therefore, to have them marked out legally will
give additional energy to the whole, and a new confidence to
the several parts.1
1 When, at Washington's request, a bill to bestow on Paine an honorarium of
^2000 for his services in the Revolution was introduced into the Virginia Legis
lature (June 30, 1784), it was lost by one vote, because (according to Richard
Henry Lee) of his ' ' having written a pamphlet injurious to our claim of Western
Territory." Yet before this Virginia had conceded its claim, on certain con
ditions, to the United States. The concession was accepted by Congress (March
r> I784)» but the conditions neither admitted nor rejected ; and this evasion
seems to have left in Virginia a soreness which rendered Paine's pamphlet, which
involved the formidable issue of State sovereignty, a costly effort of patriotism
to himself. See my " Life of Paine," vol. i., pp. 163 seq., 206. — Editor.

LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL.

INTRODUCTION.
A LONDON translation of an original work in French, by
the abbe Raynal, which treats of the revolution of North-
America, having been re-printed in Philadelphia and other
parts of the continent, and as the distance at which the abbe
is placed from the American theatre of war and politics, has
occasioned him to mistake several facts, or misconceive the
causes or principles by which they were produced, the follow
ing tract, therefore, is published with a view to rectify them,
and prevent even accidental errors from intermixing with
history, under the sanction of time and silence.
The editor of the London edition has entitled it, " The
Revolution of America, by the abbe Raynal," and the
American printers have followed the example. But I have
understood, and I believe my information just, that the
piece, which is more properly reflections on the revolution,
was unfairly purloined from the printer whom the abbe em
ployed, or from the manuscript copy, and is only part of a
larger work then in the press, or preparing for it. The per
son who procured it, appears to have been an Englishman,
and though, in an advertisement prefixed to the London
edition, he has endeavoured to gloss over the embezzlement
1 This pamphlet was published in 1782, with the following title : "Letter
to the Abbe Raynal, on the Affairs of North America : in which the Mistakes
in the Abbe's Account of the Revolution of America are Corrected and Cleared
up." — Editor. 67

68 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
with professions of patriotism, and to soften it with high
encomiums on the author, yet the action in any view in
which it can be placed, is illiberal and unpardonable.
" In the course of his travels," says he, " the translator happily
succeeded in obtaining a copy of this exquisite little piece which
has not made its appearance from any press. He publishes a
French edition, in favor of those who feel its eloquent reasoning
more forcibly in its native language, at the same time with the fol
lowing translation of it : in which he has been desirous, perhaps
in vain, that all the warmth, the grace, the strength, the dignity of
the original, should not be lost. And he flatters himself, that the
indulgence of the illustrious historian will not be wanting to a man,
who, of his own motion, has taken the liberty to give this compo
sition to the public, only from a strong pursuasion, that its mo
mentous argument will be useful in a critical conjuncture, to that
country which he loves with an ardour that can be exceeded only
by the nobler flame, which burns in the bosom of the philanthropic
author, for the freedom and happiness of all the countries upon
earth." This plausibility of setting off a dishonourable action, may
pass for patriotism and sound principles with those who do
not enter into its demerits, and whose interest is not injured
nor their happiness affected thereby. But it is more than
probable, notwithstanding the declarations it contains, that
the copy was obtained for the sake of profiting by the sale
of a new and popular work, and that the professions are but
a garb to the fraud.
It may with propriety be marked, that in all countries where
literature is protected, and it never can flourish where it is
not, the works of an author are his legal property ; and to
treat letters in any other light than this, is to banish them
from the country, or strangle them in the birth. — The em
bezzlement from the abbe Raynal, was, it is true, committed
by one country upon another, and therefore shows no defect
in the laws of either. But it is nevertheless a breach of civil
manners and literary justice : neither can it be any apology,

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 69
that because the countries are at war, literature shall be
entitled to depredation.*
But the forestalling the abbe's publication by London edi
tions, both in French and English, and thereby not only
defrauding him and throwing an expensive publication on
his hands by anticipating the sale, are only the smaller in
juries which such conduct may occasion. A man's opinions,
whether written or in thought, are his own, until he pleases
to publish them himself ; and it is adding cruelty to injus
tice, to make him the author of what future reflection, or
better information, might occasion him to suppress or amend.
There are declarations and sentiments in the abbe's piece
which, for my own part, I did not expect to find, and such
as himself, on a revisal, might have seen occasion to change ;
but the anticipated piracy effectually prevented his having
the opportunity, and precipitated him into difficulties,
which, had it not been for such ungenerous fraud, might not
have happened.
This mode of making an author appear before his time,
will appear still more ungenerous, when we consider how
very few men there are in any country, who can at once,
and without the aid of reflection and revisal, combine warm
passions with a cool temper, and the full expansion of the
imagination with the natural and necessary gravity of judg
ment, so as to be rightly balanced within themselves, and to
make a reader feel, fancy, and understand justly at the same
time. To call three powers of the mind into action at once,
in a manner that neither shall interrupt, and that each
* The state of literature in America must one day become a subject of legis
lative consideration. Hitherto it hath been a disinterested volunteer in the
service of the revolution, and no man thought of profits : but when peace shall
give time and opportunity for study, the country will deprive itself of the honour
and service of letters and the improvement of science, unless sufficient laws are
made to prevent depredations on literary property. It is well worth remarking,
that Russia, who but a few years ago was scarcely known in Europe, owes a
large share of her present greatness to the close attention she has paid, and the
wise encouragement she has given, to every branch of science and learning : and
we have almost the same instance in France, in the reign of Louis XIV. —
Author.

70 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
shall aid and invigorate the other, is a talent very rarely
possessed. It often happens that the weight of an argument is lost by
the wit of setting it off ; or the judgment disordered by an
intemperate irritation of the passions : yet a certain degree
of animation must be felt by the writer, and raised in the
reader, in order to interest the attention ; and a sufficient
scope given to the imagination, to enable it to create in the
mind a sight of the persons, characters and circumstances of
the subject : for without these, the judgment will feel little
or no excitement to office, and its determinations will be cold,
sluggish, and imperfect. But if either or both of the two
former are raised too high, or heated too much, the judg
ment will be jostled from its seat, and the whole matter,
however important in itself, will diminish into a pantomime
of the mind, in which we create images that promote no
other purpose than amusement.
The abbe's writings bear evident marks of that extension
and rapidness of thinking and quickness of sensation, which
of all others require revisal, and the more particularly so,
when applied to the living characters of nations or indi
viduals in a state of war. The least misinformation or mis
conception leads to some wrong conclusion, and an error
believed, becomes the progenitor of others. And, as the
abbe has suffered some inconveniences in France, by mis
taking certain circumstances of the war, and the characters
of the parties therein, it becomes some apology for him that
those errors were precipitated into the world by the avarice
of an ungenerous enemy.

LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL.
To an author of such distinguished reputation as the
abbe Raynal, it might very well become me to apologize
for the present undertaking ; but, as to be right is the
first wish of philosophy, and the first principle of history,
he will, I presume, accept from me a declaration of my
motives, which are those of doing justice, in preference to
any complimental apology I might otherwise make. The
abbe, in the course of his work, has, in some instances,
extolled without a reason, and wounded without a cause.
He has given fame where it was not deserved, and with
held it where it was justly due ; and appears to be so fre
quently in and out of temper with his subjects and parties,
that few or none of them are decisively and uniformly
marked. It is yet too soon to write the history of the revolution,
and whoever attempts it precipitately, will unavoidably mis
take characters and circumstances, and involve himself in
error and difficulty. Things, like men, are seldom under
stood rightly at first sight. But the abbe is wrong even in
the foundation of his work ; that is, he has misconceived and
mis-stated the causes which produced the rupture between
England and her then colonies, and which led on, step by
step, unstudied and uncontrived on the part of America, to
a revolution, which has engaged the attention, and affected
the interest of Europe.
To prove this, I shall bring forward a passage, which,
though placed towards the latter part of the abbe's work, is
more intimately connected with the beginning ; and in
which, speaking of the original cause of the dispute, he
declares himself in the following manner —
7i

72 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
" None," says he, " of those energetic causes, which have pro
duced so many revolutions upon the globe, existed in North-
America. Neither religion nor laws had there been outraged.
The blood of martyrs or patriots had not there streamed from
scaffolds. Morals had not there been insulted. Manners, cus
toms, habits, no object dear to nations, had there been the sport
of ridicule. Arbitrary power had not there torn any inhabitant
from the arms of his family and friends, to drag him to a dreary
dungeon. Public order had not been there inverted. The prin
ciples of administration had not been changed there ; and the
maxims of government had there always remained the same. The
whole question was reduced to the knowing whether the mother
country had, or had not, a right to lay, directly or indirectly, a
slight tax upon the colonies."
On this extraordinary passage, it may not be improper, in
general terms, to remark, that none can feel like those who
suffer ; and that for a man to be a competent judge of the pro
vocatives, or as the abbe styles them, the energetic causes of
the revolution, he must have resided at the time in America.
The abbe, in saying that the several particulars he has
enumerated, did not exist in America, and neglecting to
point out the particular period, in which he means they did
not exist, reduces thereby his declaration to a nullity, by
taking away all meaning from the passage.
They did not exist in 1763, and they all existed before
1776 ; consequently as there was a time when they did not,
and another, when they did exist, the time when constitutes
the essence of the fact, and not to give it is to withhold the
only evidence which proves the declaration right or wrong,
and on which it must stand or fall. But the declaration as
it now appears, unaccompanied by time, has an effect in
holding out to the world, that there was no real cause for
the revolution, because it denies the existence of all those
causes, which are supposed to be justifiable, and which the
abbe styles energetic.
I confess myself exceedingly at a loss to find out the time
to which the abbe alludes ; because, in another part of, the
work, in speaking of the stamp act, which was passed in

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 73
1764, he styles it " an usurpation of the Americans' most pre
cious and sacred rights!' Consequently he here admits the
most energetic of all causes, that is, an usurpation of their
most precious and sacred rights, to have existed in America
twelve years before the declaration of independence, and
ten years before the breaking out of hostilities. The time,
therefore, in which the paragraph is true, must be antecedent
to the stamp act, but as at that time there was no revolu
tion, nor any idea of one, it consequently applies without a
meaning ; and as it cannot, on the abbe's own principle, be
applied to any time after the stamp act, it is therefore a
wandering solitary paragraph, connected with nothing and
at variance with everything.
The stamp act, it is true, was repealed in two years after it
was passed, but it was immediately followed by one of infi
nitely more mischievous magnitude ; I mean the declaratory
act, which asserted the right, as it was styled, of the British
parliament, " to bind America in all cases whatsoever."
If then the stamp act was an usurpation of the Americans'
most precious and sacred rights, the declaratory act left them
no rights at all ; and contained the full grown seeds of the
most despotic government ever exercised in the world. It
placed America not only in the lowest, but in the basest
state of vassalage ; because it demanded an unconditional
submission in every thing, or as the act expresses it, in all
cases whatsoever : and what renders this act the more offen
sive, is, that it appears to have been passed as an act of
mercy ; truly then may it be said, that the tender mercies of
the wicked are cruel.
All the original charters from the crown of England, under
the faith of which the adventurers from the old world set
tled in the new, were by this act displaced from their foun
dations ; because, contrary to the nature of them, which was
that of a compact, they were now made subject to repeal or
alteration at the mere will of one party only. The whole
condition of America was thus put into the hands of the
parliament or ministry, without leaving to her the least right
in any case whatsoever.

74 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
There is no despotism to which this iniquitous law did not
extend ; and though it might have been convenient in the
execution of it, to have consulted manners and habits, the
principle of the act made all tyranny legal. It stopped no
where. It went to every thing. It took in with it the
whole life of a man, or if I may so express it, an eternity of
circumstances. It is the nature of law to require obedience,
but this demanded servitude ; and the condition of an
American, under the operation of it, was not that of a sub
ject, but a vassal. Tyranny has often been established
without law and sometimes against it, but the history of
mankind does not produce another instance, in which it has
been established by law. It is an audacious outrage upon
civil government, and cannot be too much exposed, in order
to be sufficiently detested.
Neither could it be said after this, that the legislature of
that country any longer made laws for this, but that it gave
out commands ; for wherein differed an act of parliament
constructed on this principle, and operating in this manner,
over an unrepresented people, from the orders of a military
establishment ?
The parliament of England, with respect to America, was
not septennial but perpetual. It appeared to the latter a
body always in being. Its election or expiration were to
her the same as if its members succeeded by inheritance, or
went out by death, or lived for ever, or were appointed to it
as a matter of office. Therefore, for the people of England
to have any just conception of the mind of America, re
specting this extraordinary act, they must suppose all elec
tion and expiration in that country to cease for ever, and
the present parliament, its heirs, etc. to be perpetual ; in this
case, I ask, what would the most clamorous of them think,
were an act to be passed, declaring the right of such a par
liament to bind them in all cases whatsoever ? For this word
whatsoever would go as effectually to their magna charta, bill
of rights, trial by juries, etc. as it went to the charters and
forms of government in America.
I am persuaded, that the gentleman to whom I address

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 7$
these remarks, will not, after the passing of this act, say,
" that the principles of administration had not been changed
in America, and that the maxims of government had there
been always the same!' For here is, in principle, a total
overthrow of the whole ; and not a subversion only, but an
annihilation of the foundation of liberty and absolute domi
nation established in its stead.
The abbe likewise states the case exceedingly wrong and
injuriously, when he says, that " the whole question was re
duced to the knowing whether the mother country had, or
had not, a right to lay, directly or indirectly, a slight tax
upon the colonies." This was not the whole of the question ;
neither was the quantity of the tax the object either to the
ministry or to the Americans. It was the principle, of which
the tax made but a part, and the quantity still less, that
formed the ground on which America resisted.
The tax on tea, which is the tax here alluded to, was
neither more nor less than an experiment to establish the
practice of the declaratory law upon ; modelled into the more
fashionable phrase of the universal supremacy of parliament.
For until this time the declaratory law had lain dormant,
and the framers of it had contented themselves with barely
declaring an opinion.
Therefore the whole question with America, in the opening
of the dispute, was, shall we be bound in all cases whatsoever
by the British parliament, or shall we not ? For submission
to the tea or tax act implied an acknowledgment of the de
claratory act, or, in other words, of the universal supremacy
of parliament, which as they never intended to do, it was
necessary they should oppose it, in its first stage of execution.
It is probable the abbe has been led into this mistake by
perusing detached pieces in some of the American newspa
pers ; for, in a case where all were interested, every one had
a right to give his opinion ; and there were many, who, with
the best intentions, did not choose the best, nor indeed the
true ground, to defend their cause upon. They felt them
selves right by a general impulse, without being able to sep
arate, analyze, and arrange the parts.

76 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
I am somewhat unwilling to examine too minutely into
the whole of this extraordinary passage of the abbe, lest I
should appear to treat it with severity ; otherwise I could
show that not a single declaration is justly founded : for in
stance, the reviving an obsolete act of the reign of Henry
VIII. and fitting it to the Americans, by authority of which
they were to be seized and brought from America to Eng
land, and there imprisoned and tried for any supposed
offences, was, in the worst sense of the words, to tear them,
by the arbitrary power of parliament, from the arms of their
families and friends, and drag them not only to dreary but
distant dungeons. Yet this act was contrived some years
before the breaking out of hostilities. And again, though
the blood of martyrs and patriots had not streamed on the
scaffolds, it streamed in the streets, in the massacre of
the inhabitants of Boston, by the British soldiery in the
year 1770.
Had the abbe said that the causes which produced the
revolution in America were originally different from those
which produced revolutions in other parts of the globe, he
had been right. Here the value and quality of liberty, the
nature of government, and the dignity of man, were known
and understood, and the attachment of the Americans to
these principles produced the revolution, as a natural and
almost unavoidable consequence. They had no particular
family to set up or pull down. Nothing of personality was
incorporated with their cause. They started even-handed
with each other, and went no faster into the several stages of
it, than they were driven by the unrelenting and imperious
conduct of Britain. Nay, in the last act, the declaration of
independence, they had nearly been too late ; for had it not
been declared at the exact time it was, I see no period in
their affairs since, in which it could have been declared with
the same effect, and probably not at all.
But the object being formed before the reverse of fortune
took place, that is, before the operations of the gloomy cam
paign of 1776, their honour, their interest, their every thing,
called loudly on them to maintain it; and that glow of

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. TJ
thought and energy of heart, which even a distant prospect
of independence inspires, gave confidence to their hopes, and
resolution to their conduct, which a state of dependance
could never have reached. They looked forward to happier
days and scenes of rest, and qualified the hardships of the
campaign by contemplating the establishment of their new
born system.
If, on the other hand, we take a review of what part Britain
has acted, we shall find everything which ought to make a
nation blush, — the most vulgar abuse, accompanied by that
species of haughtiness which distinguishes the hero of a
mob from the character of a gentleman. It was equally
as much from her manners as from her injustice that she
lost the colonies. By the latter she provoked their prin
ciples, by the former she wore out their temper; and it
ought to be held out as an example to the world, to show
how necessary it is to conduct the business of government
with civility. In short, other revolutions may have origi
nated in caprice, or generated in ambition ; but here, the
most unoffending humility was tortured into rage, and the
infancy of existence made to weep.
A union so extensive, continued and determined, suffer
ing with patience and never in despair, could not have been
produced by common causes. It must be something capa
ble of reaching the whole soul of man and arming it with
perpetual energy. It is in vain to look for precedents
among the revolutions of former ages, to find out, by com
parison, the causes of this. The spring, the progress, the
object, the consequences, nay, the men, their habits of think
ing, and all the circumstances of the country, are different.
Those of other nations are, in general, little more than the
history of their quarrels. They are marked by no important
character in the annals of events ; mixed in the mass of
general matters, they occupy but a common page ; and
while the chief of the successful partisans stepped into power,
the plundered multitude sat down and sorrowed. Few, very
few of them are accompanied with reformation, either in
government or manners ; many of them with the most con-

78 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
summate profligacy. Triumph on the one side and misery on
the other were the only events. Pains, punishments, torture,
and death were made the business of mankind, until com
passion, the fairest associate of the heart, was driven from its
place, and the eye, accustomed to continual cruelty, could
behold it without offence.
But as the principles of the present revolution differed
from those which preceded it, so likewise did the conduct
of America both in government and war. Neither the foul
finger of disgrace nor the bloody hand of vengeance has
hitherto put a blot upon her fame. Her victories have re
ceived lustre from a greatness of lenity ; and her laws have
been permitted to slumber, where they might justly be
awakened to punish. War, so much the trade of the world,
has here been only the business of necessity ; and when the
necessity shall cease, her very enemies must confess, that as
she drew the sword in her just defence, she used it without
cruelty, and sheathed it without revenge.
As it is not my design to extend these remarks to a history,
I shall now take my leave of this passage of the abbe, with
an observation, which, until something unfolds itself to con
vince me otherwise, I cannot avoid believing to be true ; —
which is, that it was the fixed determination of the British
cabinet to quarrel with America at all events.
They (the members who composed the cabinet) had no
doubt of success, if they could once bring it to the issue of a
battle, and they expected from a conquest, what they could
neither propose with decency, nor hope for by negotiation.
The charters and constitutions of the colonies were become
to them matters of offence, and their rapid progress in
property and population were disgustingly beheld as the
growing and natural means of independence. They saw no
way to retain them long but by reducing them in time. A
conquest would at once have made them both lords and
landlords ; and put them in the possession both of the reve
nue and the rental. The whole trouble of government would
have ceased in a victory, and a final end put to remonstrance
and debate. The experience of the stamp act had taught

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 79
them how to quarrel with the advantages of cover and con
venience, and they had nothing to do but to renew the scene,
and put contention into motion. They hoped for a rebellion,
and they made one. They expected a declaration of inde
pendence, and they were not disappointed. But after this,
they looked for victory, and they obtained a defeat.
If this be taken as the generating cause of the contest,
then is every part of the conduct of the British ministry
consistent from the commencement of the dispute, until the
signing the treaty of Paris, after which, conquest becoming
doubtful, they retreated to negotiation, and were again
defeated. Though the abbe possesses and displays great powers of
genius, and is a master of style and language, he seems not
to pay equal attention to the office of an historian. His facts
are coldly and carelessly stated. They neither inform the
reader nor interest him. Many of them are erroneous, and
most of them are defective and obscure. It is undoubtedly
both an ornament and a useful addition to history, to accom
pany it with maxims and reflections. They afford likewise
an agreeable change to the style, and a more diversified man
ner of expression ; but it is absolutely necessary that the root
from whence they spring, or the foundation on which they
are raised, should be well attended to, which in this work is
not. The abbe hastens through his narrations as if he was
glad to get from them, that he may enter the more copious
field of eloquence and imagination.
The actions of Trenton and Princeton, in New-Jersey, in
December 1776, and January following, on which the fate of
America stood for a while trembling on the point of sus
pense, and from which the most important consequences
followed, are comprised within a single paragraph, faintly
•conceived, and barren of character, circumstance and de
scription. " On the 25th of December," says the abbe, " they (the Ameri
cans) crossed the Delaware, and fell accidentally upon Trenton,
which was occupied by fifteen hundred of the twelve thousand

80 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
Hessians, sold in so base a manner by their avaricious master, to
the king of Great-Britain. This corps was massacred, taken, or
dispersed. Eight days after, three English regiments were, in like
manner, driven from Princeton, but after having better supported
their reputation than the foreign troops in their pay."
This is all the account which is given of these interesting
events. The abbe has preceded them by two or three pages
on the military operations of both armies, from the time of
general Howe's arriving before New-York from Halifax, and
the vast reinforcements of British and foreign troops with
lord Howe from England. But in these, there is so much
mistake, and so many omissions, that, to set them right, must
be the business of a history and not of a letter. The action
of Long-Island is but barely hinted at, and the operations at
the White-plains wholly omitted ; as are likewise the attack
and loss of fort Washington, with a garrison of about two
thousand five hundred men, and the precipitate evacuation
of fort Lee, in consequence thereof : which losses were in a
great measure the cause of the retreat through the Jerseys
to the Delaware, a distance of about ninety miles. Neither
is the manner of the retreat described ; which, from the sea
son of the year, the nature of the country, the nearness of
the two armies (sometimes within sight and shot of each
other, for such a length of way) the rear of the one employed
in pulling down bridges, and the van of the other in building
them up, must necessarily be accompanied with many inter
esting circumstances.
It was a period of distresses. A crisis rather of danger
than of hope. There is no description can do it justice ; and
even the actors in it, looking back upon the scene, are sur
prised how they got through ; and at a loss to account for
those powers of the mind, and springs of animation, by which
they withstood the force of accumulated misfortune.
It was expected, that the time for which the army was en
listed, would carry the campaign so far into the winter, that
the severity of the season, and the consequent condition of
the roads, would prevent any material operation of the enemy,

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 8 1
until the new army could be raised for the next year. And
I mention it, as a matter worthy of attention, by all future
historians, that the movements of the American army, until
the attack upon the Hessian post at Trenton, the 26th of
December, are to be considered as operating to effect no
other principal purpose than delay, and to wear away the
campaign under all the disadvantages of an unequal force,
with as little misfortune as possible.
But the loss of the garrison at fort Washington on the
16th of November, and the expiration of the time of a con
siderable part of the army, so early as the 30th of the same
month, and which was to be followed by almost daily ex
pirations afterwards, made retreat the only final expedient.
To these circumstances may be added the forlorn and desti
tute condition of the few that remained ; for the garrison of
fort Lee, which composed almost the whole of the retreat,
had been obliged to abandon it so instantaneously, that
every article of stores and baggage was left behind, and in
this destitute condition, without tent or blanket, and with
out any other utensils to dress their provision than what
they procured by the way, they performed a march of about
ninety miles, and had the address and management to pro
long it to the space of nineteen days.
By this unexpected or rather unthought-of turn of affairs,
the country was in an instant surprised into confusion, and
found an enemy within its bowels, without an army to
oppose him. There were no succours to be had, but from
the free-will offering of the inhabitants. All was choice, and
every man reasoned for himself.
It was in this situation of affairs, equally calculated to
confound or to inspire, that the gentleman, the merchant,
the farmer, the tradesman and the labourer mutually turned
from all the conveniences of home, to perform the duties of
private soldiers, and undergo the severities of a winter cam
paign. The delay so judiciously contrived on the retreat,
afforded time for the volunteer reinforcements to join
general Washington on the Delaware.
The abbe is likewise wrong in saying, that the American

82 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
army fell accidentally on Trenton. It was the very object
for which general Washington crossed the Delaware in the
dead of the night and in the midst of snow, storms, and ice ;
and which he immediately re-crossed with his prisoners, as
soon as he had accomplished his purpose. Neither was the
intended enterprise a secret to the enemy, information hav
ing been sent of it by letter, from a British officer at Prince
ton, to colonel Rolle, who commanded the Hessians at
Trenton, which letter was afterwards found by the Ameri
cans. Nevertheless the post was completely surprised. A
small circumstance, which had the appearance of mistake on
the part of the Americans, led to a more capital and real
mistake on the part of Rolle.
The case was this. A detachment of twenty or thirty
Americans had been sent across the river, from a post a few
miles above, by an officer unacquainted with the intended
attack ; these were met by a body of Hessians, on the night)
to which the information pointed, which was Christmas
night, and repulsed. Nothing further appearing, and the
Hessians mistaking this for the advanced party, supposed
the enterprise disconcerted, which at that time was not
begun, and under this idea returned to their quarters ; so
that, what might have raised an alarm, and brought the
Americans into an ambuscade, served to take off the force
of an information, and promote the success of the enterprise.
Soon after daylight, general Washington entered the town,
and after a little opposition, made himself master of it, with
upwards of nine hundred prisoners.
This combination of equivocal circumstances, falling within
what the abbe styles, " the wide empire of chance" would
have afforded a fine field for thought, and I wish, for the
sake of that elegance of reflection he is so capable of using,
that he had known it.
But the action at Princeton was accompanied by a still
greater embarrassment of matters, and followed by more
extraordinary consequences. The Americans, by a happy
stroke of generalship, in this instance, not only deranged
and defeated all the plans of the British, in the intended

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 83
moment of execution, but drew from their posts the enemy
they were not able to drive, and obliged them to close the
campaign. As the circumstance is a curiosity in war, and
not well understood in Europe, I shall, as concisely as I can,
relate the principal parts ; they may serve to prevent future
historians from error, and recover from forgetfulness a scene
of magnificent fortitude.1
Immediately after the surprise of the Hessians at Trenton,
general Washington re-crossed the Delaware, which at this
place is about three quarters of a mile over, and reassumed
his former post on the Pennsylvania side. Trenton remained
unoccupied, and the enemy were posted at Princeton, twelve
miles distant, on the road towards New-York. The weather
was now growing very severe, and as there were very few
houses near the shore where general Washington had taken
his station, the greatest part of his army remained out in the
woods and fields. These, with some other circumstances,
induced the re-crossing the Delaware and taking possession
of Trenton. It was undoubtedly a bold adventure, and
carried with it the appearance of defiance, especially when
we consider the panic-struck condition of the enemy on the
loss of the Hessian post. But in order to give a just idea of
the affair, it is necessary that I should describe the place.
Trenton is situated on a rising ground, about three quar
ters of a mile distant from the Delaware, on the eastern or
Jersey side ; and is cut into two divisions by a small creek
or rivulet, sufficient to turn a mill which is on it, after which
it empties itself at nearly right angles into the Delaware.
The upper division, which is that to the northeast, contains
about seventy or eighty houses, and the lower about forty
or fifty. The ground on each side this creek, and on which
the houses are, is likewise rising, and the two divisions
present an agreeable prospect to each other, with the creek
1 Paine, who had retreated with Washington, fought in the battles of Tren
ton and Princeton. It was in the camp near Princeton that Washington gave
Paine an overcoat, his own having been stolen ("Life of Paine," ii., p. 469). A
piece of this coat, erroneously labelled as " worn at Bunker Hill," in the
Leicester (England) Museum is now undiscoverable. — Editor.

84 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
between, on which there is a small stone bridge of one
arch. Scarcely had general Washington taken post here, and
before the several parties of militia, out on detachments, or
on their way, could be collected, than the British, leaving
behind them a strong garrison at Princeton, marched sud
denly and entered Trenton at the upper or northeast quarter.
A party of the Americans skirmished with the advanced
party of the British, to afford time for removing the stores
and baggage, and withdrawing over the bridge.
In a little time the British had possession of one half of
the town, general Washington of the other ; and the creek
only separated the two armies. Nothing could be a more
critical situation than this, and if ever the fate of America de
pended upon the event of a day, it was now. The Delaware
was filling fast with large sheets of driving ice, and was im
passable ; of course no retreat into Pennsylvania could be
effected, neither is it possible, in the face of an enemy, to
pass a river of such extent. The roads were broken and
rugged with the frost, and the main road was occupied by
the enemy.
About four o'clock a party of the British approached the
bridge, with a design to gain it, but were repulsed. They
made no more attempts, though the creek itself is passable
any where between the bridge and the Delaware. It runs in
a rugged, natural made ditch, over which a person may pass
with little difficulty, the stream being rapid and shallow.
Evening was now coming on, and the British, believing they
had all the advantages they could wish for, and that they
could use them when they pleased, discontinued all further
operations, and held themselves prepared to make the attack
next morning.
But the next morning produced a scene as elegant as it
was unexpected. The British were under arms and ready to
march to action, when one of their light-horse from Princeton
came furiously down the street, with an account that general
Washington had that morning attacked and carried the Brit
ish post at that place, and was proceeding on to seize the

i7"-j LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 85
magazine at Brunswick ; on which the British, who were then
on the point of making an assault on the evacuated camp of
the Americans, wheeled about, and in a fit of consternation
marched for Princeton.
This retreat is one of those extraordinary circumstances,
that in future ages may probably pass for fable. For it will
with difficulty be believed, that two armies, on which such
important consequences depended, should be crowded into
so small a space as Trenton ; and that the one, on the eve of
an engagement, when every ear is supposed to be open, and
every degree of watchfulness employed, should move com
pletely from the ground, with all its stores, baggage and
artillery, unknown and even unsuspected by the other. And
so entirely were the British deceived, that when they heard
the report of the cannon and small arms at Princeton, they
supposed it to be thunder, though in the depth of winter.
General Washington, the better to cover and disguise his
retreat from Trenton, had ordered a line of fires to be lighted
up in front of his camp. These not only served to give an
appearance of going to rest, and continuing that deception,
but they effectually concealed from the British whatever was
acting behind them, for flame can no more be seen through
than a wall, and in this situation, it may with propriety be
said, they became a pillar of fire to one army, and a pillar of
cloud to the other. After this, by a circuitous march of
about eighteen miles, the Americans reached Princeton early
in the morning.
The number of prisoners taken were between two and three
hundred, with which general Washington immediately set off.
The van of the British army from Trenton entered Princeton
about an hour after the Americans had left it, who, continuing
their march for the remainder of the day, arrived in the
evening at a convenient situation, wide of the main road to
Brunswick, and about sixteen miles distant from Princeton.
But so wearied and exhausted were they, with the continual
and unabated service and fatigue of two days and a night,
from action to action, without shelter, and almost without
refreshment, that the bare and frozen ground, with no other

86 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
covering than the sky, became to them a place of comfort
able rest. By these two events, and with but a little com
parative force to accomplish them, the Americans closed with
advantage a campaign, which, but a few days before, threat
ened the country with destruction. The British army, appre
hensive for the safety of their magazines at Brunswick,
eighteen miles distant, marched immediately for that place,
where they arrived late in the evening, and from which they
made no attempts to move, for nearly five months.
Having thus stated the principal outlines of these two
most interesting actions, I shall now quit them, to put the
abbe right in his mis-stated account of the debt and paper
money of America, wherein, speaking of these matters, he
says :
" These ideal riches were rejected. The more the multiplica
tion of them was urged by want, the greater did their depreciation
grow. The congress was indignant at the affront given to its
money, and declared all those to be traitors to their country, who
should not receive it as they would have received gold itself.
" Did not this body know, that prepossessions are no more to be
controlled than feelings are ? Did it not perceive that, in the present
crisis, every rational man would be afraid of exposing his fortune ?
Did it not see, that at the beginning of a republic, it permitted to
itself the exercise of such acts of despotism as are unknown even
in the countries which are moulded to, and become familiar with,
servitude and oppression ? Could it pretend that it did not punish
a want of confidence with the pains which would have been
scarcely merited by revolt and treason ? Of all this was the con
gress well aware. But it had no choice of means. Its despised
and despicable scraps of paper were actually thirty times below
their original value, when more of them were ordered to be made.
On the 13th of September, 1779, there was of this paper among
the public, to the amount of 35,544,155/. The state owed more
over 8,385,356/. without reckoning the particular debts of single
provinces." In the above recited passages, the abbe speaks as if the
United States had contracted a debt of upwards of forty

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 87
million pounds sterling, besides the debts of the individual
states. After which, speaking of foreign trade with America,
he says, that " those countries in Europe, which are truly
commercial ones, knowing that North-America had been
reduced to contract debts, at the epoch even of her greatest
prosperity, wisely thought that, in her present distress, she
would be able to pay but very little, for what might be car
ried to her."
I know it must be extremely difficult to make foreigners
understand the nature and circumstances of our paper
money, because there are natives, who do not understand it
themselves. But with us its fate is now determined. Com
mon consent has consigned it to rest with that kind of
regard, which the long service of inanimate things insensibly
obtains from mankind. Every stone in the bridge, that has
carried us over, seems to have a claim upon our esteem.
But this was a corner stone, and its usefulness cannot be
forgotten. There is something in a grateful mind, which
extends itself even to things that can neither be benefited
by regard, nor suffer by neglect : but so it is ; and almost
every man is sensible of the effect.
But to return. The paper money, though issued from
congress under the name of dollars, did not come from that
body always at that value. Those which were issued the
first year, were equal to gold and silver. The second year
less, the third still less, and so on, for nearly the space of
five years : at the end of which, I imagine, that the whole
value, at which congress might pay away the several emis
sions, taking them together, was about ten or twelve million
pounds sterling.
Now as it would have taken ten or twelve millions sterling
of taxes to carry on the war for five years, and, as while this
money was issuing, and likewise depreciating down to noth
ing, there were none, or few valuable taxes paid ; conse
quently the event to the public was the same, whether they
sunk ten or twelve millions of expended money, by depreci
ation, or paid ten or twelve millions by taxation ; for as they
did not do both, and chose to do one, the matter which, in a

88 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
general view, was indifferent.1 And therefore, what the abbe
supposes to be a debt, has now no existence ; it having been
paid, by every body consenting .to reduce, at his own ex
pense, from the value of the bills continually passing among
themselves, a sum, equal, nearly, to what the expense of
the war was for five years.
Again. The paper money having now ceased, and the
depreciation with it, and gold and silver supplied its place,
the war will now be carried on by taxation, which will draw
from the public a considerable less sum than what the depre
ciation drew ; but as while they pay the former, they do not
suffer the latter, and as when they suffered the latter, they
did not pay the former, the thing will be nearly equal, with
this moral advantage, that taxation occasions frugality and
thought, and depreciation produced dissipation and careless
ness. And again. If a man's portion of taxes comes to less than
what he lost by the depreciation, it proves that the altera
tion is in his favour. If it comes to more, and he is justly
assessed, it shows that he did not sustain his proper share of
depreciation, because the one was as operatively his tax as
the other.
It is true, that it never was intended, neither was it fore
seen, that the debt contained in the paper currency should
sink itself in this manner ; but as, by the voluntary conduct
of all and of every one, it has arrived at this fate, the debt
is paid by those who owed it. Perhaps nothing was ever so
universally the act of a country as this. Government had
no hand in it. Every man depreciated his own money by
his own consent, for such was the effect, which the raising
the nominal value of goods produced. But as by such
reduction he sustained a loss equal to what he must have
paid to sink it by taxation, therefore the line of justice is to
1 It was, however, remarked by a contemporary writer, that "if the currency
is sunk by taxation it is done in equal proportion, but if by depreciation the
burden is unequal." That is, the " Tories," who distrusted the paper money,
and possessed little of it, had an advantage over the patriots (Whigs) who had
much. — Editor.

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 89

consider his loss by the depreciation as his tax for that time,
and not to tax him when the war is over, to make that
money good in any other person's hands, which became
nothing in his own.
Again. The paper currency was issued for the express
purpose of carrying on the war. It has performed that ser
vice, without any other material charge to the public, while
it lasted. But to suppose, as some did, that, at the end of
the war, it was to grow into gold or silver, or become equal
thereto, was to suppose that we were to get two hundred
millions of dollars by going to war, instead of paying the cost
of carrying it on.
But if any thing in the situation of America, as to her
currency or her circumstances, yet remains not understood,
then let it be remembered, that this war is the public's war,
— the country's war. It is their independence that is to be
supported ; their property that is to be secured ; their coun
try that is to be saved. Here, government, the army, and
the people, are mutually and reciprocally one. In other
wars, kings may lose their thrones, and their dominions ;
but here, the loss must fall on the majesty of the multitude,
and the property they are contending to save. Every man
being sensible of this, he goes to the field, or pays his portion
of the charge, as the sovereign of his own possessions ; and
when he is conquered a monarch falls.
The remark, which the abbe in the conclusion of the pas
sage has made, respecting America's contracting debts in
the time of her prosperity, (by which he means, before the
breaking out of hostilities,) serves to show, though he has
not made the application, the very great commercial differ
ence between a dependant and an independent country. In
a state of dependance, and with a fettered commerce, though
with all the advantages of peace, her trade could not balance
itself, and she annually run into debt. But now, in a state
of independence, though involved in war, she requires no
credit : her stores are full of merchandize, and gold and
silver are become the currency of the country. How these
things have established themselves is difficult to account

90 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
for : but they are facts, and facts are more powerful than
arguments. As it is probable this letter will undergo a re-publication in
Europe, the remarks here thrown together will serve to show
the extreme folly of Britain in resting her hopes of success
on the extinction of our paper currency. The expectation
is at once so childish and forlorn, that it places her in the
laughable condition of a famished lion watching for prey at
a spider's web.
From this account of the currency, the abbe proceeds to
state the condition of America in the winter of 1777, and the
spring following ; and closes his observations with mention
ing the treaty of alliance, which was signed in France, and
the propositions of the British ministry, which were rejected
in America. But in the manner in which the abbe has
arranged his facts, there is a very material error, that not
only he, but other European historians have fallen into;
none of them having assigned the true cause why the British
proposals were rejected, and all of them have assigned a
wrong one.
In the winter of 1778, and spring following, congress
were assembled at York Town, in Pennsylvania, the British
were in possession of Philadelphia, and general Washington
with the army were encamped in huts at the Valley-Forge,
twenty-five miles distant therefrom. To all, who can remem
ber, it was a season of hardship, but not despair ; and the
abbe, speaking of this period and its inconveniences, says:
" A multitude of privations, added to so many other misfortunes,
might make the Americans regret their former tranquillity, and in
cline them to an accommodation with England. In vain had the
people been bound to the new government by the sacredness of
oaths and the influence of religion. In vain had endeavours been
used to convince them that it was impossible to treat safely with
a country, in which one parliament might overturn what should
have been established by another. In vain had they been threat
ened with the eternal resentment of an exasperated and vindictive
enemy. It was possible that these distant troubles might not be
balanced by the weight of present evils.

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 91
" So thought the British ministry, when they sent to the new
world public agents, authorised to offer every thing except inde
pendence to these very Americans, from whom they had two years
before exacted an unconditional submission. It is not improbable
but, that by this plan of conciliation, a few months sooner, some
effect might have been produced. But at the period, at which it
was proposed by the court of London, it was rejected with disdain,
because this measure appeared but as an argument of fear and
weakness. The people were already reassured. The congress, the
generals, the troops, the bold and skilful men, in each colony had
possessed themselves of the authority ; every thing had recovered
its first spirit. This was the effect of a treaty of friendship and com
merce between the United States and the court of Versailles, signed
the 6th of February, 1778."
On this passage of the abbe's I cannot help remarking,
that, to unite time with circumstance, is a material nicety in
history ; the want of which frequently throws it into endless
confusion and mistake, occasions a total separation between
causes and consequences and connects them with others they
are riot immediately, and sometimes not at all, related to.
The abbe, in saying that the offers of the British ministry
" were rejected with disdain," is right, as to the fact, but
wrong as to the time ; and this error in the time, has occa
sioned him to be mistaken in the cause.
The signing the treaty of Paris the 6th of February, 1778,
could have no effect on the mind or politics of America, until
it was known in America : and therefore, when the abbe says,
that the rejection of the British offers was in consequence of
the alliance, he must mean, that it was in consequence of the
alliance being known in America ; which was not the case :
and by this mistake he not only takes from her the reputa
tion, which her unshaken fortitude in that trying situation
deserves, but is likewise led very injuriously to suppose, that
had she not known of the treaty, the offers would probably
have been accepted ; whereas she knew nothing of the treaty
at the time of the rejection, and consequently did not reject
them on that ground.
The propositions or offers above mentioned, were contained

92 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
in two bills brought into the British parliament by lord North,
on the 17th of February, 1778. Those bills were hurried
through both houses with unusual haste, and before they
had gone through all the customary forms of parliament,
copies of them were sent over to lord Howe and general
Howe, then in Philadelphia, who were likewise commission
ers. General Howe ordered them to be printed in Phila
delphia, and sent copies of them by a flag to general
Washington, to be forwarded to congress at York Town,
where they arrived the 21st of April, 1778. Thus much for
the arrival of the bills in America.
Congress, as is their usual mode, appointed a committee
from their own body, to examine them and report thereon.
The report was brought in the next day, (the twenty-second,)
was read, and unanimously agreed to, entered on their jour
nals, and published for the information of the country. Now
this report must be the rejection to which the abbe alludes,
because congress gave no other formal opinion on those bills
and propositions : and on a subsequent application from the
British commissioners, dated the 27th of May, and received
at York Town [Pa.] the 6th of June, congress immediately
referred them for an answer, to their printed resolves of the
22d of April. Thus much for the rejection of the offers.
On the 2d of May, that is, eleven days after the above re
jection was made, the treaty between the United States and
France arrived at Yorktown ; and until this moment congress
had not the least notice or idea, that such a measure was in
any train of execution. But lest this declaration of mine
should pass only for assertion, I shall support it by proof, for it
is material to the character and principle of the revolution to
show, that no condition of America, since the declaration of
independence, however trying and severe, ever operated to
produce the most distant idea of yielding it up either by
force, distress, artifice or persuasion. And this proof is the
more necessary, because it was the system of the British
ministry at this time, as well as before and since, to hold out
to the European powers that America was unfixed in her
resolutions and policy ; hoping by this artifice to lessen her

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 93
reputation in Europe, and weaken the confidence which those
powers or any of them might be inclined to place in her.
At the time these matters were transacting, I was secretary
in the foreign department of congress. All the political let
ters from the American commissioners rested in my hands,
and all that were officially written went from my office ; and
so far from congress knowing any thing of the signing the
treaty, at the time they rejected the British offers, they
had not received a line of information from their com
missioners at Paris, on any subject whatever, for upwards
of a twelve-month. Probably the loss of the port of Phila
delphia and the navigation of the Delaware, together with
the danger of the seas, covered at this time with British
cruisers, contributed to the disappointment.
One packet, it is true, arrived at Yorktown in January
preceding, which was about three months before the arrival
of the treaty ; but, strange as it may appear, every letter
had been taken out, before it was put on board the vessel
which brought it from France, and blank white paper put in
their stead.
Having thus stated the time when the proposals from the
British commissioners were first received, and likewise the
time when the treaty of alliance arrived, and shown that the
rejection of the former was eleven days prior to the arrival
of the latter, and without the least knowledge of such cir
cumstance having taken place or being about to take place ;
the rejection, therefore, must, and ought to be attributed to
the fixed, unvaried sentiments of America respecting the
enemy she is at war with, and her determination to support
her independence to the last public effort, and not to any
new circumstance which had taken place in her favor, which
at that time she did not and could not know of.
Besides, there is a vigor of determination and spirit of
defiance in the language of the rejection, (which I here sub
join,) which derive their greatest glory by appearing before
the treaty was known ; for that, which is bravery in distress,
becomes insult in prosperity: and the treaty placed
America on such a strong foundation, that had she then

94 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
known it, the answer which she gave, would have appeared
rather as an air of triumph, than as the glowing serenity of
fortitude. Upon the whole, the abbe appears to have entirely mis
taken the matter ; for instead of attributing the rejection of
the propositions to our knowledge of the treaty of alliance ;
he should have attributed the origin of them in the British
cabinet, to their knowledge of that event. And then the
reason why they were hurried over to America in the state
of bills, that is, before they were passed into acts, is easily
accounted for, which is that they might have the chance of
reaching America before any knowledge of the treaty should
arrive, which they were lucky enough to do, and there met the
fate they so richly merited. That these bills were brought into
the British parliament after the treaty with France was signed,
is proved from the dates : the treaty being on the 6th, and
the bills on the 17th of February. And that the signing the
treaty was known in parliament, when the bills were brought
in, is likewise proved by a speech of Mr. Fox, on the said
17th of February, who, in reply to lord North, informed the
house of the treaty being signed, and challenged the min
ister's knowledge of the same fact.*
* In congress, April 22d, 1788.
" The committee to whom was referred the general's letter of the 18th, con
taining a certain printed paper sent from Philadelphia, purporting to be the
draught of a bill for declaring the intentions of the parliament of Great Britain,
as to the exercise of what they are pleased to term their right of imposing taxes
within these United States : and also the draught of a bill to enable the king
of Great Britain to appoint commissioners, with powers to treat, consult, and
agree upon the means of quieting certain disorders within the said states, beg
leave to observe,
" That the said paper being industriously circulated by emissaries of the
enemy, in a partial and secret manner, the same ought to be forthwith printed
for the public information.
"The committee cannot ascertain whether the contents of the said paper
have been framed in Philadelphia, or in Great Britain, much less whether the
same are really and truly intended to be brought into the parliament of that
kingdom, or whether the said parliament will confer thereon the usual solem
nities of their laws. But are inclined to believe this will happen, for the fol
lowing reasons :
"ist. Because their general hath made divers feeble efforts to set on foot
some kind of treaty during the last winter, though, either from a mistaken idea

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 95
Though I am not surprised to see the abbe mistaken in
matters of history, acted at such a distance from his sphere
of immediate observation, yet I am more than surprised to
find him wrong (or at least what appears so to me) in the
of his own dignity and importance, the want of information, or some other
cause, he hath not made application to those who are invested with a proper
authority. " 2d, Because they suppose that the fallacious idea of a cessation of hostilities
will render these states remiss in their preparations for war.
"3d, Because believing the Americans wearied with war, they suppose we
will accede to their terms for the sake of peace.
"4th, Because they suppose our negotiations may be subject to a like cor
rupt influence with their debates.
"5th, Because they expect from this step the same effects they did from
what one of their ministers thought proper to call his conciliatory motion, viz.,
that it will prevent foreign powers from giving aid to these states ; that it will
lead their own subjects to continue a little longer the present war : and that
it will detach some weak men in America, from the cause of freedom and
virtue. "6th, Because their king, from his own showing, hath reason to appre
hend that his fleets and armies, instead of being employed against the territo
ries of these states, will be necessary for the defence of his own dominions.
And, "7th, Because the impracticability of subjugating this country being every
day more and more manifest, it is their interest to extricate themselves from
the war upon any terms.
" The committee beg leave further to observe, that upon a supposition the
matters contained in the said paper will really go into the British statute books,
they serve to show, in a clear point of view, the weakness and wickedness of
the enemy.
" Their weakness.
" 1st, Because they formerly declared, not only that they had a right to bind
the inhabitants of these states in all cases whatsoever, but also that the said in
habitants should absolutely and unconditionally submit to the exercise of that
right. And this submission they have endeavored to exact by the sword. Re
ceding from this claim, therefore, under the present circumstances, shows their
inability to enforce it.
" 2d, Because their prince hath heretofore rejected the humblest petitions
of the representatives of America, praying to be considered as subjects, and
protected in the enjoyment of peace, liberty and safety : and hath waged a
most cruel war against them, and employed the savages to butcher innocent
women and children. But now the same prince pretends to treat with those
very representatives, and grant to the arms of America what he refused to her
prayers. "3d, Because they have uniformly labored to conquer this continent, reject
ing every idea of accommodation proposed to them, from a confidence in their

96 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
well enlightened field of philosophical reflection. Here the
materials are his own ; created by himself ; and the error,
therefore, is an act of the mind.
Hitherto my remarks have been confined to circumstance ;
own strength. Wherefore it is evident, from the change in their mode of at
tack, that they have lost this confidence. And,
"4th, Because the constant language, spoken, not only by their ministers,
but by the most public and authentic acts of the nation, hath been, that it is
incompatible with their dignity to treat with the Americans while they have
arms in their hands. Notwithstanding which, an offer is now about to be made
for treaty.
" The wickedness and insincerity of the enemy appear from the following
considerations :
"ist, Either the bills now to be passed contain a direct or indirect cession
of a part of their former claims, or they do not. If they do, then it is ac
knowledged that they have sacrificed many brave men in an unjust quarrel.
If they do not, then they are calculated to deceive America into terms, to
which neither argument before the war, nor force since, could procure her
assent. "2d, The first of these bills appears, from the title, to be a declaration of the
intentions of the British parliament concerning the exercise of the right of im
posing taxes within these states. Wherefore, should these states treat under the
said bill, they would indirectly acknowledge that right, to obtain which ac
knowledgment the present war hath been avowedly undertaken and prosecuted
on the part of Great Britain.
' ' 3d, Should such pretended right be so acquiesced in, then, of consequence
the same right might be exercised whenever the British parliament should find
themselves in a different temper and disposition ,- since it must depend upon
those, and such like contingencies, how far men will act according to their
former intentions.
"4th, The said first bill, in the body thereof, containeth no new matter, but
is precisely the same with the motion before-mentioned, and liable to all the
objections which lay against the said motion, excepting the following particular,
viz., that by the motion actual taxation was to be suspended, so long as America
should give as much as the said parliament might think proper : whereas, by
the proposed bill, it is to be suspended, as long as future parliaments continue of
the same mind with the present.
"5th, From the second bill it appears, that the British king may, if he
pleases, appoint commissioners to treat and agree with those, whom they please,
about a variety of things therein mentioned. But such treaties and agreements
are to be of no validity without the concurrence of the said parliament, except
so far as they relate to the suspension of hostilities, and of certain of their acts,
the granting of pardons, and the appointing of governors to these sovereign,
free and independent states. Wherefore, the said parliament have reserved to
themselves, in express words, the power of setting aside any such treaty, and

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 97
the order in which they arose, and the events they produced.
In these, my information being better than the abbe's, my
task was easy. How I may succeed in controverting matters
of sentiment and opinion, with one whom years, experience,
taking the advantage of any circumstances which may arise to subject this con
tinent to their usurpations.
"6th, The said bill, by holding forth a tender of pardon, implies a crimi
nality in our justifiable resistance, and consequently, to treat under it would be
an implied acknowledgment, that the inhabitants of these states were what
Britain has declared them to be, Rebels.
" 7th, The inhabitants of these states being claimed by them as subjects,
they may infer, from the nature of the negotiation now pretended to be set on
foot, that the said inhabitants would of right be afterwards bound by such laws
as they should make. Wherefore, any agreement entered into on such nego
tiation might at any future time be repealed. And,
"8th, Because the said bill purports, that the commissioners therein men
tioned may treat with private individuals : a measure highly derogatory to the
dignity of national character.
" From all which it appears evident to your committee, that the said bills are
intended to operate upon the hopes and fears of the good people of these states,
so as to create divisions among them, and a defection from the common cause,
now by the blessing of divine providence drawing near to a favorable issue.
That they are the sequel of that insidious plan, which from the days of the
stamp act down to the present time, hath involved this country in contention
and bloodshed. And that, as in other cases so in this, although circumstances
may force them at times to recede from their unjustifiable claims, there can be
no doubt but they will as heretofore, upon the first favorable occasion, again
display that lust of domination, which hath rent in twain the mighty empire of
Britain. " Upon the whole matter, the committee beg leave to report it as their
opinion, that as the Americans united in this arduous contest upon principles
of common interest, for the defence of common rights and privileges, which
union hath been cemented by common calamities and by mutual good offices
and affection, so the great cause for which they contend, and in which all man
kind are interested, must derive its success from the continuance of that union.
Wherefore, any man, or body of men, who should presume to make any sepa
rate or partial convention or agreement with commissioners under the crown of
Great Britain, or any of them, ought to be considered and treated as open and
avowed enemies of the United States.
"And further your committee beg leave to report it as their opinion, that
these United States cannot with propriety, hold any conference or treaty with
any commissioners on the part of Great Britain, unless they shall, as a prelim
inary thereto, either withdraw their fleets and armies, or else, in positive and
express terms, acknowledge the independence of the said states.
"And inasmuch as it appears to be the design of the enemies of these states
vol. 2. — 7

98 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
and long established reputation have placed in a superior
line, I am less confident in ; but as they fall within the
scope of my observations it would be improper to pass
them over.
From this part of the abbe's work to the latter end, I find
several expressions, which appear to me to start, with cynical
complexion, from the path of liberal thinking, or at least they
are so involved as to lose many of the beauties which dis
tinguish other parts of the performance.
The abbe having brought his work to the period when the
to lull them into a fatal security — to the end that they may act with becoming
weight and importance, it is the opinion of your committee, that the several
states be called upon to use the utmost strenuous exertions to have their respec
tive quotas of continental troops in the field as soon as possible, and that all
the militia of the said states be held in readiness, to act as occasion may re
quire." The following is the answer of congress to the second application of the
commissioners : " York-Town, June 6, 1778.
" Sir,
" I have had the honor of laying your letter of the 3d instant, with the acts
of the British parliament which came inclosed, before congress : and I am in
structed to acquaint you, sir, that they have already expressed their sentiments
upon bills, not essentially different from those acts, in a publication of the 22d
of April last.
" Be assured, sir, when the king of Great Britain shall be seriously disposed
to put an end to the unprovoked and cruel war waged against these United
States, congress will readily attend to such terms of peace, as may consist
with the honour of independent nations, the interest of their constituents
and the sacred regard they mean to pay to treaties. I have the honor to be,
sir, Your most obedient, and
most humble servant.
HENRY LAURENS,
President of Congress." '
His Excellency,
Sir Henry Clinton, K. B. Philadelphia. —Author.
1 These documents do not bear out, strictly, Paine's case. In the answer of
Congress, April 22, willingness is expressed to treat if the fleets and armies are
withdrawn ; but in the answer of June 6 (after the treaty with France was
known) Congress will attend only to such terms " as may consist with the honor
of independent nations," and with their " treaties." — Editor.

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 99
treaty of alliance between France and the United States
commenced, proceeds to make some remarks thereon.
"In short," says he, "philosophy, whose first sentiment is the
desire to see all governments just and all people happy, in cast
ing her eyes upon this alliance of a monarchy, with a people
who are defending their liberty, is curious to know its motive.
She sees at once, too clearly, that the happiness of mankind has no
part in it."
Whatever train of thinking or of temper the abbe might
be in, when he penned this expression, matters not. They
will neither qualify the sentiment, nor add to its defect. If
right, it needs no apology ; if wrong, it merits no excuse.
It is sent into the world as an opinion of philosophy, and
may be examined without regard to the author.
It seems to be a defect, connected with ingenuity, that it
often employs itself more in matters of curiosity, than use
fulness. Man must be the privy councillor of fate, or some
thing is not right. He must know the springs, the whys
and wherefores of everything, or he sits down unsatisfied.
Whether this be a crime, or only a caprice of humanity, I
am not inquiring into. I shall take the passage as I find it,
and place my objections against it.
It is not so properly the motives which produced the alli
ance, as the consequences which are to be produced from it,
that mark out the field of philosophical reflection. In the
one we only penetrate into the barren cave of secrecy, where
little can be known, and every thing may be misconceived ;
in the other, the mind is presented with a wide extended
prospect of vegetative good, and sees a thousand blessings
budding into existence.
But the expression, even within the compass of the abbe's
meaning, sets out with an error, because it is made to declare
that which no man has authority to declare. Who can say
that the happiness of mankind made no part of the motives
which produced the Alliance ? To be able to declare this, a
man must be possessed of the mind of all the parties con
cerned, and know that their motives were something else.

IOO THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
In proportion as the independence of America became
contemplated and understood, the local advantages of it to
the immediate actors, and the numerous benefits it promised
mankind, appeared to be every day increasing ; and we saw
not a temporary good for the present race only, but a con
tinued good to all posterity ; these motives, therefore, added
to those which preceded them, became the motives on the
part of America, which led her to propose and agree to the
treaty of alliance, as the best effectual method of extending
and securing happiness ; and therefore, with respect to us,
the abbe is wrong.
France, on the other hand, was situated very differently.
She was not acted upon by necessity to seek a friend, and
therefore her motive in becoming one, has the strongest evi
dence of being good, and that which is so, must have some
happiness for its object. With regard to herself, she saw a
train of conveniences worthy her attention. By lessening
the power of an enemy, whom at the same time she sought
neither to destroy nor distress, she gained an advantage
without doing an evil, and created to herself a new friend
by associating with a country in misfortune. The springs
of thought that lead to actions of this kind, however political
they may be, are nevertheless naturally beneficent ; for in
all causes, good or bad, it is necessary there should be a fit
ness in the mind, to enable it to act in character with the
object : therefore, as a bad cause cannot be prosecuted with
a good motive, so neither can a good cause be long supported
by a bad one ; and as no man acts without a motive, there
fore in the present instance, as they cannot be bad, they
must be admitted to be good. But the abbe sets out upon
such an extended scale, that he overlooks the degrees by
which it is measured, and rejects the beginning of good,
because the end comes not out at once.
It is true that bad motives may in some degree be brought
to support a good cause or prosecute a good object ; but it
never continues long, which is not the case with France ; for
either the object will reform the mind, or the mind corrupt
the object, or else not being able, either way, to get into

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 101
unison, they will separate in disgust : and this natural,
though unperceived progress of association or contention
between the mind and the object, is the secret cause of
fidelity or defection. Every object a man pursues, is, for
the time, a kind of mistress to his mind : if both are good or
bad, the union is natural; but if they are in reverse, and
neither can seduce nor yet reform the other, the opposition
grows into dislike, and a separation follows.
When the cause of America first made its appearance on
the stage of the universe, there were many, who, in the style
of adventurers and fortune-hunters, were dangling in its train,
and making their court to it with every profession of honour
and attachment. They were loud in its praise and ostenta
tious in its service. Every place echoed with their ardour
or their anger, and they seemed like men in love. But, alas !
they were fortune-hunters. Their expectations were excited,
but their minds were unimpressed ; and finding it not to
their purpose, nor themselves reformed by its influence, they
ceased their suit, and in some instances deserted and be
trayed it.
There were others, who at first beheld America with indif
ference, and unacquainted with her character were cautious
of her company. They treated her as one who, under the
fair name of liberty, might conceal the hideous figure of
anarchy, or the gloomy monster of tyranny. They knew
not what she was. If fair, she was fair indeed. But still she
was suspected, and though born among us appeared to be a
stranger. Accident with some, and curiosity with others, brought
on a distant acquaintance. They ventured to look at her.
They felt an inclination to speak to her. One intimacy led
to another, till the suspicion wore away, and a change of sen
timent gradually stole upon the mind ; and having no self-
interest to serve, no passion of dishonour to gratify, they
became enamoured of her innocence, and, unaltered by mis
fortune or uninfluenced by success, shared with fidelity in
the varieties of her fate.
This declaration of the abbe's, respecting motives, has led

102 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
me unintentionally into a train of metaphysical reasoning ; but
there was no other avenue by which it could so properly be ap
proached. To place presumption against presumption, asser
tion against assertion, is a mode of opposition that has no ef
fect ; and therefore the more eligible method was to show that
the declaration does not correspond with the natural progress
of the mind, and the influence it has upon our conduct. I
shall now quit this part and proceed to what I have before
stated, namely, that it is not so properly the motives
which produced the alliance, as the consequences to be
produced from it, that mark out the field of philosophical
reflection.
7~~ It is an observation I have already made in some former
publications, that the circle of civilization is yet incomplete.
Mutual wants have formed the individuals of each country
into a kind of national society, and here the progress of
civilization has stopped. For it is easy to see, that nations
with regard to each other (notwithstanding the ideal civil
law, which every one explains as it suits him) are like indi
viduals in a state of nature. They are regulated by no fixed
principle, governed by no compulsive law, and each does in
dependently what it pleases or what it can.
Were it possible we could have known the world when in
a state of barbarism, we might have concluded that it never
could be brought into the order we now see it. The untamed
mind was then as hard, if not harder, to work upon in its in
dividual state, than the national mind is in its present one.
Yet we have seen the accomplishment of the one, why then
should we doubt that of the other ?
There is a greater fitness in mankind to extend and com
plete the civilization of nations with each other at this day,
than there was to begin it with the unconnected individuals
at first ; in the same manner that it is somewhat easier to
put together the materials of a machine after they are formed,
than it was to form them from original matter. The present
condition of the world, differing so exceedingly from
what it formerly was, has given a new cast to the mind of
man, more than what he appears to be sensible of. The

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 103
wants of the individual, which first produced the idea of
society, are now augmented into the wants of the nation, and
he is obliged to seek from another country what before he
sought from the next person.
Letters, the tongue of the world, have in some measure
brought all mankind acquainted, and by an extension of
their uses are every day promoting some new friendship.
Through them distant nations become capable of conversa
tion, and losing by degrees the awkwardness of strangers,
and the moroseness of suspicion, they learn to know and
understand each other. Science, the partisan of no country,
but the beneficent patroness of all, has liberally opened a
temple where all may meet. Her influence on the mind,
like the sun on the chilled earth, has long been preparing it
for higher cultivation and further improvement. The philos
opher of one country sees not an enemy in the philosopher
of another : he takes his seat in the temple of science, and
asks not who sits beside him.
This was not the condition of the barbarian world. Then
the wants of men were few and the objects within his reach.
While he could acquire these, he lived in a state of individual
independence ; the consequence of which was, there were as
many nations as persons, each contending with the other,
to secure something which he had, or to obtain something
which he had not. The world had then no business to fol
low, no studies to exercise the mind. Their time was
divided between sloth and fatigue. Hunting and war were
their chief occupations ; sleep and food their principal
enjoyments. Now it is otherwise. A change in the mode of life has
made it necessary to be busy ; and man finds a thousand
things to do now which before he did not. Instead of pla
cing his ideas of greatness in the rude achievements of the
savage, he studies arts, sciences, agriculture and commerce,
the refinements of the gentleman, the principles of society,
and the knowledge of the philosopher.
There are many things which in themselves are neither
morally good nor bad, but they are productive of conse-

104 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
quences, which are strongly marked with one or other of
these characters. Thus commerce, though in itself a moral
nullity, has had a considerable influence in tempering the
human mind. It was the want of objects in the ancient
world, which occasioned in them such a rude and perpetual
turn for war. Their time hung on their hands without the
means of employment. The indolence they lived in afforded
leisure for mischief, and being all idle at once, and equal in
their circumstances, they were easily provoked or induced to
action. '»
But the introduction of commerce furnished the world with
objects, which, in their extent, reach every man, and give
him something to think about and something to do ; by these
his attention is mechanically drawn from the pursuits which
a state of indolence and an unemployed mind occasioned,
and he trades with the same countries, which in former ages,
tempted by their productions, and too indolent to purchase
them, he would have gone to war with.
Thus, as I have already observed, the condition of the
world being materially changed by the influence of science
and commerce, it is put into a fitness not only to admit of,
but to desire, an extension of civilization. The principal and
almost only remaining enemy, it now has to encounter, is
prejudice ; for it is evidently the interest of mankind to
agree and make the best of life. The world has undergone
its divisions of empire, the several boundaries of which are
known and settled. The idea of conquering countries, like
the Greeks and Romans, does not now exist ; and experience
has exploded the notion of going to war for the sake of
profit. In short, the objects for war are exceedingly dimin
ished, and there is now left scarcely any thing to quarrel
about, but what arises from that demon of society, prejudice,
and the consequent sullenness and untractableness of the
temper. There is something exceedingly curious in the constitution
and operation of prejudice. It has the singular ability of ac
commodating itself to all the possible varieties of the human
mind. Some passions and vices are but thinly scattered

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RA YNAL. 105
among mankind, and find only here and there a fitness of re
ception. But prejudice, like the spider, makes every place
its home. It has neither taste nor choice of situation, and
all that it requires is room. Every where, except in fire or
water, a spider will live. So, let the mind be as naked as the
walls of an empty and forsaken tenement, gloomy as a dun
geon, or ornamented with the richest abilities of thinking,
let it be hot, cold, dark or light, lonely or inhabited, still
prejudice, if undisturbed, will fill it with cobwebs, and live,
like the spider, where there seems nothing to live on. If the
one prepares her food by poisoning it to her palate and her
use, the other does the same ; and as several of our passions
are strongly characterized by the animal world, prejudice
may be denominated the spider of the mind.
Perhaps no two events ever united so intimately and
forcibly to combat and expel prejudice, as the revolution of
America and the alliance with France. Their effects are felt,
and their influence already extends as well to the old world
as the new. Our style and manner of thinking have under
gone a revolution, more extraordinary than the political
revolution of the country. We see with other eyes ; we hear
with other ears ; and think with other thoughts, than those
we formerly used. We can look back on our own prejudices,
as if they had been the prejudices of other people. We now
see and know they were prejudices and nothing else ; and,
relieved from their shackles, enjoy a freedom of mind, we
felt not before. It was not all the argument, however power
ful, nor all the reasoning, however eloquent, that could have
produced this change, so necessary to the extension of the
mind, and the cordiality of the world, without the two
circumstances of the revolution and the alliance.
Had America dropped quietly from Britain, no material
change in sentiment had taken place. The same notions,
prejudices, and conceits would have governed in both coun
tries, as governed them before, and, still the .slaves of error
and education, they would have travelled on in the beaten
track of vulgar and habitual thinking. But brought about
by the means it has been, both with regard to ourselves, to

106 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
France and England, every corner of the mind is swept of
its cobwebs, poison and dust, and made fit for the reception
of generous happiness.
Perhaps there never was an alliance on a broader basis, than
that between America and France, and the progress of it is
worth attending to. The countries had been enemies, not
properly of themselves, but through the medium of England.
They originally had no quarrel with each other, nor any cause
for one, but what arose from the interest of England, and her
arming America against France. At the same' time, the
Americans at a distance from, and unacquainted with, the
world, and tutored in all the prejudices which governed those
who governed them, conceived it their duty to act as they
were taught. In doing this, they expended their substance
to make conquests, not for themselves but for their masters,
who in return treated them as slaves.
A long succession of insolent severity, and the separation
finally occasioned by the commencement of hostilities at
Lexington, on the 19th of April, 1775, naturally produced
a new disposition of thinking. As the mind closed itself
towards England, it opened itself towards the world, and
our prejudices like our oppressions, underwent, though less
observed, a mental examination ; until we found the former
as inconsistent with reason and benevolence, as the latter
were repugnant to our civil and political rights.
While we were thus advancing by degrees into the wide
field of extended humanity, the alliance with France was
concluded. An alliance not formed for the mere purpose of
a day, but on just and generous grounds, and with equal and
mutual advantages; and the easy, affectionate manner in
which the parties have since communicated has made it an
alliance not of courts only, but of countries. There is now
an union of mind as well as of interest ; and our hearts as
well as our prosperity call on us to support it.
The people of England not having experienced this change,
had likewise no idea of it. They were hugging to their bosoms
the same prejudices we were trampling beneath our feet;
and they expected to keep a hold upon America, by that

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 107
narrowness of thinking which America disdained. What
they were proud of, we despised ; and this is a principal
cause why all their negotiations, constructed on this ground,
have failed. We are now really another people, and cannot
again go back to ignorance and prejudice. The mind once
enlightened cannot again become dark. There is no possi
bility, neither is there any term to express the supposition
by, of the mind &«knowing any thing it already knows ; and
therefore all attempts on the part of England, fitted to the
former habit of America, and on the expectation of their
applying now, will be like persuading a seeing man to become
blind, and a sensible one to turn an idiot. The first of which
is unnatural and the other impossible.
As to the remark which the abbe makes on the one coun
try being a monarchy and the other a republic, it can have
no essential meaning. Forms of government have nothing
to do with treaties. The former are the internal police of
the countries severally ; the latter their external police
jointly : and so long as each performs its part, we have no
more right or business to know how the one or the other
conducts its domestic affairs, than we have to inquire into
the private concerns of a family.
But had the abbe reflected for a moment, he would have
seen, that courts, or the governing powers of all countries,
be their forms what they may, are relatively republics with
each other. It is the first and true principle of alliance.
Antiquity may have given precedence, and power will nat
urally create importance, but their equal right is never dis
puted. It may likewise be worthy of remarking, that a
monarchical country can suffer nothing in its popular happi
ness by an alliance with a republican one ; and republican
governments have never been destroyed by their external
connexions, but by some internal convulsion or contrivance.
France has been in alliance with the republic of Switzerland
for more than two hundred years, and still Switzerland re
tains her original form of government as entire as if she had
been allied with a republic like herself ; therefore this remark
of the abbe should go for nothing. Besides it is best man-

108 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. LI782
kind should mix. There is ever something to learn, either
of manners or principle ; and it is by a free communication,
without regard to domestic matters, that friendship is to be
extended, and prejudice destroyed all over the world.
But notwithstanding the abbe's high professions in- favor
of liberty, he appears sometimes to forget himself, or that
his theory is rather the child of his fancy than of his judg
ment : for in almost the same instant that he censures the
alliance, as not originally or sufficiently calculated for the
happiness of mankind, he, by a figure of implication, accuses
France for having acted so generously and unreservedly in
concluding it. " Why did they (says he, meaning the court
of France) tie themselves down by an inconsiderate treaty
to conditions with the congress, which they might them
selves have held in dependance by ample and regular
supplies." When an author undertakes to treat of public happiness
he ought to be certain that he does not mistake passion for
right, nor imagination for principle. Principle, like truth,
needs no contrivance. It will ever tell its own tale, and tell
it the same way. But where this is not the case, every page
must be watched, recollected, and compared like an invented
story. I am surprised at this passage of the abbe's. It means
nothing or it means ill ; and in any case it shows the great
difference between speculative and practical knowledge. A
treaty according to the abbe's language would have neither
duration nor affection : it might have lasted to the end of
the war, and then expired with it. But France, by acting in
a style superior to the little politics of narrow thinking, has
established a generous fame and won the love of a country
she was before a stranger to. She had to treat with a peo
ple who thought as nature taught them ; and, on her own
part, she wisely saw there was no present advantage to be
obtained by unequal terms, which could balance the more
lasting ones that might flow from a kind and generous be
ginning. From this part the abbe advances into the secret transac-

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 109
tions of the two cabinets of Versailles and Madrid respect
ing the independence of America ; through which I mean
not to follow him. It is a circumstance sufficiently striking
without being commented on, that the former union of
America with Britain produced a power which, in her hands,
was becoming dangerous to the world : and there is no im
probability in supposing, that had the latter known as much
of the strength of the former, before she began the quarrel,
as she has known since, that instead of attempting to reduce
her to unconditional submission, she would have proposed
to her the conquest of Mexico. But from the countries sep
arately, Spain has nothing to apprehend, though from their
union she had more to fear than any other power in Europe.
The part which I shall more particularly confine myself
to, is that wherein the abbe takes an opportunity of compli
menting the British ministry with high encomiums of ad
miration, on their rejecting the offered mediation of the
court of Madrid, in 1779.
It must be remembered that before Spain joined France
in the war, she undertook the office of a mediator, and made
proposals to the British king and ministry so exceedingly
favourable to their interest, that had they been accepted,
would have become inconvenient, if not inadmissible, to
America. These proposals were nevertheless rejected by the
British cabinet ; on which the abbe says, —
" It is in such a circumstance as this ; it is in the time when
noble pride elevates the soul superior to all terror ; when nothing
is seen more dreadful than the shame of receiving the law, and
when there is no doubt or hesitation which to choose, between
ruin and dishonour : it is then, that the greatness of a nation is
displayed. I acknowledge, however, that men, accustomed to
judge of things by the event, call great and perilous resolutions
heroism or madness, according to the good or bad success with
which they have been attended. If then, I should be asked,
what is the name which shall in years to come be given to the
firmness, which was in this moment exhibited by the English, I
shall answer that I do not know. But that which it deserves I
know. I know that the annals of the world hold out to us but

IIO THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
rarely, the august and majestic spectacle of a nation, which
chooses rather to renounce its duration than its glory."
In this paragraph the conception is lofty and the ex
pression elegant, but the colouring is too high for the
original, and the likeness fails through an excess of graces.
To fit the powers of thinking and the turn of language to
the subject, so as to bring out a clear conclusion that shall
hit the point in question and nothing else, is the true
criterion of writing. But the greater part of the abbe's
writings (if he will pardon me the remark) appear to me
uncentral and burdened with variety. They represent a
beautiful wilderness without paths ; in which the eye is
diverted by every thing without being particularly directed
to any thing ; and in which it is agreeable to be lost, and
difficult to find the way out.
Before I offer any other remark on the spirit and com
position of the above passage, I shall compare it with the
circumstance it alludes to.
The circumstance then does not deserve the encomium.
The rejection was not prompted by her fortitude but her
vanity. She did not view it as a case of despair or even of
extreme danger, and consequently the determination to re
nounce her duration rather than her glory, cannot apply to
the condition of her mind. She had then high expectations
of subjugating America, and had no other naval force
against her than France ; neither was she certain that reject
ing the mediation of Spain would combine that power with
France. New mediations might arise more favorable than
those she had refused. But if they should not, and Spain
should join, she still saw that it would only bring out her
naval force against France and Spain, which was not
wanted and could not be employed against America, and
habits of thinking had taught her to believe herself superior
to both.
But in any case to which the consequence might point,
there was nothing to impress her with the idea of renouncing
her duration. It is not the policy of Europe to suffer the

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. Ill
extinction of any power, but only to lop off or prevent its
dangerous increase. She was likewise freed by situation
from the internal and immediate horrors of invasion ; was
rolling in dissipation and looking for conquests ; and though
she suffered nothing but the expense of war, she still had a
greedy eye to magnificent reimbursement.
But if the abbe is delighted with high and striking sin
gularities of character, he might, in America, have found
ample field for encomium. Here was a people, who could
not know what part the world would take for, or against
them ; and who were venturing on an untried scheme, in
opposition to a power, against which more formidable
nations had failed. They had every thing to learn but the
principles which supported them, and every thing to procure
that was necessary for their defence. They have at times
seen themselves as low as distress could make them, without
showing the least decrease of fortitude ; and been raised
again by the most unexpected events, without discovering
an unmanly discomposure of joy. To hesitate or to despair
are conditions equally unknown in America. Her mind was
prepared for every thing ; because her original and final res
olution of succeeding or perishing included all possible cir
cumstances. The rejection of the British propositions in the year 1778,
circumstanced as America was at that time, is a far greater
instance of unshaken fortitude than the refusal of the
Spanish mediation by the court of London : and other
historians, besides the abbe, struck with the vastness of her
conduct therein, have, like himself, attributed it to a circum
stance, which was then unknown, the alliance with France.
Their error shows their idea of its greatness; because in
order to account for it, they have sought a cause suited to
its magnitude, without knowing that the cause existed in
the principles of the country.*
* Extract from " A short Review of the present Reign," in England, p. 45,
in the new Annual Register, for the year 1780.
" The commissioners, who, in consequence of lord North's conciliatory bills,
went over to America, to propose terms of peace to the colonies, were wholly

112 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. \M^
But this passionate encomium of the abbe is deservedly
subject to moral and philosophical objections. It is the
effusion of wild thinking, and has a tendency to prevent
that humanity of reflection which the criminal conduct of
Britain enjoins on her as a duty. — It is a laudanum to
courtly iniquity. — It keeps in intoxicated sleep the conscience
of a nation ; and more mischief is effected by wrapping up
guilt in splendid excuse, than by directly patronizing it.
Britain is now the only country which holds the world in
disturbance and war ; and instead of paying compliments to
the excess of her crimes, the abbe would have appeared
much more in character, had he put to her, or to her
monarch, this serious question —
Are there not miseries enough in the world, too difficult
to be encountered and too pointed to be borne, without
studying to enlarge the list and arming it with new destruc
tion ? Is life so very long that it is necessary, nay even a
duty, to shake the sand and hasten out the period of dura
tion ? Is the path so elegantly smooth, so decked on every
side and carpeted with joys, that wretchedness is wanted to
enrich it as a soil ? Go ask thine aching heart, when sorrow
from a thousand causes wounds it, go ask thy sickened self,
when every medicine fails, whether this be the case or not?
Quitting my remarks on this head, I proceed to another,
in which the abbe has let loose a vein of ill-nature, and, what
is still worse, of injustice.
After cavilling at the treaty, he goes on to characterize
the several parties combined in the war.
" Is it possible," says the abbe, " that a strict union should long
subsist amongst confederates, of characters so opposite as the
hasty, light, disdainful Frenchman, the jealous, haughty, sly, slow,
unsuccessful. The concessions which formerly would have been received with
the utmost gratitude, were rejected with disdain. Now was the time of
American pride and haughtiness. It is probable, however, that it was not
pride and haughtiness alone that dictated the resolutions of congress, but a
distrust of the sincerity of the offers of Britain, a determination not to give up
their independence, and, above all, the engagements into which they had entered
by their late treaty with France." — Author,

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 113
circumspect Spaniard, and the American, who is secretly snatch
ing a look at the mother country, and would rejoice, were they
compatible with his independence, at the disasters of his allies ? "
To draw foolish portraits of each other, is a mode of attack
and reprisal, which the greater part of mankind are fond of
indulging. The serious philosopher should be above it, more
especially in cases from which no good can arise, and mis
chief may, and where no received provocation can palliate
the offence. The abbe might have invented a difference of
character for every country in the world, and they in return
might find others for him, till in the war of wit all real
character is lost. The pleasantry of one nation or the gravity
of another may, by a little pencilling, be distorted into whim
sical features, and the painter becomes as much laughed at
as the painting.
But why did not the abbe look a little deeper, and bring
forth the excellencies of the several parties ? — Why did he
not dwell with pleasure on that greatness of character, that
superiority of heart, which has marked the conduct of France
in her conquests, and which has forced an acknowledgment
even from Britain?
There is one line, at least, (and many others might be dis
covered,) in which the confederates unite ; which is, that of
a rival eminence in their treatment of their enemies. Spain
in her conquest of Minorca and the Bahama islands, confirms
this remark. America has been invariable in her lenity from
the beginning of the war, notwithstanding the high provoca
tions she has experienced. It is England only who has been
insolent and cruel.
But why must America be charged with a crime undeserved
by her conduct, more so by her principles, and which, if a
fact, would be fatal to her honour. I mean the want of
attachment to her allies, or rejoicing in their disasters. She,
it is true, has been assiduous in showing to the world that
she was not the aggressor towards England, and that the
quarrel was not of her seeking, or, at that time, even of her
wishing. But to draw inferences from her candour, and
VOL. 2. — 8

114 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
even from her justification, to stab her character by, (and I
see nothing else from which they can be supposed to be
drawn,) is unkind and unjust.
Does her rejection of the British propositions in 1778, be
fore she knew of any alliance with France, correspond with
the abbe's description of her mind ? Does a single instance
of her conduct since that time justify it ? — But there is a still
better evidence to apply to, which is, that of all the mails
which, at different times, have been waylaid on the road, in
divers parts of America, and taken and carried into New-
York, and from which the most secret and confidential private
letters, as well as those from authority, have been published,
not one of them, I repeat it, not a single one of them, gave
countenance to such a charge.
This is not a country where men are under government
restraint in speaking ; and if there is any kind of restraint, it
arises from a fear of popular resentment. Now if nothing in
her private or public correspondence favors such a suggestion,
and if the general disposition of the country is such as to
make it unsafe for a man to show an appearance of joy at
any disaster to her ally, on what grounds, I ask, can the
accusation stand ? What company the abbe may have kept
in France, we cannot know ; but this we know, that the
account he gives does not apply to America.
Had the abbe been in America at the time the news arrived
of the disaster of the fleet under count de Grasse, in the
West Indies, he would have seen his vast mistake. Neither
do I remember any instance, except the loss of Charleston,
in which the public mind suffered more severe and pungent
concern, or underwent more agitations of hope and appre
hension as to the truth or falsehood of the report. Had the
loss been all our own, it could not have had a deeper effect ;
yet it was not one of those cases which reached to the inde
pendence of America.
In the geographical account which the abbe gives of the
thirteen states, he is so exceedingly erroneous, that to attempt
a particular refutation, would exceed the limits I have pre
scribed to myself. And as it is a matter neither political,

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 1 1 5

historical, or sentimental, and which can always be contra
dicted by the extent and natural circumstances of the
country, I shall pass it over ; with this additional remark,
that I never yet saw an European description of America
that was true, neither can any person gain a just idea of it,
but by coming to it.
Though I have already extended this letter beyond what
I at first proposed, I am, nevertheless, obliged to omit many
observations, I originally designed to have made. I wish
there had been no occasion for making any. But the wrong
ideas which the abbe's work had a tendency to excite, and
the prejudicial impressions they might make, must be an
apology for my remarks, and the freedom with which they
are made.
I observe the abbe has made a sort of epitome of a con
siderable part of the pamphlet " Common Sense," and intro
duced it in that form into his publication. But there are
other places where the abbe has borrowed freely from the
said pamphlet without acknowledging it. The difference
between society and government, with which the pamphlet
opens, is taken from it, and in some expressions almost
literally, into the abbe's work, as if originally his own ; and
through the whole of the abbe's remarks on this head, the
idea in " Common Sense " is so closely copied and pursued,
that the difference is only in words, and in the arrangement
of the thoughts, and not in the thoughts themselves.*
* Common Sense. Abbe Raynal.
" Some writers have so confounded " Care must be taken not to con-
society with government, as to leave found together society with govern-
little or no distinction between them ; ment. That they may be known dis-
whereas they are not only different, tinctly, their origin should be con-
but have different origins." sidered. "
" Society is produced by our wants " Society originates in the wants of
and governments by our wickedness ; men, government in their vices. So-
the former promotes our happiness ciety tends always to good — govern-
positively, by uniting our affections — ment ought always to tend to the
the latter negatively, by restraining repression of evil."
our vices."
In the following paragraphs there is less likeness in the language, but the ideas
in the one are evidently copied from the other.

n6

THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE.

[1782

But as it is time that I should come to the end of my
letter, I shall forbear all future observations on the abbe's
work, and take a concise view of the state of public affairs,
since the time in which that performance was published.
A mind habituated to actions of meanness and injustice,
commits them without reflection, or with a very partial one;
for on what other ground than this, can we account for the
declaration of war against the Dutch ? To gain an idea of
the politics which actuated the British ministry to this
measure, we must enter into the opinion which they, and
the English in general, had formed of the temper of the
Dutch nation ; and from thence infer what their expecta
tion of the consequences would be.
Could they have imagined that Holland would have seri
ously made a common cause with France, Spain and America,

" In order to gain a clear and just
idea of the design and end of the gov
ernment, let us suppose a small num
ber of persons, meeting in some seques
tered part of the earth, unconnected
with the rest ; they will then repre
sent the peopling of any country or
of the world. In this state of natural
liberty, society will be their first
thought. A thousand motives will
excite them thereto. The strength
of one man is so unequal to his wants,
and his mind so unfitted for perpet
ual solitude, that he is soon obliged
to seek assistance of 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, with
out accomplishing anything ; after
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 from his work,
and every different want call him a
different way. Disease, nay, even
misfortune would be death — for al-

" Man, thrown, as it were, by
chance upon the globe, surrounded
by all the evils of nature, obliged con
tinually to defend and protect his life
against the storms and tempests of
the air, against the inundations of
water, against the fire of volcanoes,
against the intemperance of frigid
and torrid zones, against the sterility
of the earth which refuses him ali
ment, or its baneful fecundity, which
makes poison spring up beneath his
feet — in short against the teeth and
claws of savage beasts, who dispute
with him his habitation and his prey,
and, attacking his person, seem re
solved to render themselves rulers of
this globe, of which he thinks him
self to be the master : man, in this
state, alone and abandoned to him
self, could do nothing for his preser
vation. It was necessary, therefore,
that he should unite himself, and as
sociate with his like, in order to
bring together their strength and in
telligence in common stock. It is by
this union that he has triumphed over
so many evils, that he has fashioned

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 117
the British ministry would never have dared to provoke
them. It would have been a madness in politics to have
done so, unless their views were to hasten on a period of
such emphatic distress, as should justify the concessions
which they saw they must one day or other make to the
world, and for which they wanted an apology to themselves.
— There is a temper in some men which seeks a pretence for
submission. Like a ship disabled in action, and unfitted to
continue it, it waits the approach of a still larger one to
strike to, and feels relief at the opportunity. Whither this is
greatness or littleness of mind, I am not inquiring into. I
should suppose it to be the latter, because it proceeds from
the want of knowing how to bear misfortune in its original
state. But the subsequent conduct of the British cabinet has
shown that this was not their plan of politics, and conse
quently their motives must be sought for in another line.
though neither might be immediately this globe to his use, restrained the
mortal, yet either of them would dis- rivers, subjugated the seas, insured
able him from living, and reduce him his subsistence, conquered a part of
to a state in which he might rather the animals in obliging them to serve
be said to perish than to die. Thus him, and driven others far from his
necessity, like a gravitating power, empire, to the depths of deserts or of
would form our newly arrived emi- woods, where their number dimin-
grants into society, the reciprocal ishes from age to age. — What a man
benefits of which would supersede alone would not have been able to ef-
and render the obligations of law feet, men have executed in concert :
and government unnecessary, while and altogether they preserve their
they remained perfectly just to each work. Such is the origin, such the
other. But as nothing but heaven is advantages, and the end of society. —
impregnable to vice, it unavoidably Government owes its birth to the ne-
happens, that in proportion as they cessity of preventing and repressing
surmount the first difficulties of emigra- the injuries which the associated in-
tion, which bound them together in a dividualshad to fear from one another.
common cause, they will begin to relax It is the sentinel who watches, in or-
in their duty and attachment to each der that the common laborers be not
other, and this remissness will point disturbed."
out the necessity of establishing some
form of government to supply the de
fect of moral virtue. " Author.
"Common Sense,'- on its publication, was at once forwarded by the French
agent in America to his government. Part of it (the attack on royalism was
omitted) was translated in vol. iv. of ' ' Affaires de l'Angleterre et de 1' Amerique. "
— Editor.

Il8 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
The truth is, that the British had formed a very humble
opinion of the Dutch nation. They looked on them as a
people who would submit to any thing ; that they might
insult them as they liked, plunder them as they pleased, and
still the Dutch dared not to be provoked.
If this be taken as the opinion of the British cabinet, the
measure is easily accounted for ; because it goes on the sup
position, that when, by a declaration of hostilities, they had
robbed the Dutch of some millions sterling, (and to rob them
was popular,) they could make peace with them again when
ever they pleased, and on almost any terms the British
ministry should propose. And no sooner was the plundering
committed, than the accommodation was set on foot and
failed. When once the mind loses the sense of its own dignity, it
loses, likewise, the ability of judging of it in another. And
the American war has thrown Britain into such a variety of
absurd situations, that, arguing from herself, she sees not in
what conduct national dignity consists in other countries.
From Holland she expected duplicity and submission, and
this mistake arose from her having acted, in a number of in
stances during the present war, the same character herself.
To be allied to, or connected with, Britain seems to be an
unsafe and impolitic situation. Holland and America are
instances of the reality of this remark. Make those coun
tries the allies of France or Spain, and Britain will court
them with civility, and treat them with respect ; make them
her own allies, and she will insult and plunder them. In the
first case, she feels some apprehensions at offending them
because they have support at hand ; in the latter, those ap
prehensions do not exist. Such, however, has hitherto been
her conduct.
Another measure which has taken place since the publica
tion of the abbe's work, and likewise since the time of my
beginning this letter, is the change in the British ministry.
What line the new cabinet will pursue respecting America,
is, at this time, unknown ; neither is it very material, unless
they are seriously disposed to a general and honourable peace.

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. I 19
Repeated experience has shown, not only the impractica
bility of conquering America, but the still higher impos
sibility of conquering her mind, or recalling her back to her
former condition of thinking. Since the commencement of
the war, which is now approaching to eight years, thousands
and tens of thousands have advanced, and are daily advan
cing into the first state of manhood, who know nothing of
Britain but as a barbarous enemy, and to whom the inde
pendence of America appears as much the natural and
established government of the country, as that of England
does to an Englishman. And, on the other hand, thousands
of the aged, who had British ideas, have dropped, and are
daily dropping, from the stage of business and life. The
natural progress of generation and decay operates every
hour to the disadvantage of Britain. Time and death, hard
enemies to contend with, fight constantly against her in
terest ; and the bills of mortality, in every part of America,
are the thermometers of her decline. The children in the
streets are from their cradle bred to consider her as their
only foe. They hear of her cruelties ; of their fathers, uncles,
and kindred killed ; they see the remains of burnt and de
stroyed houses, and the common tradition of the school
they go to, tells them, those things were done by the British.
These are circumstances which the mere English state
politician, who considers man only in a state of manhood,
does not attend to. He gets entangled with parties coeval
or equal with himself at home, and thinks not how fast the
rising generation in America is growing beyond knowledge
of them, or they of him. In a few years all personal re
membrance will be lost, and who is king or minister in
England, will be little known and scarcely inquired after.
The new British administration is composed of persons
who have ever been against the war, and who have con
stantly reprobated all the violent measures of the former
one. They considered the American war as destructive to
themselves, and opposed it on that ground. But what are
these things to America? She has nothing to do with
English parties. The ins and the outs are nothing to her.

120 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
It is the whole country she is at war with, or must be at
peace with.
Were every minister in England a Chatham, it would now
weigh little or nothing in the scale of American politics.
Death has preserved to the memory of this statesman, that
fame, which he, by living, would have lost. His plans and
opinions, towards the latter part of his life, would have been
attended with as many evil consequences, and as much
reprobated here as those of lord North ; and considering him
a wise man, they abound with inconsistencies amounting to
absurdities. It has apparently been the fault of many in the late
minority to suppose that America would agree to certain
terms with them, were they in place, which she would not
even listen to, from the then administration. This idea can
answer no other purpose than to prolong the war; and
Britain may, at the expense of many more millions, learn
the fatality of such mistakes. If the new ministry wisely
avoid this hopeless policy, they will prove themselves better
pilots and wiser men than they are conceived to be ; for it
is every day expected to see their bark strike upon some
hidden rock and go to pieces.
But there is a line in which they may be great. A more
brilliant opening needs not to present itself ; and it is such
an one as true magnanimity would improve, and humanity
rejoice in.
A total reformation is wanted in England. She wants an
expanded mind, — a heart which embraces the universe. In
stead of shutting herself up in an island, and quarrelling
with the world, she would derive more lasting happiness, and
acquire more real riches, by generously mixing with it, and
bravely saying, I am the enemy of none. It is not now a time
for little contrivances or artful politics. The European world
is too experienced to be imposed upon, and America too
wise to be duped. It must be something new and masterly
that can succeed. The idea of seducing America from her
independence, or corrupting her from her alliance, is a
thought too little for a great mind, and impossible for any

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 121
honest one, to attempt. Whenever politics are applied to
debauch mankind from their integrity, and dissolve the vir
tue of human nature, they become detestable ; and to be a
statesman on this plan, is to be a commissioned villain. He
who aims at it, leaves a vacancy in his character, which may
be filled up with the worst of epithets.
If the disposition of England should be such, as not to
agree to a general and honorable peace, and the war must,
at all events, continue longer, I cannot help wishing that the
alliances which America has or may enter into, may become
the only objects of the war. She wants an opportunity of
showing to the world that she holds her honour as dear and
sacred as her independence, and that she will in no situation
forsake those whom no negotiations could induce to forsake
her. Peace, to every reflecting mind, is a desirable object ;
but that peace which is accompanied with a ruined character,
becomes a crime to the seducer, and a curse upon the
seduced. But where is the impossibility or even the great difficulty
of England's forming a friendship with France and Spain,
and making it a national virtue to renounce for ever those
prejudiced inveteracies it has been her custom to cherish ;
and which, while they serve to sink her with an increasing
enormity of debt, by involving her in fruitless wars, become
likewise the bane of her repose, and the destruction of her
manners. We had once the fetters that she has now, but
experience has shown us the mistake, and thinking justly
has set us right.
The true idea of a great nation, is that which extends
and promotes the principles of universal society ; whose
mind rises above the atmosphere of local thoughts, and con
siders mankind, of whatever nation or profession they may
be, as the work of one Creator. The rage for conquest
has had its fashion, and its day. Why may not the amia
ble virtues have the same ? The Alexanders and Caesars
of antiquity have left behind them their monuments of
destruction, and are remembered with hatred ; whilst those
more exalted characters, who first taught society and sci-

122 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
ence, are blest with the gratitude of every age and coun
try. Of more use was one philosopher, though a heathen
to the world, than all the heathen conquerors that ever
existed. Should the present revolution be distinguished by open
ing a new system of extended civilization, it will receive
\^_Jrom heaven the highest evidence of approbation ; and as
this is a subject to which the abbe's powers are so emi
nently suited, I recommend it to his attention with the
affection of a friend, and the ardour of a universal citizen.

Postscript.

Since closing the foregoing letter, some intimations re
specting a general peace have made their way to America.
On what authority or foundation they stand, or how near
or remote such an event may be, are circumstances I am
not inquiring into. But as the subject must sooner or
later become a matter of serious attention, it may not be
improper, even at this early period, candidly to investigate
some points that are connected with it, or lead towards it.
The independence of America is at this moment as firmly
established as that of any other country in a state of war. It
is not length of time, but power that gives stability. Nations
at war, know nothing of each other on the score of antiquity.
It is their present and immediate strength, together with
their connexions, that must support them. To which we
may add, that a right which originated to-day, is as much a
right, as if it had the sanction of a thousand years ; and
therefore the independence and present governments of
America are in no more danger of being subverted, because
they are modern, than that of England is secure, because it
is ancient.The politics of Britain, so far as respects America, were
originally conceived in idiotism, and acted in madness. There
is not a step which bears the smallest trace of rationality.
In her management of the war, she has laboured to be

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 1 23
wretched, and studied to be hated ; and in all her former
propositions for accommodation, she has discovered a total
ignorance of mankind, and of those natural and unalterable
sensations by which they are so generally governed. How
she may conduct herself in the present or future business of
negotiating a peace, is yet to be proved.
He is a weak politician who does not understand human
nature, and penetrate into the effect which measures of gov
ernment will have upon the mind. All the miscarriages of
Britain have arisen from this defect. The former ministry
acted as if they supposed mankind to be without a mind ;
and the present ministry, as if America was without a mem
ory. The one must have supposed we were incapable of
feeling; and the other, that we could not remember injuries.
There is likewise another line in which politicians mistake,
which is, that of not rightly calculating, or rather of mis
judging, the consequences which any given circumstance will
produce. Nothing is more frequent, as well in common as
in political life, than to hear people complain, that such or
such means produced an event directly contrary to their in
tentions. But the fault lies in their not judging rightly what
the event would be ; for the means produced only its proper
and natural consequences.
It is very probable that, in a treaty of peace, Britain will
contend for some post or other in North-America, perhaps
Canada or Halifax, or both : and I infer this from the
known deficiency of her politics, which have ever yet made
use of means, whose natural event was against both her
interest and her expectation. But the question with her
ought to be, whether it is worth her while to hold them, and
what will be the consequences.
Respecting Canada, one or other of the two following will
take place, viz. if Canada should become populous, it will
revolt ; and if it does not become so, it will not be worth the
expense of holding. And the same may be said of Halifax,
and the country round it. But Canada never will be popu
lous • neither is there any occasion for contrivances on one
side or the other, for nature alone will do the whole.

124 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
Britain may put herself to great expenses in sending
settlers to Canada; but the descendants of those settlers
will be Americans, as others descendants have been before
them. They will look round and see the neighboring states
sovereign and free, respected abroad and trading at large
with the world ; and the natural love of liberty, the advan
tages of commerce, the blessings of independence, and of a
happier climate, and a richer soil, will draw them southward ;
and the effect will be, that Britain will sustain the expense,
and America reap the advantage.
One would think that the experience which Britain has
had of America, would entirely sicken her of all thoughts of
continental colonization, and any part she might retain will
only become to her a field of jealousy and thorns, of debate
and contention, for ever struggling for privileges, and medi
tating revolt. She may form new settlements, but they will
be for us ; they will become part of the United States of
America ; and that against all her contrivances to prevent it,
or without any endeavours of ours to promote it. In the
first place she cannot draw from them a revenue, until they
are able to pay one, and when they are so they will be above
subjection. Men soon become attached to the soil they live
upon, and incorporated with the prosperity of the place:
and it signifies but little what opinions they come over with,
for time, interest, and new connexions will render them
obsolete, and the next generation know nothing of them.
Were Britain truly wise, she would lay hold of the present
opportunity to disentangle herself from all continental em
barrassments in North-America, and that not only to avoid
future broils and troubles, but to save expenses. To speak
explicitly on the matter, I would not, were I an European
power, have Canada, under the conditions that Britain must
retain it, could it be given to me. It is one of those kind of
dominions that is, and ever will be, a constant charge upon
any foreign holder.
As to Halifax, it will become useless to England after the
present war, and the loss of the United States. A harbour,
when the dominion is gone, for the purpose of which only it

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 1 25
was wanted, can be attended only with expense. There are,
I doubt not, thousands of people in England, who suppose,
that these places are a profit to the nation, whereas they are
directly the contrary, and instead of producing any revenue,
a considerable part of the revenue of England is annually
drawn off, to support the expense of holding them.
Gibraltar is another instance of national ill-policy. A post
which in time of peace is not wanted, and in time of war is
of no use, must at all times be useless. Instead of affording
protection to a navy, it requires the aid of one to maintain
it. To suppose that Gibraltar commands the Mediterranean,
or the pass into it, or the trade of it, is to suppose a detected
falsehood ; because though Britain holds the post she has
lost the other three, and every benefit she expected from it.
And to say that all this happens because it is besieged by
land and water, is to say nothing, for this will always be the
case in time of war, while France and Spain keep up superior
fleets, and Britain holds the place. So that, though, as an
impenetrable, inaccessible rock, it may be held by the one, it
is always in the power of the other to render it useless and
excessively chargeable.
I should suppose that one of the principal objects of Spain
in besieging it, is to show to Britain, that though she may
not take it, she can command it, that is she can shut it up,
and prevent its being used as a harbour, though not as a
garrison. But the short way to reduce Gibraltar is to attack
the British fleet ; for Gibraltar is as dependant on a fleet for
support, as a bird is on its wing for food, and when wounded
there it starves.
There is another circumstance which the people of Eng
land have not only not attended to, but seem to be utterly
ignorant of, and that is, the difference between permanent
power and accidental power, considered in a national sense.
By permanent power, I mean, a natural, inherent and per
petual ability in a nation, which though always in being, may
not be always in action, or not advantageously directed ; and
by accidental power, I mean, a fortunate or accidental dispo
sition or exercise of national strength, in whole or in part.

126 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
There undoubtedly was a time when any one European
nation, with only eight or ten ships of war, equal to the
present ships of the line, could have carried terror to all
others, who had not began to build a navy, however great
their natural ability might be for that purpose : but this can
be considered only as accidental, and not as a standard to
compare permanent power by, and could last no longer than
until those powers built as many or more ships than the
former. After this a larger fleet was necessary, in order to
be superior ; and a still larger would again supersede it.
And thus mankind have gone on building fleet upon fleet,
as occasion or situation dictated. And this reduces it to an
original question, which is : Which power can build and man
the largest number of ships ? The natural answer to which
is, that power which has the largest revenue and the greatest
number of inhabitants, provided its situation of coast affords
sufficient conveniences.
France being a nation on the continent of Europe, and
Britain an island in its neighborhood, each of them derived
different ideas from their different situations. The inhabit
ants of Britain could carry on no foreign trade, nor stir from
the spot they dwelt upon, without the assistance of shipping ;
but this was not the case with France. The idea therefore
of a navy did not arise to France from the same original and
immediate necessity which produced it to England. But
the question is, that when both of them turn their attention,
and employ their revenues the same way, which can be
superior ?
The annual revenue of France is nearly double that of
England, and her number of inhabitants more than twice as
many. Each of them has the same length of coast on the
channel, besides which, France has several hundred miles
extent on the bay of Biscay, and an opening on the Mediter
ranean: and every day proves that practice and exercise
make sailors, as well as soldiers, in one country as well
as another.
If, then, Britain can maintain a hundred ships of the line,
France can as well support a hundred and fifty, because her

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 127
revenues and her population are as equal to the one, as those
of England are to the other. And the only reason why she
has not done it, is because she has not till very lately attended
to it. But when she sees, as she now does, that a navy is the
first engine of power, she can easily accomplish it.
England, very falsely, and ruinously for herself, infers, that
because she had the advantage of France, while France had
the smaller navy, that for that reason it is always to be so.
Whereas it may be clearly seen, that the strength of France
has never yet been tried on a navy, and that she is able to be
as superior to England in the extent of a navy, as she is in the
extent of her revenues and her population. And England
may lament the day, when, by her insolence and injustice,
she provoked in France a maritime disposition.
It is in the power of the combined fleets to conquer every
island in the West-Indies, and reduce all the British navy in
those places. For were France and Spain to send their whole
naval force in Europe to those islands, it would not be in the
power of Britain to follow them with an equal force. She
would still be twenty or thirty ships inferior, were she to send
every vessel she had, and in the meantime all the foreign
trade of England would lay exposed to the Dutch.
It is a maxim which, I am persuaded, will ever hold good,
and more especially in naval operations, that a great power
ought never to move in detachments, if it can possibly be
avoided ; but to go with its whole force to some important
object, the reduction of which shall have a decisive effect
upon the war. Had the whole of the French and Spanish
fleets in Europe come last spring to the West-Indies, every
island had been their own, Rodney their prisoner, and his
fleet their prize. From the United States the combined
fleets can be supplied with provisions, without the necessity
of drawing them from Europe, which is not the case with
England. Accident has thrown some advantages in the way of En
gland, which, from the inferiority of her navy, she had not a
right to expect. For though she had been obliged to fly
before the combined fleets, yet Rodney has twice had the

1

128 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
fortune to fall in with detached squadrons, to which he was
superior in numbers: the first off cape St. Vincent, where he
had nearly two to one, and the other in the West-Indies,
where he had a majority of six ships. Victories of this kind
almost produce themselves. They are won without honour,
and suffered without disgrace : and are ascribable to the
chance of meeting, not to the superiority of fighting. For
the same admiral, under whom they were obtained, was
unable, in three former engagements, to make the least
impression on a fleet consisting of an equal number of ships
with his own, and compounded for the events by declining
 the actions.*
To conclude : if it may be said that Britain has numerous
enemies, it likewise proves that she has given numerous of
fences. Insolence is sure to provoke hatred, whether in a
nation or an individual. That want of manners in the British
court may be seen even in its birth-days' and new-years' odes,
which are calculated to infatuate the vulgar, and disgust the
man of refinement : and her former overbearing rudeness,
and insufferable injustice on the seas, have made every com
mercial nation her foe. Her fleets were employed as engines
of prey, and acted on the surface of the deep the character
which the shark does beneath it. On the other hand, the
combined powers are taking a popular part, and will render
their reputation immortal, by establishing the perfect free
dom of the ocean, to which all countries have a right, and
are interested in accomplishing. The sea is the world's
highway ; and he who arrogates a prerogative over it,
transgresses the right, and justly bring on himself the
chastisement of nations.1
Perhaps it might be of some service to the future tran
quillity of mankind, were an article introduced into the next
general peace, that no one nation should, in time of peace,
* See the accounts, either English or French,' of three actions, in the West
Indies, between count de Guichen and admiral Rodney, in 1780. — Author.
1 Doctor Franklin made an effort to secure recognition of this principle of the
freedom and immunity of commerce at sea, and gained the assent of the King
of Prussia and of Vergennes. See ' ' Diary of John Hall, " in my " Life of Paine,"
vol. ii., p. 468. — Editor.

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 129

exceed a certain number of ships of war. Something of this
kind seems necessary ; for according to the present fashion,
half the world will get upon the water, and there appears to
be no end to the extent to which navies may be carried. An
other reason is, that navies add nothing to the manners or
morals of a people. The sequestered life which attends the
service, prevents the opportunities of society, and is too apt
to occasion a coarseness of ideas and of language, and that
more in ships of war than in the commercial employ ; because
in the latter they mix more with the world, and are nearer
related to it. I mention this remark as a general one : and
not applied to any one country more than to another.
Britain has now had the trial of above seven years, with
an expense of nearly an hundred million pounds sterling ;
and every month in which she delays to conclude a peace costs
her another million sterling, over and above her ordinary ex
penses of government, which are a million more ; so that her
total monthly expense is two million pounds sterling, which
is equal to the whole yearly expense of America, all charges
included. Judge then who is best able to continue it.1
1 The following correspondence took place at this time between Paine and
Washington. BORDENTOWN, Sept. 7, 1782.
Sir, I have the honour of presenting you with fifty copies of my Letter to the Abbe
Raynal, for the use of the army, and to repeat to you my acknowledgments for
your friendship.
I fully believe we have seen our worst days over. The spirit of the war, on
the part of the enemy, is certainly on the decline, full as much as we think for.
I draw this opinion not only from the present promising appearance of things,
and the difficulties we know the British cabinet is in ; but I add to it the pecu
liar effect which certain periods of time have, more or less, upon all men.
The British have accustomed themselves to think of seven years in a manner
different to other portions of time. They acquire this partly by habit, by
reason, by religion, and by superstition. They serve seven years apprenticeship
— they elect their parliament for seven years — they punish by seven years trans
portation, or the duplicate or triplicate of that term — they let their leases in the
same manner, and they read that Jacob served seven years for one wife, and after
that seven years for another ; and this particular period of time, by a variety of
concurrences, has obtained an influence in their minds.
They have now had seven years of war, and are no further on the Continent
than when they began. The superstitious and populous part will therefore con-

130 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1782
She has likewise many atonements to make to an injured
world, as well in one quarter as in another. And instead of
pursuing that temper of arrogance, which serves only to sink
her in the esteem, and entail on her the dislike of all nations,
elude that ii is not to be, and the rational part of them will think they have tried
an unsuccessful and expensive project long enough, and by these two joining
issue in the same eventual opinion, the obstinate part among them will be beaten
out ; unless, consistent with their former sagacity, they should get over the
matter by an act of parliament, " to bind titas. in all cases whatsoever," or declare
him a rebel.
I observe the affair of Captain Asgill seems to die away : — very probably it
has been protracted on the part of Clinton and Carleton, to gain time, to state
the case to the British ministry, where following close on that of Colonel Haynes,
it will create new embarrassments to them. — For my own part, I am fully per
suaded that a suspension of his fate, still holding it in tcrrorem, will operate on
a greater quantity of their passions and vices, and restrain them more than his
execution would do. — However, the change of measures which seems now to be
taking place, gives somewhat of a new cast to former designs ; and if the case,
without the execution, can be so managed as to answer all the purposes of the
latter, it will look much better hereafter, when the sensations that now provoke,
and the circumstances that would justify his exit, shall be forgotten.
I am your Excellency's obliged and obedient humble servant,
Thomas Paine,
His Excellency General Washington.

Head Quarters, Verplanck's Point,
Sept. 18, 1782.
Sir, I have the pleasure to acknowledge your favour of the 7th inst. , informing me
of your proposal to present me with fifty copies of your last publication, for the
amusement of the army.
For this intention you have my sincere thanks, not only on my own account,
but for the pleasure, I doubt not, the gentlemen of the army will receive from
the perusal of your pamphlets.
Your observations on the period of seven years, as it applies itself to, and
affects British minds, are ingenious, and I wish it may not fail of its effects in
the present instance. The measures, and the policy of the enemy, are at present
in great perplexity and embarrassment — but I have my fears, whether their
necessities (which are the only operative motive with them) are yet arrived to
that point, which must drive them unavoidably into what they will esteem dis
agreeable and dishonourable terms of peace — such, for instance, as an absolute,
unequivocal admission of American Independence, upon the terms on which she
can alone accept it.
For this reason, added to the obstinacy of the king — and the probable con
sonant principles of some of his principal ministers, I have not so full a conft-

1782] LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL. 131
she would do well to reform her manners, retrench her ex
penses, live peaceably with her neighbours, and think of war
no more.
Philadelphia, August 21, 1782.
dence in the success of the present negociation for peace as some gentlemen
entertain. Should events prove my jealousies to be ill founded, I shall make myself
happy under the mistake — consoling myself with the idea of having erred on the
safest side, and enjoying with as much satisfaction as any of my countrymen, the
pleasing issue of our severe contest.
The case of Captain Asgill has indeed been spun out to a great length — but,
with you, I hope that its termination will not be unfavourable to this country.1
I am, sir, with great esteem and regard, Your most obedient servant,
G. Washington.
Thomas Paine, Esq.
1 Concerning Captain Asgill see ante, the "Supernumerary Crisis," vol. i.,
p. 355 and footnote to same, p. 359.— Editor.

VI.
DISSERTATIONS
ON GOVERNMENT; THE AFFAIRS OF THE BANK; AND
PAPER MONEY.

PREFACE.

I HERE present the public with a new performance. Some
parts of it are more particularly adapted to the state of
Pennsylvania, on the present state of its affairs: but there
are others which are on a larger scale. The time bestowed
on this work has not been long, the whole of it being written
and printed during the short recess of the assembly.1
As to parties, merely considered as such, I am attached to
no particular one. There are such things as right and wrong
in the world, and so far as these are parties against each
other, the signature of Common Sense is properly employed.
Thomas Paine.
Philadelphia, Feb. 18, 1786.
1 That is, between December 22, 1785, and February 18, 1786. Professor
W. G. Sumner, in his work on Robert Morris, says that Paine was " hired" by
Morris for this work ; but after re-examining his papers, writes me that his
statement goes beyond any evidence in his possession. The pamphlet was
disinterested and courageous ; it cost Paine valued friendships. See my " Life
of Paine," ii., 466. — Editor. 132

DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC.
EVERY government, let its form be what it may, contains
within itself a principle common to all, which is, that of a
sovereign power, or a power over which there is no control,
and which controls all others: and as it is impossible to
construct a form of government in which this power does not
exist, so there must of necessity be a place, if it may be so
called, for it to exist in.
In despotic monarchies this power is lodged in a single
person, or sovereign. His will is law ; which he declares,
alters or revokes as he pleases, without being accountable to
any power for so doing. Therefore, the only modes of re
dress, in countries so governed, are by petition or insurrection.
And this is the reason we so frequently hear of insurrections
in despotic governments ; for as there are but two modes of
redress, this is one of them.
Perhaps it may be said that as the united ressistance of the
people is able, by force, to control the will of the sovereign,
that therefore, the controlling power lodges in them ; but it
must be understood that I am speaking of such powers only
as are constituent parts of the government, not of those
powers which are externally applied to resist and overturn it.
In republics, such as those established in America, the
sovereign power, or the power over which there is no control,
and which controls all others, remains where nature placed
it — in the people ; for the people in America are the fountain
of power. It remains there as a matter of right, recognized
in the constitutions of the country, and the exercise of it is
constitutional and legal. This sovereignty is exercised in
electing and deputing a certain number of persons to repre
sent and act for the whole, and who, if they do not act right,
133

134 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
may be displaced by the same power that placed them there,
and others elected and deputed in their stead, and the wrong
measures of former representatives corrected and brought
right by this means. Therefore the republican form and
principle leaves no room for insurrection, because it provides
and establishes a rightful means in its stead.
In countries under a despotic form of government, the
exercise of this power is an assumption of sovereignty ; a
wresting it from the person in whose hand their form of gov
ernment has placed it, and the exercise of it is there styled
rebellion. Therefore the despotic form of government knows
no intermediate space between being slaves and being rebels.
I shall in this place offer an observation which, though not
immediately connected with my subject, is very naturally
deduced from it, which is that the nature, if I may so call it,
of a government over any people, may be ascertained from
the modes which the people pursue to obtain redress of
grievances ; for like causes will produce like effects. And
therefore the government which Britain attempted to erect
over America could be no other than a despotism, because
it left to the Americans no other modes of redress than those
which are left to people under despotic governments, petition
and resistance : and the Americans, without ever attending
to a comparison on the case, went into the same steps which
such people go into, because no other could be pursued : and
this similarity of effects leads up to, and ascertains the simi
larity of the causes or governments which produced them.
But to return. The repository where the sovereign power
is placed is the first criterion of distinction between a country
under a despotic form of government and a free country. In
a country under a despotic government, the sovereign is the
only free man in it. In a republic, the people, retaining the
sovereignty themselves, naturally and necessarily retain their
freedom with it : for wherever the sovereignty is, there must
the freedom be.
As the repository where the sovereign power is lodged is
the first criterion of distinction, so the second is the princi
ples on which it is administered.

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 35
A despotic government knows no principle but will. —
Whatever the sovereign wills to do, the government admits
him the inherent right, and the uncontrolled power of doing.
He is restrained by no fixed rule of right and wrong, for he
makes the right and wrong himself, and as he pleases. If
he happens (for a miracle may happen) to be a man of con
summate wisdom, justice and moderation, of a mild affection
ate disposition, disposed to business, and understanding and
promoting the general good, all the beneficial purposes of
government will be answered under his administration, and
the people so governed, may, while this is the case, be pros
perous and easy. But as there can be no security that this
disposition will last, and this administration continue, and
still less security that his successor shall have the same
qualities and pursue the same measures ; therefore no people
exercising their reason, and understanding their rights,
would, of their own choice, invest any one man with such
a power. Neither is it consistent to suppose the knowledge of any
one man competent to the exercise of such a power. A
sovereign of this sort, is brought up in such a distant line of
life ; lives so remote from the people, and from a knowledge
of everything which relates to their local situations and
interests, that he can know nothing from experience and
observation, and all which he does know he must be told.
Sovereign power without sovereign knowledge, that is, a full
knowledge of all the matters over which that power is to be
exercised, is a something which contradicts itself.
There is a species of sovereign power in a single person,
which is very proper when applied to a commander-in-chief
over an army, so far as relates to the military government
of an army, and the condition and purpose of an army con
stitute the reason why it is so. In an army every man is of
the same profession, that is, he is a soldier, and the com
mander-in-chief is a soldier too : therefore the knowledge
necessary to the exercise of the power is within himself. By
understanding what a soldier is, he comprehends the local
situation, interest and duty of every man within what may

136 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
be called the dominion of his command ; and, therefore, the
condition and circumstances of an army make a fitness for
the exercise of the power.
The purpose, likewise, or object of an army, is another
reason : for this power in a commander-in-chief, though
exercised over the army, is not exercised against it ; but is
exercised through or over the army against the enemy.
Therefore the enemy, and not the people, is the object it is
directed to. Neither is it exercised over an army for the
purpose of raising a revenue from it, but to promote its
combined interest, condense its powers, and give it capacity
for action.
But all these reasons cease when sovereign power is trans
ferred from the commander of an army to the commander of
a nation, and entirely loses its fitness when applied to govern
subjects following occupations, as it governs soldiers follow
ing arms. A nation is quite another element, and every
thing in it differs not only from each other, but all of them
differ from those of an army. A nation is composed of dis
tinct, unconnected individuals, following various trades,
employments and pursuits: continually meeting, crossing,
uniting, opposing and separating from each other, as acci
dent, interest and circumstance shall direct. An army has
but one occupation and but one interest.
Another very material matter in which an army and a
nation differ, is that of temper. An army may be said to
have but one temper ; for however the natural temper of
the persons composing the army may differ from each other,
there is a second temper takes place of the first : a temper
formed by discipline, mutuality of habits, union of objects
and pursuits, and the style of military manners : but this
can never be the case among all the individuals of a nation.
Therefore the fitness, arising from those circumstances,
which disposes an army to the command of a single person,
and the fitness of a single person for that command, is not
to be found either in one or the other, when we come to
consider them as a sovereign and a nation.
Having already shown what a despotic government is, and

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 137
how it is administered, I now come to show what the admin
istration of a republic is.
The administration of a republic is supposed to be directed
by certain fundamental principles of right and justice, from
which there cannot, because there ought not to be any de
viation ; and whenever any deviation appears, there is a kind
of stepping out of the republican principle, and an approach
towards the despotic one. This administration is executed
by a select number of persons, periodically chosen by the
people, who act as representatives and in behalf of the whole,
and who are supposed to enact the same laws, and pursue
the same line of administration, as the people would do were
they all assembled together.
The public good is to be their object. It is therefore neces
sary to understand what public good is.
Public good is not a term opposed to the good of indi
viduals ; on the contrary, it is the good of every individual
collected. It is the good of all, because it is the good of
every one : for as the public body is every individual
collected, so the public good is the collected good of those
individuals. The foundation-principle of public good is justice, and
wherever justice is impartially administered the public good
is promoted ; for as it is to the good of every man that no
injustice be done to him, so likewise it is to his good that
the principle which secures him should not be violated in the
person of another, because such a violation weakens his
security, and leaves to chance what ought to be to him a rock
to stand on.
But in order to understand more minutely, how the public
good is to be promoted, and the manner in which the repre
sentatives are to act to promote it, we must have recourse to
the original or first principles, on which the people formed
themselves into a republic.
When a people agree to form themselves into a republic
(for the word republic means the public good, or the good of
the whole, in contradistinction to the despotic form, which
makes the good of the sovereign, or of one man, the only

138 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
object of the government), when I say, they agree to do this,
it is to be understood, that they mutually resolve and pledge
themselves to each other, rich and poor alike, to support
and maintain this rule of equal justice among them. They
therefore renounce not only the despotic form, but the
despotic principle, as well of governing as of being governed
by mere will and power, and substitute in its place a govern
ment of justice.
By this mutual compact, the citizens of a republic put it
out of their power, that is, they renounce, as detestable, the
power of exercising, at any future time, any species of des
potism over each other, or doing a thing not right in itself,
because a majority of them may have strength of numbers
sufficient to accomplish it.
In this pledge and compact * lies the foundation of the
republic : and the security to the rich and the consolation to
* This pledge and compact is contained in the declaration of rights prefixed
to the constitution [of Pennsylvania], and is as follows :
I. That all men are born equally free and independent, and have certain
natural, inherent and unalienable rights, amongst which are, the enjoying and
defending life and liberty, acquiring, possessing and protecting property, and
pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety.
II. That all men have a natural and unalienable right to worship almighty
God, according to the dictates of their own consciences and understanding :
and that no man ought or of right can be compelled to attend any religious
worship, or erect or support any place of worship, or maintain any ministry,
contrary to, or against, his own free will and consent : nor can any man, who
acknowledges the being of a God, be justly deprived or abridged of any civil
right as a citizen, on account of his religious sentiments or peculiar mode of
religious worship : and that no authority can or ought to be vested in, or as
sumed by, any power whatever, that shall in any case interfere with, or in any
manner control, the right of conscience in the free exercise of religious worship.
III. That the people of this state have the sole, exclusive and inherent right
of governing and regulating the internal police of the same.
IV. That all power being originally inherent in, and consequently derived
from, the people ; therefore, all officers of government, whether legislative or
executive, are their trustees and servants, and at all times accountable to
them. V. That government is, or ought to be, instituted for the common benefit,
protection and security of the people, nation or community ; and not for the
particular emolument or advantage of any single man, family, or set of men,
who are a part only of that community : and that the community hath an in
dubitable, unalienable and indefeasible right to reform, alter or abolish govern-

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 39
the poor is, that what each man has is his own ; that no des
potic sovereign can take it from him, and that the common
cementing principle which holds all the parts of a republic
together, secures him likewise from the despotism of num
bers : for despotism may be more effectually acted by many
over a few, than by one man over all.
Therefore, in order to know how far the power of an as
sembly, or a house of representatives can act in administering
the affairs of a republic, we must examine how far the power
of the people extends under the original compact they have
made with each other ; for the power of the representatives
is in many cases less, but never can be greater than that of
the people represented ; and whatever the people in their
mutual original compact have renounced the power of doing
ment in such manner as shall be by that community judged most conducive to
the public weal.
VI. That those who are employed in the legislative and executive business
of the state may be restrained from oppression, the people have a right, at such
periods as they may think proper, to reduce their public officers to a private
station, and supply the vacancies by certain and regular elections.
VII. That all elections ought to be free ; and that all free men having a suf
ficient evident common interest with, and attachment to the community, have
a right to elect officers, or to be elected into office.
VIII. That every member of society hath a right to be protected in the
enjoyment of life, liberty and property, and therefore is bound to contribute his
proportion towards the expense of that protection, and yield his personal
service when necessary, or an equivalent thereto ; but no part of a man's prop
erty can be justly taken from him, or applied to public uses, without his own
consent, or that of his legal representatives : nor can any man who is con
scientiously scrupulous of bearing arms, be justly compelled thereto, if he will
pay such equivalent : nor are the people bound by any laws, but such as they
have in like manner assented to, for their common good.
IX. That in all prosecutions for criminal offences, a man hath a right to be
heard by himself and his counsel, to demand the cause and nature of his ac
cusation, to be confronted with the witnesses, to call for evidence in his fa
vour, and a speedy public trial, by an impartial jury of the country, without
the unanimous consent of which jury he cannot be found guilty : nor can he
be compelled to give evidence against himself ; nor can any man be justly
deprived of his liberty, except by the laws of the land, or the judgment of his
peers. X. That the people have a right to hold themselves, their houses, papers,
and possessions free from search or seizure ; and therefore warrants without
oaths or affirmations, first made, affording a sufficient foundation for them,

140 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [!786
towards, or acting over each other, the representatives cannot
assume the power to do, because, as I have already said, the
power of the representatives cannot be greater than that of
the people they represent.
In this place it naturally presents itself that the people in
their original compact of equal justice or first principles of a
republic, renounced, as despotic, detestable and unjust, the
assuming a right of breaking and violating their engagements,
contracts and compacts with, or defrauding, imposing or
tyrannizing over each other, and therefore the representa
tives cannot make an act to do it for them, and any such
kind of act would be an attempt to depose not the personal
sovereign, but the sovereign principle of the republic, and to
introduce despotism in its stead.
and whereby any officer or messenger may be commanded or required to
search suspected places, or to seize any person or persons, his or their prop
erty, not particularly described, are contrary to that right, and ought not to be
granted. XI. That in controversies respecting property, and in suits between man
and man, the parties have a right to trial by jury, which ought to be held
sacred. XII. That the people have a right to freedom of speech, and of writing and
publishing their sentiments : therefore the freedom of the press ought not to
be restrained.
XIII. That the people have a right to bear arms for the defence of them
selves and the state — and as standing armies, in the time of peace, are dan
gerous to liberty, they ought not to be kept up — and that the military should
be kept under a strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power.
XIV. That a frequent recurrence to fundamental principles, and a firm
adherence to justice, moderation, temperance, industry and frugality are ab
solutely necessary to preserve the blessings of liberty and keep a government
free — the people ought therefore to pay particular attention to these points
in the choice of officers and representatives, and have a right to exact a due
and constant regard to them, from their legislators and magistrates, in the
making and executing such laws as are necessary for the good government of
the state.
XV. That all men have a natural inherent right to emigrate from one state
to another that will receive them, or to form a new state in vacant countries,
or in such countries as they can purchase, whenever they think that thereby
they may promote their own happiness.
XVI. That the people have a right to assemble together, to consult for their
common good, to instruct their representatives, and to apply to the legislature
for redress of grievances, by address, petition, or remonstrance. — Author.

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 141
It may in this place be proper to distinguish between that
species of sovereignty which is claimed and exercised by
despotic monarchs, and that sovereignty which the citizens
of a republic inherit and retain. The sovereignty of a des
potic monarch assumes the power of making wrong right, or
right wrong, as he pleases or as it suits him. The sovereignty
in a republic is exercised to keep right and wrong in their
proper and distinct places, and never suffer the one to usurp
the place of the other. A republic, properly understood, is
a sovereignty of justice, in contradistinction to a sovereignty
of will.
Our experience in republicanism is yet so slender, that it
is much to be doubted, whether all our public laws and acts
are consistent with, or can be justified on, the principles of a
republican government.
We have been so much habited to act in committees at
the commencement of the dispute, and during the interreg
num of government, and in many cases since, and to adopt
expedients warranted by necessity, and to permit to our
selves a discretionary use of power, suited to the spur and
exigency of the moment, that a man transferred from a com
mittee to a seat in the legislature, imperceptibly takes with
him the ideas and habits he has been accustomed to, and
continues to think like a committee-man instead of a legis
lator, and to govern by the spirit rather than by the rule of
the constitution and the principles of the republic.
Having already stated that the power of the representa
tives can never exceed the power of the people whom they
represent, I now proceed to examine more particularly, what
the power of the representatives is.
It is, in the first place, the power of acting as legislators in
making laws — and in the second place, the power of acting
in certain cases, as agents or negotiators for the common
wealth, for such purposes as the circumstances of the com
monwealth require.
A very strange confusion of ideas, dangerous to the credit,
stability, and the good and honor of the commonwealth,
has arisen, by confounding those two distinct powers and

I42 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
things together, and blending every act of the assembly, of
whatever kind it may be, under one general name, of Laws
of the Commonwealth, and thereby creating an opinion (which
is truly of the despotic kind) that every succeeding assembly
has an equal power over every transaction, as well as law,
done by a former assembly.
All laws are acts, but all acts are not laws. Many of the
acts of the assembly are acts of agency or negociation,
that is they are acts of contract and agreement, on
the part of the state, with certain persons therein mentioned,
and for certain purposes therein recited. An act of this
kind, after it has passed the house, is of the nature of a deed
or contract, signed, sealed and delivered ; and subject to the
same general laws and principles of justice as all other deeds
and contracts are : for in a transaction of this kind, the state
stands as an individual, and can be known in no other char
acter in a court of justice.
By " laws" as distinct from the agency transactions, or
matters of negociation, are to be comprehended all those
public acts of the assembly or commonwealth, which have a
universal operation, or apply themselves to every individual
of the commonwealth. Of this kind are the laws for the
distribution and administration of justice, for the preserva
tion of the peace, for the security of property, for raising the
necessary revenue by just proportions, &c.
Acts of this kind are properly laws, and they may be
altered, amended and repealed, or others substituted in their
places, as experience shall direct, for the better effecting the
purpose for which they were intended : and the right and
power of the assembly to do this is derived from the right
and power which the people, were they all assembled to
gether, instead of being represented, would have to do the
same thing : because, in acts or laws of this kind, there is no
other party than the public. The law, or the alteration, or
the repeal, is for themselves ; — and whatever the effects may
be, it falls on themselves ; — if for the better, they have the
benefit of it — if for the worse, they suffer the inconvenience.
No violence to any one is here offered — no breach of faith is

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 143

here committed. It is therefore one of those rights and
powers which is within the sense, meaning and limits of the
original compact of justice which they formed with each
other as the foundation-principle of the republic, and being
one of those rights and powers, it devolves on their represen
tatives by delegation.
As it is not my intention (neither is it within the limits
assigned to this work) to define every species of what may
be called laws (but rather to distinguish that part in which
the representatives act as agents or negotiators for the state
from the legislative part,) I shall pass on to distinguish and
describe those acts of the assembly which are acts of agency
or negotiation, and to show that as they are different in
their nature, construction and operation, from legislative
acts, so likewise the power and authority of the assembly
over them, after they are passed, is different.
It must occur to every person on the first reflection, that
the affairs and circumstances of a commonwealth require
other business to be done besides that of making laws, and,
consequently, that the different kinds of business cannot all
be classed under one name, or be subject to one and the
same rule of treatment. — But to proceed-
By agency transactions, or matters of negociation, done by
the assembly, are to be comprehended all that kind of public
business, which the assembly, as representatives of the
republic, transact in its behalf, with a certain person or per
sons, or part or parts of the republic, for purposes men
tioned in the act, and which the assembly confirm and ratify
on the part of the commonwealth, by affixing to it the seal
of the state.
An act of this kind, differs from a law of the before-men
tioned kind ; because here are two parties and there but one,
and the parties are bound to perform different and distinct
parts : whereas, in the before-mentioned law, every man's
part was the same.
These acts, therefore, though numbered among the laws,
are evidently distinct therefrom, and are not of the legisla
tive kind. The former are laws for the government of the

144 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
commonwealth ; these are transactions of business, such as,
selling and conveying an estate belonging to the public, or
buying one ; acts for borrowing money, and fixing with the
lender the terms and modes of payment ; acts of agreement
and contract, with a certain person or persons, for certain
purposes : and, in short, every act in which two parties, the
state being one, are particularly mentioned or described, and
in which the form and nature of a bargain or contract is
comprehended. — These, if for custom and uniformity sake
we call them by the name of laws, are not laws for the gov
ernment of the commonwealth, but for the government of
the contracting parties, as all deeds and contracts are ; and
are not, properly speaking, acts of the assembly, but joint
acts, or acts of the assembly in behalf of the commonwealth
on one part, and certain persons therein mentioned on the
other part.
Acts of this kind are distinguishable into two classes : —
ist, Those wherein the matters inserted in the act have
already been settled and adjusted between the state on one
part, and the persons therein mentioned on the other part.
In this case the act is the completion and ratification of the
contract or matters therein recited. It is in fact a deed
signed, sealed and delivered.
2d, Those acts wherein the matters have not been already
agreed upon, and wherein the act only holds forth certain
propositions and terms to be accepted of and acceded to.
I shall give an instance of each of those acts. First, the
state wants the loan of a sum of money — certain persons
make an offer to government to lend that sum, and send in
their proposals : the government accept these proposals,
and all the matters of the loan and the payment are agreed
on ; and an act is passed according to the usual form of
passing acts, ratifying and confirming this agreement. This
act is final.
In the second case, — the state, as in the preceding one,
wants a loan of money — the assembly passes an act holding
forth the terms on which it will borrow and pay : this act
has no force until the propositions and terms are accepted of

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 145
and acceded to by some person or persons, and when those
terms are accepted of and complied with, the act is binding
on the state. — But if at the meeting of the next assembly, or
any other, the whole sum intended to be borrowed, should
not be borrowed, that assembly may stop where they are,
and discontinue proceeding with the loan, or make new prop
ositions and terms for the remainder; but so far as the
subscriptions have been filled up, and the terms complied
with, it is, as in the first case, a signed deed : and in the
same manner are all acts, let the matters in them be what
they may, wherein, as I have before mentioned, the state on
one part, and certain individuals on the other part, are parties
in the act.
If the state should become a bankrupt, the creditors, as in
all cases of bankruptcy, will be sufferers ; they will have but
a dividend for the whole : but this is not a dissolution of the
contract, but an accommodation of it, arising from necessity.
And so in all cases of this kind, if an inability takes place on
either side, the contract cannot be performed, and some ac
commodation must be gone into, or the matter falls through
of itself.
It may likewise, though it ought not to, happen that in
performing the matters, agreeably to the terms of the act,
inconveniences, unforeseen at the time of making the act,
may arise to either or both parties : in this case, those in
conveniences may be removed by the mutual consent and
agreement of the parties, and each finds its benefit in so
doing : for in a republic it is the harmony of its parts that
constitutes their several and mutual good.
But the acts themselves are legally binding, as much as if
they had been made between two private individuals. The
greatness of one party cannot give it a superiority or advan
tage over the other. The state, or its representatives, the
assembly, has no more power over an act of this kind, after
it has passed, than if the state was a private person. It is
the glory of a republic to have it so, because it secures the
individual from becoming the prey of power, and prevents
might from overcoming right.
VOL. II. — IO

I46 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
If any difference or dispute arise afterwards between the
state and the individuals with whom the agreement is made
respecting the contract, or the meaning, or extent of any of
the matters contained in the act, which may affect the prop
erty or interest of either, such difference or dispute must be
judged of, and decided upon, by the laws of the land, in a
court of justice and trial by jury ; that is, by the laws of the
land already in being at the time such act and contract was
made. — No law made afterwards can apply to the case, either
directly, or by construction or implication : for such a law
would be a retrospective law, or a law made after the fact,
and cannot even be produced in court as applying to the
case before it for judgment.
That this is justice, that it is the true principle of republi
can government, no man will be so hardy as to deny. — If,
therefore, a lawful contract or agreement, sealed and ratified,
cannot be affected or altered by any act made afterwards,
how much more inconsistent and irrational, despotic and
unjust would it be, to think of making an act with the pro
fessed intention of breaking up a contract already signed
and sealed.
That it is possible an assembly, in the heat and indiscre
tion of party, and meditating on power rather than on the
principle by which all power in a republican government is
governed, that of equal justice, may fall into the error of
passing such an act, is admitted ; — but it would be an actless
act, an act that goes for nothing, an act which the courts of
justice, and the established laws of the land, could know
nothing of.
Because such an act would be an act of one party only,
not only without, but against the consent of the other ; and,
therefore, cannot be produced to affect a contract made be
tween the two. — That the violation of a contract should be
set up as a justification to the violator, would be the same
thing as to say, that a man by breaking his promise is
freed from the obligation of it, or that by transgressing the
laws, he exempts himself from the punishment of them.
Besides the constitutional and legal reasons why an

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 147
assembly cannot, of its own act and authority, undo or make
void a contract made between the state (by a former as
sembly) and certain individuals, may be added what may be
called the natural reasons, or those reasons which the plain
rules of common sense point out to every man. Among
which are the following :
The principals, or real parties in the contract, are the
state and the persons contracted with. The assembly is
not a party, but an agent in behalf of the state, authorised
and empowered to transact its affairs.
Therefore it is the state that is bound on one part and
certain individuals on the other part, and the performance
of the contract, according to the conditions of it, devolves
on succeeding assemblies, not as principals, but as agents.
Therefore, for the next or any other assembly to under
take to dissolve the state from its obligation is an assumption
of power of a novel and extraordinary kind. — It is the ser
vant attempting to free his master.
The election of new assemblies following each other makes
no difference in the nature of the thing. The state is still
the same state. The public is still the same body. These
do not annually expire though the time of an assembly does.
These are not new-created every year, nor can they be dis
placed from their original standing; but are a perpetual,
permanent body, always in being and still the same.
But if we adopt the vague, inconsistent idea that every
new assembly has a full and complete authority over every
act done by the state in a former assembly, and confound
together laws, contracts, and every species of public business,
it will lead us into a wilderness of endless confusion and in
surmountable difficulties. It would be declaring an assembly
despotic for the time being.— Instead of a government of
established principles administered by established rules, the
authority of government by being strained so high, would,
by the same rule, be reduced proportionably as low, and
would be no other than that of a committee of the state,
acting with discretionary powers for one year. Every new
election would be a new revolution, or it would suppose

148 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
the public of the former year dead and a new public in its
place. Having now endeavoured to fix a precise idea to, and dis
tinguish between legislative acts and acts of negotiation and
agency, I shall proceed to apply this distinction to the case
now in dispute, respecting the charter of the bank.
The charter of the bank, or what is the same thing, the
act for incorporating it, is to all intents and purposes an
act of negotiation and contract, entered into, and confirmed
between the state on one part, and certain persons mentioned
therein on the other part. The purpose for which the act
was done on the part of the state is therein recited, viz. the
support which the finances of the country would derive
therefrom. The incorporating clause is the condition or
obligation on the part of the state ; and the obligation on
the part of the bank, is " that nothing contained in that
act shall be construed to authorise the said corporation to
exercise any powers in this state repugnant to the laws or
constitution thereof."
Here are all the marks and evidences of a contract. The
parties — the purport — and the reciprocal obligations.
That this is a contract, or a joint act, is evident from its
being in the power of either of the parties to have forbidden
or prevented its being done. The state could not force the
stockholders of the bank to be a corporation, and therefore
as their consent was necessary to the making the act, their
dissent would have prevented its being made ; so on the
other hand, as the bank could not force the state to incorpo
rate them, the consent or dissent of the state would have
had the same effect to do, or to prevent its being done;
and as neither of the parties could make the act alone,
for the same reason can neither of them dissolve it alone:
but this is not the case with a law or act of legislation, and
therefore the difference proves it to be an act of a different
kind. The bank may forfeit the charter by delinquency, but the
delinquency must be proved and established by a legal pro
cess in a court of justice and trial by jury ; for the state, or

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 149

the assembly, is not to be a judge in its own case, but must
come to the laws of the land for judgment ; for that which
is law for the individual, is likewise law for the state.
Before I enter further into this affair, I shall go back to the
circumstances of the country, and the condition the govern
ment was in, for some time before, as well as at the time it
entered into this engagement with the bank, and this act of
incorporation was passed : for the government of this state,
and I suppose the same of the rest, were then in want of two
of the most essential matters which governments could be
destitute of — money and credit.
In looking back to those times, and bringing forward some
of the circumstances attending them, I feel myself entering
on unpleasant and disagreeable ground ; because some of the
matters which the attacks on the bank now make it neces
sary to state, in order to bring the affair fully before the pub
lic, will not add honour to those who have promoted that
measure and carried it through the late house of assembly ;
and for whom, though my own judgment and opinion on the
case oblige me to differ from, I retain my esteem, and the
social remembrance of times past. But, I trust, those gentle
men will do me the justice to recollect my exceeding ear
nestness with them, last spring, when the attack on the bank
first broke out ; for it clearly appeared to me one of those
overheated measures, which, neither the country at large,
nor their own constituents, would justify them in, when it
came to be fully understood ; for however high a party meas
ure may be carried in an assembly, the people out of doors
are all the while following their several occupations and em
ployments, minding their farms and their business, and take
their own time and leisure to judge of public measures; the
consequence of which is, that they often judge in a cooler
spirit than their representatives act in.
It may be easily recollected that the present bank was
preceded by, and rose out of a former one, called the Penn
sylvania bank which began a few months before ; the occasion
of which I shall briefly state.
In the spring of 1780, the Pennsylvania assembly was com-

150 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
posed of many of the same members, and nearly all of the
same connexion, which composed the late house that began
the attack on the bank. I served as clerk of the assembly of
1780, which station I resigned at the end of the year, and 1
accompanied a much lamented friend, the late colonel John !
Laurens, on an embassy to France.
The spring of 1780 was marked with an accumulation of '
misfortunes. The reliance placed on the defence of Charles
ton failed, and exceedingly lowered or depressed the spirits
of the country. The measures of government, from the want
of money, means and credit, dragged on like a heavy loaded
carriage without wheels, and were nearly got to what a coun
tryman would understand by a dead pull.
The assembly of that year met, by adjournment, at an
unusual time, the ioth of May, and what particularly added
to the affliction, was, that so many of the members, instead
of spiriting up their constituents to the most nervous exer
tions, came to the assembly furnished with petitions to be
exempt from paying taxes. How the public measures were
to be carried on, the country defended, and the army re
cruited, clothed, fed, and paid, when the only resource, and
that not half sufficient, that of taxes, should be relaxed to
almost nothing, was a matter too gloomy to look at. A
language very different from that of petitions ought at this
time to have been the language of every one. A declaration
to have stood forth with their lives and fortunes, and a
reprobation of every thought of partial indulgence would
have sounded much better than petitions.
While the assembly was sitting, a letter from the com
mander-in-chief was received by the executive council and
transmitted to the house. The doors were shut, and it fell
officially to me to read.
In this letter the naked truth of things was unfolded.
Among other informations, the general said, that notwith
standing his confidence in the attachment of the army to the
cause of the country, the distress of it, from the want of
every necessary which men could be destitute of, had arisen
to such a pitch, that the appearances of mutiny and discon-

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 151
tent were so strongly marked on the countenance of the army,
that he dreaded the event of every hour.
When the letter was read, I observed a despairing silence
in the house. Nobody spoke for a considerable time. At
length a member, of whose fortitude to withstand misfortunes
I had a high opinion, rose : " If," said he, " the account in
that letter is a true state of things, and we are in the situa
tion there represented, it appears to me in vain to contend
the matter any longer. We may as well give up at first as
at last."
The gentleman who spoke next, was (to the best of my
recollection) a member of Bucks county, who, in a cheerful
note, endeavored to dissipate the gloom of the house — " Well,
well," said he, " don't let the house despair, if things are not
so well as we wish, we must endeavour to make them bet
ter." And on a motion for adjournment, the conversation
went no further.
There was now no time to lose, and something absolutely
necessary to be done, which was not within the immediate
power of the house to do ; for what with the depreciation of
the currency, and slow operation of taxes, and the petitions
to be exempted therefrom, the treasury was moneyless, and
the government creditless.
If the assembly could not give the assistance which the
necessity of the case immediately required, it was very proper
the matter should be known by those who either could or
would endeavor to do it. To conceal the information within
the house, and not provide the relief which that information
required, was making no use of the knowledge, and endanger
ing the public cause. The only thing that now remained,
and was capable of reaching the case, was private credit, and
the voluntary aid of individuals ; and under this impression,
on my return from the house, I drew out the salary due to
me as clerk, enclosed five hundred dollars to a gentleman in
this city, in part of the whole, and wrote fully to him on the
subject of our affairs.
The gentleman to whom this letter was addressed is Mr.
Blair M'Clenaghan. I mentioned to him, that notwithstand-

152 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
ing the current opinion that the. enemy were beaten from
before Charleston, there were too many reasons to believe
the place was then taken and in the hands of the enemy :
the consequence of which would be, that a great part of the
British force would return, and join at New-York. That our
own army required to be augmented, ten thousand men, to
be able to stand against the combined force of the enemy.
I informed Mr. M'Clenaghan of general Washington's letter,
the extreme distresses he was surrounded with, and the
absolute occasion there was for the citizens to exert them
selves at this time, which there was no doubt they would
do, if the necessity was 'made known to them ; for that the
ability of government was exhausted. I requested Mr.
M'Clenaghan to propose a voluntary subscription among his
friends, and added, that I had enclosed five hundred dollars
as my mite thereto, and that I would increase it as far as
the last ability would enable me to go.*
The next day Mr. M'Clenaghan informed me that he had
communicated the contents of the letter at a meeting of
gentlemen at the coffee-house, and that a subscription was
immediately began ; that Mr. Robert Morris and himself
had subscribed two hundred pounds each, in hard money,
and that the subscription was going on very successfully.
This subscription was intended as a donation, and to be
given in bounties to promote the recruiting service. It is
dated June 8th, 1780. The original subscription list is now
in my possession — it amounts to four hundred pounds hard
money, and one hundred and one thousand three hundred
and sixty pounds continental.
While this subscription was going forward, information of
the loss of Charleston arrived, f and on a communication from
several members of congress to certain gentlemen of this
city, of the increasing distresses and dangers then taking
place, a meeting was held of the subscribers, and such other
*Mr. M'Clenaghan being now returned from Europe, has my consent to show
this letter to any gentleman who may be inclined to see it. — Author.
f Colonel Tennant, aid to general Lincoln, arrived the 14th of June, with
despatches of the capitulation of Charleston. — Author.

1786] ' DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 53
gentlemen who chose to attend, at the city tavern. This
meeting was on the 17th of June, nine days after the sub
scriptions had begun.
At this meeting it was resolved to open a security-sub
scription, to the amount of three hundred thousand pounds,
Pennsylvania currency, in real money ; the subscribers to
execute bonds to the amount of their subscriptions, and to
form a bank thereon for supplying the army. This being
resolved on and carried into execution, the plan of the first
subscriptions was discontinued, and this extended one
established in its stead.
By means of this bank the army was supplied through the
campaign, and being at the same time recruited, was enabled
to maintain its ground ; and on the appointment of Mr.
Morris to be superintendent of the finances the spring fol
lowing, he arranged the system of the present bank, styled
the bank of North America, and many of the subscribers of
the former bank tranferred their subscriptions into this.
Towards the establishment of this bank, congress passed
an ordinance of incorporation, December 21st, which the
government of Pennsylvania recognized by sundry matters :
and afterwards, on an application of the president and
directors of the bank, through the mediation of the executive
council, the assembly agreed to, and passed the state act of
incorporation April ist, 1782.
Thus arose the bank — produced by the distresses of the
times and the enterprising spirit of patriotic individuals. —
Those individuals furnished and risked the money, and the
aid which the government contributed was that of incorpo
rating them. — It would have been well if the State had
made all its bargains and contracts with as much true policy
as it made this : for a greater service for so small a consid
eration, that only of an act of incorporation, has not been
obtained since the government existed.
Having now shown how the bank originated, I shall pro
ceed with my remarks.
The sudden restoration of public and private credit, which
took place on the establishment of the bank, is an event as

154 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
extraordinary in itself as any domestic occurence during the
progress of the revolution.
How far a spirit of envy might operate to produce the
attack on the bank during the sitting of the late assembly, is
best known and felt by those who began or promoted the
attack. The bank had rendered services which the assembly
of 1780 could not, and acquired an honour which many of
its members might be unwilling to own, and wish to
obscure. But surely every government, acting on the principles of
patriotism and public good, would cherish an institution
capable of rendering such advantages to the community.
The establishment of the bank in one of the most trying
vicissitudes of the war, its zealous services in the public
cause, its influence in restoring and supporting credit, and
the punctuality with which all its business has been trans
acted, are matters, that so far from meriting the treatment
it met with from the late assembly, are an honour to the
state, and what the body of her citizens may be proud
to own.
But the attack on the bank, as a chartered institution,
under the protection of its violators, however criminal it may
be as an error of government, or impolitic as a measure of
party, is not to be charged on the constituents of those who
made the attack. It appears from every circumstance that
has come to light, to be a measure which that assembly con
trived of itself. The members did not come charged with
the affair from their constituents. There was no idea of such
a thing when they were elected or when they met. The
hasty and precipitate manner in which it was hurried through
the house, and the refusal of the house to hear the directors
of the bank in its defence, prior to the publication of the
repealing bill for public consideration, operated to prevent
their constituents comprehending the subject : therefore,
whatever may be wrong in the proceedings lies not at the
door of the public. The house took the affair on its own
shoulders, and whatever blame there is, lies on them.
The matter must have been prejudged and predetermined

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 155
by a majority of the members out of the house, before it
was brought into it. The whole business appears to have
been fixed at once, and all reasoning or debate on the case
rendered useless.
Petitions from a very inconsiderable number of persons,
suddenly procured, and so privately done, as to be a secret
among the few that signed them, were presented to the
house and read twice in one day, and referred to a committee
of the house to inquire and report thereon. I here subjoin
the petition * and the report, and shall exercise the right
* Minutes of the assembly, March 21, 1785. Petitions from a considerable
number of the inhabitants of Chester county were read, representing that the
bank established at Philadelphia has fatal effects upon the community ; that
whilst men are enabled, by means of the bank, to receive near three times the
rate of common interest, and at the same time receive their money at very
short warning, whenever they have occasion for it, it will be impossible for
the husbandman or mechanic to borrow on the former terms of legal interest
and distant payments of the principal ; that the best security will not enable
the person to borrow : that experience clearly demonstrates the mischievous
consequences of this institution to the fair trader ; that imposters have been
enabled to support themselves in a fictitious credit, by means of a temporary
punctuality at the bank, until they have drawn in their honest neighbours to
trust them with their property, or to pledge their credit as sureties, and have
been finally involved in ruin and distress ; that they have repeatedly seen
the stopping of discounts at the bank operate on the trading part of the com
munity, with a degree of violence scarcely inferior to that of a stagnation of
the blood in the human body, hurrying the wretched merchant who hath
debts to pay into the hands of griping usurers : that the directors of the bank
may give such preference in trade, by advances of money, to their particular
favourites, as to destroy that equality which ought to prevail in a commercial
country ; that paper money has often proved beneficial to the state, but the
bank forbids it, and the people must acquiesce : therefore, and in order to
restore public confidence and private security, they pray that a bill may be
brought in and passed into a law for repealing the law for incorporating the
bank. March 28. The report of the committee, read March 25, on the petitions
from the counties of Chester and Berks, and the city of Philadelphia and its
vicinity, praying the act of the assembly, whereby the bank was established at
Philadelphia, may be repealed, was read the second time as follows— viz.
The committee to whom was referred the petitions concerning the bank
established at Philadelphia, and who were instructed to inquire whether the
said bank be compatible with the public safety, and that equality which ought
ever to prevail between the individuals of a republic, beg leave to report, that
it is the opinion of this committee that the said bank, as at present established,

156 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. \M%b
and privilege of a citizen in examining their merits, not for
the purpose of opposition, but with a design of making an
intricate affair more generally and better understood.
So far as my private judgment is capable of comprehend
ing the subject, it appears to me, that the committee were
unacquainted with, and have totally mistaken, the nature
and business of a bank, as well as the matter committed to
them, considered as a proceeding of government.
They were instructed by the house to inquire whether the
bank established at Philadelphia was compatible with the
public safety. It is scarcely possible to suppose the instruc
tions meant no more than that they were to inquire of one
another. It is certain they made no inquiry at the bank, to
inform themselves of the situation of its affairs, how they
were conducted, what aids it had rendered the public
cause, or whether any ; nor do the committee produce in
their report a single fact or circumstance to show that they
made any inquiry at all, or whether the rumours then circu
lated were true or false ; but content themselves with model
ling the insinuations of the petitions into a report and giving
an opinion thereon. It would appear from the report, that
is in every view incompatible with the public safety — that in the present
state of our trade, the said bank has a direct tendency to banish a great
part of the specie from the country, so as to produce a scarcity of money, and
to collect into the hands of the stockholders of the said bank, almost the
whole of the money which remains amongst us. That the accumulation of
enormous wealth in the hands of a society, who claim perpetual duration, will
necessarily produce a degree of influence and power, which cannot be in
trusted in the hands of any set of men whatsoever, without endangering the
public safety. That the said bank, in its corporate capacity, is empowered
to bold estates to the amount of ten millions of dollars, and by the tenor of
the present charter, is to exist forever, without being obliged to yield any
emolument to the government, or to be at all dependent upon it. That the
great profits of the bank which will daily increase as money grows scarcer, and
which already far exceed the profits of European banks, have tempted for
eigners to vest their money in this bank, and thus to draw from us large sums
for interest.
That foreigners will doubtless be more and more induced to become stock
holders, until the time may arrive when this enormous engine of power may
become subject to foreign influence ; this country may be agitated with the
politics of European courts, and the good people of America reduced once more

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 57
the committee either conceived that the house had already
determined how it would act without regard to the case, and
that they were only a committee for form sake, and to give
a colour of inquiry without making any, or that the case was
referred to them, as law-questions are sometimes referred to
law-officers for an opinion only.
This method of doing public business serves exceedingly
to mislead a country. — When the constituents of an assembly
hear that an inquiry into any matter is directed to be made,
and a committee appointed for that purpose, they naturally
conclude that the inquiry is made, and that the future pro
ceedings of the house are in consequence of the matters,
facts, and information obtained by means of that inquiry. —
But here is a committee of inquiry making no inquiry at all,
and giving an opinion on a case without inquiring into the
merits of it. This proceeding of the committee would justify
an opinion that it was not their wish to get, but to get over
information, and lest the inquiry should not suit their wishes,
omitted to make any. The subsequent conduct of the
house, in resolving not to hear the directors of the bank, on
into a state of subordination, and dependance upon some one or other of the
European powers. That at best, if it were even confined to the hands of Amer
icans, it would be totally destructive of that equality which ought to prevail in
a republic. We have nothing in our free and equal government capable of
balancing the influence which this bank must create — and we see nothing,
which in the course of a few years, can prevent the directors of the bank from
governing Pennsylvania. Already we have felt its influence indirectly inter
fering in the measures of the legislature. Already the house of assembly, the
representatives of the people, have been threatened, that the credit of our paper
currency will be blasted by the bank ; and if this growing evil continues, we
fear the time is not very distant, when the bank will be able to dictate to the
legislature, what laws to pass and what to forbear.
Your committee therefore beg leave further to. report the following resolution
to be adopted by the house — viz.
Resolved, that a committee be appointed to bring in a bill to repeal the act
of assembly passed the ist day of April, 1782, entitled, "An act to incorporate
the subscribers to the bank of North-America : " and also to repeal one other
act of assembly, passed the 1 8th of March, 1782, entitled, "An act for pre
venting and punishing the counterfeiting of the common seal, bank bills and
bank notes of the president, directors and company, of the bank of North-
America, and for the other purposes therein mentioned." — Author.

158 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
their application for that purpose, prior to the publication of
the bill for the consideration of the people, strongly cor
roborates this opinion : for why should not the house hear
them, unless it was apprehensive that the bank, by such a
public opportunity, would produce proofs of its services
and usefulness, that would not suit the temper and views of
its oppressors?
But if the house did not wish or choose to hear the defence
of the bank, it was no reason that their constituents should
not. The constitution of this state, in lieu of having two
branches of legislature, has substituted, that, "to the end
that laws before they are enacted may be more maturely
considered, and the inconvenience of hasty determinations as
much as possible prevented, all bills of a public nature shall
be printed for the consideration of the people." * The people,
therefore, according to the constitution, stand in the place of
another house ; or, more properly speaking, are a house in
their own right. But in this instance, the assembly arrogates
the whole power to itself, and places itself as a bar to stop
the necessary information spreading among the people. The
application of the bank to be heard before the bill was pub
lished for public consideration had two objects. First, to the
house, — and secondly, through the house to the people, who
are as another house. It was as a defence in the first instance,
and as an appeal in the second. But the assembly absorbs
the right of the people to judge ; because, by refusing to hear
the defence, they barred the appeal. Were there no other
cause which the constituents of that assembly had for cen
suring its conduct, than the exceeding unfairness, partiality,
and arbitrariness with which its business was transacted, it
would be cause sufficient.
Let the constituents of assemblies differ, as they may, re
specting certain peculiarities in the form of the constitution,
they will all agree in supporting its principles, and in repro
bating unfair proceedings and despotic measures. — Every
constituent is a member of the republic, which is a station of
more consequence to him than being a member of a party,
* Constitution, sect. 15th. — Author.

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 159
and though they may differ from each other in their choice
of persons to transact the public business, it is of equal im
portance to all parties that the business be done on right
principles ; otherwise our laws and acts, instead of being
founded in justice, will be founded in party, and be laws and
acts of retaliation ; and instead of being a republic of free
citizens, we shall be alternately tyrants and slaves. But to
return to the report.
The report begins by stating that, "The committee to
whom was referred the petitions concerning the bank estab
lished at Philadelphia, and who were instructed to inquire
whether the said bank be compatible with the public safety,
and that equality which ought ever to prevail between the
individuals of a republic, beg leave to report " (not that they
have made any inquiry, but) " that it is the opinion of this
committee, that the said bank, as at present established, is,
in every view, incompatible with the public safety." But
why is it so? Here is an opinion unfounded and unwar
ranted. The committee have begun their report at the
wrong end ; for an opinion, when given as a matter of judg
ment, is an action of the mind which follows a fact, but here
it is put in the room of one.
The report then says, " that in the present state of our
trade, the said bank has a direct tendency to banish a great
part of the specie from the country, and to collect into the
hands of the stockholders of the bank, almost the whole of
the money which remains among us."
Here is another mere assertion, just like the former, with
out a single fact or circumstance to show why it is made, or
whereon it is founded. Now the very reverse of what the
committee asserts is the natural consequence of a bank.
Specie may be called the stock in trade of the bank, it is
therefore its interest to prevent it from wandering out of the
country, and to keep a constant standing supply to be ready
for all domestic occasions and demands. Were it true that
the bank has a direct tendency to banish the specie from
the country, there would soon be an end to the bank ;
and, therefore, the committee have so far mistaken the mat-

l6o THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
ter, as to put their fears in the place of their wishes : for if it
is to happen as the committee states, let the bank alone and
it will cease of itself, and the repealing act need not have
been passed.
It is the interest of the bank that people should keep their
cash there, and all commercial countries find the exceeding
great convenience of having a general depository for their
cash. But so far from banishing it, there are no two classes
of people in America who are so much interested in preserving
hard money in the country as the bank and the merchant.
Neither of them can carry on their business without it. Their
opposition to the paper money of the late assembly was be
cause it has a direct effect, as far as it is able, to banish the
specie, and that without providing any means for bringing
more in.
The committee must have been aware of this, and there
fore chose to spread the first alarm, and, groundless as it was,
to trust to the delusion.
As the keeping the specie in the country is the interest of
the bank, so it has the best opportunities of preventing its
being sent away, and the earliest knowledge of such a design.
While the bank is the general depository of cash, no great
sums can be obtained without getting it from thence, and as
it is evidently prejudicial to its interest to advance money to
be sent abroad, because in this case the money cannot by
circulation return again, the bank, therefore, is interested in
preventing what the committee would have it suspected of
promoting. It is to prevent the exportation of cash, and to retain it in
the country, that the bank has, on several occasions, stopped
the discounting notes till the danger has been passed.* The
* The petitions say, ' ' That they have frequently seen the stopping of discounts
at the bank operate on the trading part of the community, with a degree of vio
lence scarcely inferior to that of a stagnation of the blood in the human body,
hurrying the wretched merchant who hath debts to pay into the hands of griping
usurers." As the persons who say or signed this live somewhere in Chester county, they
are not, from situation, certain of what they say. Those petitions have every
appearance of being contrived for the purpose of bringing the matter on. The

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. l6l
first part, therefore, of the assertion, that of banishing the
specie, contains an apprehension as needless as it is ground
less, and which, had the committee understood, or been the
least informed of the nature of a bank, they could not have
made. It is very probable that some of the opposers of the
bank are those persons who have been disappointed in their
attempts to obtain specie for this purpose, and now disguise
their opposition under other pretences.
I now come to the second part of the assertion, which is,
that when the bank has banished a great part of the specie
from the country, " it will collect into the hands of the stock
holders almost the whole of the money which remains among
us." But how, or by what means, the bank is to accomplish
this wonderful feat, the committee have not informed us.
Whether people are to give their money to the bank for
nothing, or whether the bank is to charm it from them as a
rattlesnake charms a squirrel from a tree, the committee have
left us as much in the dark about as they were themselves.
Is it possible the committee should know so very little of
the matter, as not to know that no part of the money which
at any time may be in the bank belongs to the stockholders ?
petitions and the report have strong evidence in them of being both drawn by
the same person : for the report is as clearly the echo of the petitions as ever the
address of the British parliament was the echo of the king's speech.
Besides the reason I have already given for occasionally stopping discounting
notes at the bank, there are other necessary reasons. It is for the purpose of
settling accounts : short reckonings make long friends. The bank lends its
money for short periods, and by that means assists a great many different people :
and if it did not sometimes stop discounting as a means of settling with the per
sons it has already lent its money to, those persons would find a way to keep what
they had borrowed longer than they ought, and prevent others being assisted.
It is a fact, and some of the committee know it to be so, that sundry of those
persons who then opposed the bank acted this part.
The stopping the discounts do not, and cannot, operate to call in the loans
sooner than the time for which they were lent, and therefore the charge is false
that ' ' it hurries men into the hands of griping usurers : " and the truth is, that it
operates to keep them from them.
If petitions are to be contrived to cover the design of a house of assembly,
and give a pretence for its conduct, or if a house is to be led by the nose by the
idle tale of any fifty or sixty signers to a petition, it is time for the public to look
a little closer into the conduct of its representatives. — Author.
vol. n.— II

l62 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
Not even the original capital which they put in is any part
of it their own, until every person who has a demand upon
the bank is paid, and if there is not a sufficiency for this pur
pose, on the balance of loss and gain, the original money of
the stockholders must make up the deficiency.
The money, which at any time may be in the bank, is the
property of every man who holds a bank note, or deposits
cash there, or who has a just demand upon it from the city
of Philadelphia up to fort Pitt, or to any part of the United
States ; and he can draw the money from it when he pleases.
Its being in the bank, does not in the least make it the
property of the stockholders, any more than the money in
the state treasury is the property of the state treasurer.
They are only stewards over it for those who please to put
it, or let it remain there : and, therefore, this second part of
the assertion is somewhat ridiculous.
The next paragraph in the report is, " that the accumulation
of enormous wealth in the hands of a society who claim perpetual
duration, will necessarily produce a degree of influence and
power which cannot be entrusted in the hands of any set of
men whatsoever " (the committee I presume excepted) " with
out endangering public safety." There is an air of solemn
fear in this paragraph which is something like introducing a
ghost in a play to keep people from laughing at the players.
I have already shown that whatever wealth there may be,
at any time, in the bank, is the property of those who have
demands upon the bank, and not the property of the stock
holders. As a society they hold no property, and most
probably never will, unless it should be a house to transact
their business in, instead of hiring one. Every half year the
bank settles its accounts, and each individual stockholder
takes his dividend of gain or loss to himself, and the bank
begins the next half year in the same manner it began the
first, and so on. This being the nature of a bank, there can
be no accumulation of wealth among them as a society.
For what purpose the word " society " is introduced into
the report I do not know, unless it be to make a false im
pression upon people's minds. It has no connexion with the

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 163
subject, for the bank is not a society, but a company, and
denominated so in the charter. There are several religious
societies incorporated in this state, which hold property as
the right of those societies, and to which no person can be
long that is not of the same religious profession. But this is
not the case with the bank. The bank is a company for the
promotion and convenience of commerce, which is a matter
in which all the state is interested, and holds no property in
the manner which those societies do.
But there is a direct contradiction in this paragraph to that
which goes before it. The committee, there, accuses the bank
of banishing the specie, and here, of accumulating enormous
sums of it. So here are two enormous sums of specie ; one
enormous sum going out, and another enormous sum remain
ing. To reconcile this contradiction, the committee should
have added to their report, that they suspected the bank had
found out the philosopher' s stone, and kept it a secret.
The next paragraph is, " that the said bank, in its corporate
capacity, is empowered to hold estates to the amount of ten
millions of dollars, and by the tenor of the present charter is
to exist for ever, without being obliged to yield any emolu
ment to the government, or be in the least dependant on it."
The committee have gone so vehemently into this business,
and so completely shown their want of knowledge in every
point of it, as to make, in the first part of this paragraph, a
fear of what, the greater fear is, will never happen. Had the
committee known any thing of banking, they must have
known, that the objection against banks has been (not that
they held great estates but) that they held none; that they
had no real, fixed, and visible property, and that it is the
maxim and practice of banks not to hold any.
The honourable chancellor Livingston, late secretary for
foreign affairs, did me the honour of showing, and discoursing
with me on, a plan of a bank he had drawn up for the state
of New-York. In this plan it was made a condition or obli
gation, that whatever the capital of the bank amounted to in
specie, there should be added twice as much in real estates.
But the mercantile interest rejected the proposition.

1 64 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
It was a very good piece of policy in the assembly which
passed the charter act, to add the clause to empower the
bank to purchase and hold real estates. It was as an induce
ment to the bank to do it, because such estates being held
as the property of the bank would be so many mortgages to
the public in addition to the money capital of the bank.
But the doubt is that the bank will not be induced to
accept the opportunity. The bank has existed five years,
and has not purchased a shilling of real property : and as
such property or estates cannot be purchased by the bank
but with the interest money which the stock produces, and
as that is divided every half year among the stockholders,
and each stockholder chooses to have the management of his
own dividend, and if he lays it out in purchasing an estate
to have that estate his own private property, and under his
own immediate management, there is no expectation, so far
from being any fear, that the clause will be accepted.
Where knowledge is a duty, ignorance is a crime ; and the
committee are criminal in not understanding this subject
better. Had this clause not been in the charter, the com
mittee might have reported the want of it as a defect, in not
empowering the bank to hold estates as a real security to its
creditors : but as the complaint now stands, the accusation
of it is, that the charter empowers the bank to give real
security to its creditors. A complaint never made, heard of,
or thought of before.
The second article in this paragraph is, " that the bank,
according to the tenor of the present charter, is to exist for
ever." Here I agree with the committee, and am glad to
find that among such a list of errors and contradictions there
is one idea which is not wrong, although the committee have
made a wrong use of it.
As we are not to live for ever ourselves, and other genera
tions are to follow us, we have neither the power nor the
right to govern them, or to say how they shall govern them
selves. It is the summit of human vanity, and shows a
covetousness of power beyond the grave, to be dictating
to the world to come. It is sufficient that we do that which

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 65
is right in our own day, and leave them with the advantage
of good examples.
As the generations of the world are every day both com
mencing and expiring, therefore, when any public act, of this
sort, is done, it naturally supposes the age of that generation
to be then beginning, and the time contained between com
ing of age, and the natural end of life, is the extent of time
it has a right to go to, which may be about thirty years ; for
though many may die before, others will live beyond ; and
the mean time is equally fair for all generations.
If it was made an article in the constitution, that all laws
and acts should cease of themselves in thirty years, and have
no legal force beyond that time, it would prevent their be
coming too numerous and voluminous, and serve to keep
them within view in a compact compass. Such as were
proper to be continued, would be enacted again, and those
which were not, would go into oblivion. There is the same
propriety that a nation should fix a time for a full settlement
of its affairs, and begin again from a new date, as that an
individual should ; and to keep within the distance of thirty
years would be a convenient period.
The British, from the want of some general regulation of
this kind, have a great number of obsolete laws; which,
though out of use and forgotten, are not out of force, and
are occasionally brought up for particular purposes, and in
nocent, unwary persons trapanned thereby.
To extend this idea still further, — it would probably be a
considerable improvement in the political system of nations,
to make all treaties of peace for a limited time. It is the
nature of the mind to feel uneasy under the idea of a con
dition perpetually existing over it, and to excite in itself
apprehensions that would not take place were it not from
that cause.
Were treaties of peace made for, and renewable every
seven or ten years, the natural effect would be, to make
peace continue longer than it does under the custom of mak
ing peace for ever. If the parties felt, or apprehended, any
inconveniences under the terms already made, they would

l66 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
look forward to the time when they should be eventually re
lieved therefrom, and might renew the treaty on improved
conditions. This opportunity periodically occurring, and the
recollection of it always existing, would serve as a chimney
to the political fabric, to carry off the smoke and fume of
national fire. It would naturally abate and honorably take
off the edge and occasion for fighting : and however the
parties might determine to do it, when the time of the treaty
should expire, it would then seem like fighting in cool blood :
the fighting temper would be dissipated before the fighting
time arrived, and negotiation supply its place. To know
how probable this may be, a man need do no more than
observe the progress of his own mind on any private circum
stance similar in its nature to a public one. But to return to
my subject.
To give limitation is to give duration : and though it is
not a justifying reason, that because an act or contract is not
to last for ever, that it shall be broken or violated to-day, yet,
where no time is mentioned, the omission affords an oppor
tunity for the abuse. When we violate a contract on this
pretence, we assume a right that belongs to the next genera
tion ; for though they, as a following generation, have the
right of altering or setting it aside, as not being concerned in
the making it, or not being done in their day, we, who made
it, have not that right ; and, therefore, the committee, in this
part of their report, have made a wrong use of a right prin
ciple ; and as this clause in the charter might have been
altered by the consent of the parties, it cannot be produced
to justify the violation. And were it not altered there would
be no inconvenience from it. The term " for ever " is au
absurdity that would have no effect. The next age will
think for itself, by the same rule of right that we have done,
and not admit any assumed authority of ours to encroach
upon the system of their day. Our for ever ends, where
their for ever begins.
The third article in this paragraph is, that the bank holds
its charter " without being obliged to yield any emolument
to the government."

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 67
Ingratitude has a short memory. It was on the failure of
the government to support the public cause, that the bank
originated. It stepped in as a support, when some of the
persons then in the government, and who now oppose the
bank, were apparently on the point of abandoning the cause,
not from disaffection, but from despair. While the expenses
of the war were carried on by emissions of continental money,
any set of men, in government, might carry it on. The means
being provided to their hands, required no great exertions of
fortitude or wisdom ; but when this means failed, they would
have failed with it, had not a public spirit awakened itselL
with energy out of doors. It was easy times to the govern
ments while continental money lasted. The dream of wealth
supplied the reality of it ; but when the dream vanished, the
government did not awake.
But what right has the government to expect any emolu
ment from the bank ? Does the committee mean to set up
acts and charters for sale, or what do they mean ? Because
it is the practice of the British ministry to grind a toll out
of every public institution they can get a power over, is the
same practice to be followed here ?
The war being now ended, and the bank having rendered
the service expected, or rather hoped for, from it, the prin
cipal public use of it, at this time, is for the promotion and
extension of commerce. The whole community derives
benefit from the operation of the bank. It facilitates the
commerce of the country. It quickens the means of pur
chasing and paying for country produce, and hastens on the
exportation of it. The emolument, therefore, being to the
community, it is the office and duty of government to give
protection to the bank.
Among many of the principal conveniences arising from
the bank, one of them is, that it gives a kind of life to, what
would otherwise be, dead money. Every merchant and per
son in trade, has always in his hands some quantity of cash,
which constantly remains with him ; that is, he is never en
tirely without : this remnant money, as it may be called, is
of no use to him till more is collected to it. — He can neither

l68 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
buy produce nor merchandize with it, and this being the case
with every person in trade, there will be (though not all at
the same time) as many of those sums lying uselessly by, and
scattered throughout the city, as there are persons in trade,
besides many that are not in trade.
I should not suppose the estimate overrated, in conjectur
ing, that half the money in the city, at any one time, lies in
this manner. By collecting those scattered sums together,
which is done by means of the bank, they become capable of
being used, and the quantity of circulating cash is doubled,
and by the depositors alternately lending them to each other,
the commercial system is invigorated : and as it is the in
terest of the bank to preserve this money in the country for
domestic uses only, and as it has the best opportunity of
doing so, the bank serves as a sentinel over the specie.
If a farmer, or a miller, comes to the city with produce,
there are but few merchants that can individually purchase
it with ready money of their own ; and those few would
command nearly the whole market for country produce ; but,
by means of the bank, this monopoly is prevented, and the
chance of the market enlarged. It is very extraordinary
that the late assembly should promote monopolizing; yet
such would be the effect of suppressing the bank ; and it is
much to the honour of those merchants, who are capable by
their fortunes of becoming monopolizers, that they sup
port the bank. In this case, honour operates over interest.
They were the persons who first set up the bank, and their
honour is now engaged to support what it is their interest to
put down.
If merchants, by this means, or farmers, by similar means,
among themselves, can mutually aid and support each
other, what has the government to do with it ? What right
has it to expect emolument from associated industry, more
than from individual industry ? It would be a strange sort
of government, that should make it illegal for people to as
sist each other, or pay a tribute for doing so.
But the truth is, that the government has already derived
emoluments, and very extraordinary ones. It has already

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 69
received its full share, by the services of the bank during
the war ; and it is every day receiving benefits, because what
ever promotes and facilitates commerce, serves likewise to
promote and facilitate the revenue.
The last article in this paragraph is, " that the bank is not
the least dependant on the government."
Have the committee so soon forgotten the principles of re
publican government, and the constitution, or are they so
little acquainted with them, as not to know, that this article
in their report partakes of the nature of treason ? Do they
not know, that freedom is destroyed by dependance, and the
safety of the state endangered thereby ? Do they not see,
that to hold any part of the citizens of the state, as yearly
pensioners on the favour of an assembly, is striking at the
root of free elections ?
If other parts of their report discover a want of knowledge
on the subject of banks, this shows a want of principle in the
science of government.
Only let us suppose this dangerous idea carried into prac
tice, and then see what it leads to. If corporate bodies are,
after their incorporation, to be annually dependant on an
assembly for the continuance of their charter, the citizens
which compose those corporations, are not free. The gov
ernment holds an authority and influence over them, in a
manner different from what it does over other citizens, and
by this means destroys that equality of freedom, which is
the bulwark of the republic and the constitution.
By this scheme of government any party, which happens
to be uppermost in a state, will command all the corpora
tions in it, and may create more for the purpose of extend
ing that influence. The dependant borough towns in
England are the rotten parts of their government and this
idea of the committee has a very near relation to it.
" If you do not do so and so," expressing what was meant,
" take care of your charter," was a threat thrown out against
the bank. But as I do not wish to enlarge on a disagree
able circumstance, and hope that what is already said is
sufficient to show the anti-constitutional conduct and prin-

170 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
ciples of the committee, I shall pass on to the next paragraph
in the report. — Which is —
" That the great profits of the bank, which will daily in
crease as money grows scarcer, and which already far exceeds
the profits of European banks, have tempted foreigners to
vest their money in this bank, and thus to draw from us
large sums for interest."
Had the committee understood the subject, some depend
ance might be put on their opinion which now cannot.
Whether money will grow scarcer, and whether the profits
of the bank will increase, are more than the committee know,
or are judges sufficient to guess at. The committee are not
so capable of taking care of commerce, as commerce is
capable of taking care of itself. The farmer understands
farming, and the merchant understands commerce ; and as
riches are equally the object of both, there is no occasion
that either should fear that the other will seek to be poor.
The more money the merchant has, so much the better for
the farmer who has produce to sell ; and the richer the
farmer is, so much the better for the merchant, when he
comes to his store.
As to the profits of the bank, the stockholders must take
their chance for it. It may some years be more and others
less, and upon the whole may mot be so productive as many
other ways that money may be employed. It is the con
venience which the stockholders, as commercial men, derive
from the establishment of the bank, and not the mere in
terest they receive, that is the inducement to them. It is
the ready opportunity of borrowing alternately of each other
that forms the principal object : and as they pay as well
as receive a great part of the interest among themselves, it
is nearly the same thing, both cases considered at once,
whether it is more or less.
The stockholders are occasionally depositors and some
times borrowers of the bank. They pay interest for what
they borrow, and receive none for what they deposit ; and
were a stockholder to keep a nice account of the interest he
pays for the one and loses on the other, he would find, at

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 171
the year's end, that ten per cent, on his stock would proba
bly not be more than common interest on the whole, if so
much. As to the committee complaining " that foreigners by
vesting their money in the bank will draw large sums from
us for interest," it is like a miller complaining, in a dry
season, that so much water runs into his dam some of it runs
over. Could those foreigners draw this interest without putting
in any capital, the complaint would be well founded ; but as
they must first put money in before they can draw any out,
as they must draw many years before they can draw even the
numerical sum they put in at first, the effect for at least
twenty years to come, will be directly contrary to what the
committee states ; because we draw capital from them and
they only interest from us, and as we shall have the use of
the money all the while it remains with us, the advan
tage will always be in our favour. — In framing this part of
the report, the committee must have forgotten which side
of the Atlantic they were on, for the case would be as they
state it if we put money into their bank instead of their put
ting it into ours.
I have now gone through, line by line, every objection
against the bank, contained in the first half of the report ;
what follows may be called, The lamentations of the committee,
and a lamentable, pusillanimous, degrading thing it is. — It
is a public affront, a reflection upon the sense and spirit of
the whole country. I shall give the remainder together, as
it stands in the report, and then my remarks. The lamen
tations are :
" That foreigners will doubtless be more and more induced to
become stock holders, until the time may arrive when this enor
mous engine of power may become subject to foreign influence,
this country may be agitated by the politics of European courts,
and the good people of America reduced once more into a state
of subordination and dependance upon some one or other of the
European powers. That at best, if it were even confined to the
hands of Americans, it would be totally destructive of that equality

172 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
which ought to prevail in a republic. We have nothing in our
free and equal government capable of balancing the influence
which this bank must create ; and we see nothing which in the
course of a few years can prevent the directors of the bank from.
governing Pennsylvania. Already we have felt its influence in
directly interfering in the measures of the legislature. Already
the house of asembly, the representatives of the people, have been
threatened, that the credit of our paper currency will be blasted
by the bank ; and if this growing evil continues, we fear the time
is not very distant when the bank will be able to dictate to the
legislature, what laws to pass and what to forbear."
When the sky falls we shall all be killed. There is some
thing so ridiculously grave, so wide of probability, and so
wild, confused and inconsistent in the whole composition of
this long paragraph, that I am at a loss how to begin upon
it. — It is like a drowning man crying fire ! fire !
This part of the report is made up of two dreadful pre
dictions. The first is, that if foreigners purchase bank stock,
we shall be all ruined ; — the second is, that if the Americans
keep the bank to themselves, we shall be also ruined.
A committee of fortune-tellers is a novelty in government,
and the gentlemen, by giving this specimen of their art, have
ingeniously saved their honour on one point, which is, that
though the people may say they are not bankers, nobody
can say they are not conjurors. — There is, however, one con
solation left, which is, that the committee do not know exactly
how long it may be ; so there is some hope that we may all
be in heaven when this dreadful calamity happens upon
earth. But to be serious, if any seriousness is necessary on so
laughable a subject. — If the state should think there is any
thing improper in foreigners purchasing bank stock, or any
other kind of stock or funded property (for I see no reason
why bank stock should be particularly pointed at) the legis
lature have authority to prohibit it. It is a mere political
opinion that has nothing to do with the charter, or the charter
with that ; and therefore the first dreadful prediction vanishes.
It has always been a maxim in politics, founded on, and

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 1 73
drawn from, natural causes and consequences, that the more
foreign countries which any nation can interest in the prosper
ity of its own, so much the better. Where the treasure is, there
will the heart be also ; and therefore when foreigners vest
their money with us, they naturally invest their good wishes
with it ; and it is we that obtain an influence over them, not
they over us. — But the committee set out so very wrong at
first, that the further they travelled, the more they were out
of their way ; and now they have got to the end of their
report, they are at the utmost distance from their business.
As to the second dreadful part, that of the bank overturn
ing the government, perhaps the committee meant that at
the next general election themselves might be turned out of
it, which has partly been the case ; not by the influence of
the bank, for it had none, not even enough to obtain the
permission of a hearing from government, but by the influence
of reason and the choice of the people, who most probably
resent the undue and unconstitutional influence which that
house and committee were assuming over the privileges of
citizenship. The committee might have been so modest as to have
confined themselves to the bank, and not thrown a general
odium on the whole country. Before the events can happen
which the committee predict, the electors of Pennsylvania
must become dupes, dunces, and cowards, and, therefore,
when the committee predict the dominion of the bank they
predict the disgrace of the people.
The committee having finished their report, proceed to
give their advice, which is,
" That a committee be appointed to bring in a bill to repeal the
act of assembly passed the first day of April, 1782, entitled, 'An
act to incorporate the subscribers to the bank of North-America,'
and also to repeal one other act of the assembly passed the 18th
of March, 1782, entitled, 'An act for preventing and punishing
the counterfeiting of the common seal, bank-bills and bank notes
of the president, directors and company of the bank of North-
America, and for other purposes therein mentioned.' "

174 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
There is something in this sequel to the report that is per
plexed and obscure.
Here are two acts to be repealed. One is, the incorporat
ing act. The other, the act for preventing and punishing
the counterfeiting of the common seal, bank bills, and bank
notes of the president, directors and company of the bank of
North-America. It would appear from the committee's manner of arranging
them (were it not for the difference of their dates) that the
act for punishing the counterfeiting the common seal, etc. of
the bank, followed the act of incorporation, and that the com
mon seal there referred to is a common seal which the bank
held in consequence of the aforesaid incorporating act. — But
the case is quite otherwise. The act for punishing the coun
terfeiting the common seal, etc. of the bank, was passed prior
to the incorporating act, and refers to the common seal which
the bank held in consequence of the charter of congress,
and the style which the act expresses, of president, directors
and company of the bank of North-America, is the corporate
style which the bank derives under the congress charter.
The punishing act, therefore, hath two distinct legal points.
The one is, an authoritative public recognition of the charter
of congress. The second is, the punishment it inflicts on
counterfeiting. The legislature may repeal the punishing part, but it can
not undo the recognition, because no repealing act can say
that the state has not recognized. The recognition is a mere
matter of fact, and no law or act can undo a fact, or put it, if
I may so express it, in the condition it was before it existed.
The repealing act therefore does not reach the full point the
committee had in view ; for even admitting it to be a repeal
of the state charter, it still leaves another charter recognized
in its stead. — The charter of congress, standing merely on
itself, would have a doubtful authority, but recognition of it
by the state gives it legal ability. The repealing act, it is
true sets aside the punishment, but does not bar the operation
of the charter of congress as a charter recognized by the state,
and therefore the committee did their business but by halves.

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 175
I have now gone entirely through the report of the
committee, and a more irrational, inconsistent, contradictory
report will scarcely be found on the journals of any legislature
of America.
How the repealing act is to be applied, or in what manner
it is to operate, is a matter yet to be determined. For ad
mitting a question of law to arise, whether the charter, which
that act attempts to repeal, is a law of the land in the manner
which laws of universal operation are, or of the nature of a
contract made between the public and the bank, (as I have
already explained in this work,) the repealing act does not
and cannot decide the question, because it is the repealing
act that makes the question, and its own fate is involved in
the decision. It is a question of law and not a question of
legislation, and must be decided on in a court of justice and
not by a house of assembly.
But the repealing act, by being passed prior to the decision
of this point, assumes the power of deciding it, and the
assembly in so doing erects itself unconstitutionally into a
tribunal of judicature, and absorbs the authority and right
of the courts of justice into itself.
Therefore the operation of the repealing act, in its
very outset, requires injustice to be done. For it is im
possible on the principles of a republican government and
the constitution, to pass an act to forbid any of the citi
zens the right of appealing to the courts of justice on any
matter in which his interest or property is affected ; but
the first operation of this act goes to shut up the courts
of justice and holds them subservient to the assembly.
It either commands or influences them not to hear the
case, or to give judgment on it on the mere will of one
party only.
I wish the citizens to awaken themselves on this subject.
Not because the bank is concerned, but because their own
constitutional rights and privileges are involved in the event.
It is a question of exceeding great magnitude ; for if an as
sembly is to have this power, the laws of the land and the
courts of justice are but of little use.

176 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
Having now finished with the report, I proceed to the
third and last subject — that of paper money.
I remember a German farmer expressing as much in a few
words as the whole subject requires ; " money is money, and
paper is paper." — All the invention of man cannot make them
otherwise. The alchymist may cease his labours, and the
hunter after the philosopher's stone go to rest, if paper can
be metamorphosed into gold and silver, or made to answer the
same purpose in all cases.
Gold and silver are the emissions of nature : paper is the
emission of art. The value of gold and silver is ascertained
by the quantity which nature has made in the earth. We
cannot make that quantity more or less than it is, and there
fore the value being dependant upon the quantity, depends
not on man. — Man has no share in making gold or silver ; all
that his labours and ingenuity can accomplish is, to collect it
from the mine, refine it for use and give it an impression, or
stamp it into coin.
Its being stamped into coin adds considerably to its con
venience but nothing to its value. It has then no more value
than it had before. Its value is not in the impression but
in itself. Take away the impression and still the same value
remains. Alter it as you will, or expose it to any misfortune
that can happen, still the value is not diminished. It has
a capacity to resist the accidents that destroy other things.
It has, therefore, all the requisite qualities that money can
have, and is a fit material to make money of ; and nothing
which has not all those properties, can be fit for the purpose
of money.
Paper, considered as a material whereof to make money,
has none of the requisite qualities in it. It is too plentiful,
and too easily come at. It can be had any where, and for
a trifle. There are two ways in which I shall consider paper.
The only proper use for paper, in the room of money, is
to write promissory notes and obligations of payment in
specie upon. A piece of paper, thus written and signed, is
worth the sum it is given for, if the person who gives it is

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 177
able to pay it ; because in this case, the law will oblige him.
But if he is worth nothing, the paper note is worth nothing.
The value, therefore, of such a note, is not in the note itself,
for that is but paper and promise, but in the man who is
obliged to redeem it with gold or silver.
Paper, circulating in this manner, and for this purpose, con
tinually points to the place and person where, and of whom,
the money is to be had, and at last finds its home ; and, as
it were, unlocks its master's chest and pays the bearer.
But when an assembly undertake to issue paper as money,
the whole system of safety and certainty is overturned, and
property set afloat. Paper notes given and taken between
individuals as a promise of payment is one thing, but paper
issued by an assembly as money is another thing. It is like
putting an apparition in the place of a man ; it vanishes
with looking at it, and nothing remains but the air.
Money, when considered as the fruit of many years industry,
as the reward of labour, sweat and toil, as the widow's dowry
and children's portion, and as the means of procuring the
necessaries and alleviating the afflictions of life, and making
old age a scene of rest, has something in it sacred that is not
to be sported with, or trusted to the airy bubble of paper
currency. By what power or authority an assembly undertakes to
make paper money, is difficult to say. It derives none from
the constitution, for that is silent on the subject. It is one
of those things which the people have not delegated, and
which, were they at any time assembled together, they would
not delegate. It is, therefore, an assumption of power which
an assembly is not warranted in, and which may, one day or
other, be the means of bringing some of them to punishment.
I shall enumerate some of the evils of paper money and
conclude with offering means for preventing them.
One of the evils of paper money is, that it turns the whole
country into stock jobbers. The precariousness of its value
and the uncertainty of its fate continually operate, night and
day, to produce this destructive effect. Having no real value
in itself it depends for support upon accident, caprice and

VOL. II. — 12

178 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
party, and as it is the interest of some to depreciate and of
others to raise its value, there is a continual invention going
on that destroys the morals of the country.
It was horrid to see, and hurtful to recollect, how loose the
principles of justice were left, by means of the paper emis
sions during the war. The experience then had, should be
a warning to any assembly how they venture to open such
a dangerous door again.
As to the romantic, if not hypocritical, tale that a virtuous
people need no gold and silver, and that paper will do as
well, it requires no other contradiction than the experience
we have seen. Though some well meaning people may be
inclined to view it in this light, it is certain that the sharper
always talks this language.
There are a set of men who go about making purchases
upon credit, and buying estates they have not wherewithal
to pay for ; and having done this, their next step is to fill
the newspapers with paragraphs of the scarcity of money
and the necessity of a paper emission, then to have a legal
tender under the pretence of supporting its credit, and when
out, to depreciate it as fast as they can, get a deal of it for a
little price, and cheat their creditors ; and this is the concise
history of paper money schemes.
But why, since the universal custom of the world has
established money as the most convenient medium of traffic
and commerce, should paper be set up in preference to gold
and silver ? The productions of nature are surely as inno
cent as those of art ; and in the case of money, are abun
dantly, if not infinitely, more so. The love of gold and
silver may produce covetousness, but covetousness, when
not connected with dishonesty, is not properly a vice. It
is frugality run to an extreme.
But the evils of paper money have no end. Its uncertain
and fluctuating value is continually awakening or creating
new sehemes of deceit. Every principle of justice is put to
the rack, and the bond of society dissolved : the suppression,
therefore, of paper money might very properly have been
put into the act for preventing vice and immorality.

X786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 179
The pretence for paper money has been, that there was
not a sufficiency of gold and silver. This, so far from being
a reason for paper emissions, is a reason against them.
As gold and silver are not the productions of North
America, they are, therefore, articles of importation ; and if
we set up a paper manufactory of money, it amounts, as far
as it is able, to prevent the importation of hard money, or
to send it out again as fast as it comes in ; and by following
this practice we shall continually banish the specie, till we
have none left, and be continually complaining of the griev
ance instead of remedying the cause.
Considering gold and silver as articles of importation, there
will in time, unless we prevent it by paper emissions, be
as much in the country as the occasions of it require, for the
same reasons there are as much of other imported articles.
But as every yard of cloth manufactured in the country occa
sions a yard the less to be imported, so it is by money, with
this difference, that in the one case we manufacture the thing
itself and in the other we do not. We have cloth for cloth,
but we have only paper dollars for silver ones.
As to the assumed authority of any assembly in making
paper money, or paper of any kind, a legal tender, or in
other language, a compulsive payment, it is a most presumpt
uous attempt at arbitrary power. There can be no such
power in a republican government : the people have no free
dom, and property no security where this practice can be
acted : and the committee who shall bring in a report for
this purpose, or the member who moves for it, and he who
seconds it merit impeachment, and sooner or later may
expect it.
Of all the various sorts of base coin, paper money is the
basest. It has the least intrinsic value of any thing that can
be put in the place of gold and silver. A hobnail or a piece
of wampum far exceeds it. And there would be more pro
priety in making those articles a legal tender than to make
paper so.
It was the issuing base coin, and establishing it as a
tender, that was one of the principal means of finally over-

180 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
throwing the power of the Stuart family in Ireland. The
article is worth reciting as it bears such a resemblance to the
process practised in paper money.
" Brass and copper of the basest kind, old cannon, broken bells,
household utensils were assiduously collected ; and from every
pound weight of such vile materials, valued at four-pence, pieces
were coined and circulated to the amount of five pounds normal
value. By the first proclamation they were made current in all
payments to and from the king and the subjects of the realm, ex
cept in duties on the importation of foreign goods, money left in
trust, or due by mortgage, bills or bonds ; and James promised
that when the money should be decried, he would receive it in all
payments, or make full satisfaction in gold and silver. The nomi
nal value was afterwards raised by subsequent proclamations, the
original restrictions removed, and this base money was ordered to
be received in all kinds of payments. As brass and copper grew
scarce, it was made of still viler materials, of tin and pewter, and
old debts of one thousand pounds were discharged by pieces of
vile metal amounting to thirty shillings in intrinsic value." *
Had king James thought of paper, he needed not to have
been at the trouble or expense of collecting brass and copper,
broken bells, and household utensils.
The laws of a country ought to be the standard of equity,
and calculated to impress on the minds of the people the
moral as well as the legal obligations of reciprocal justice.
But tender laws, of any kind, operate to destroy morality,
and to dissolve, by the pretence of law, what ought to be
the principle of law to support, reciprocal justice between
man and man : and the punishment of a member who should
move for such a law ought to be death!
When the recommendation of congress, in the year 1780,
for repealing the tender laws was before the assembly of
Pennsylvania, on casting up the votes, for and against bring
ing in a bill to repeal those laws, the numbers were equal,
* Leland's History of Ireland, vol. iv. p. 265. — Author.
1 It is a curious indication of the tension caused by the bank controversy that
a man of Quaker training could make such a statement as the above. A few
years later Paine is found advocating abolition of the death-penalty, even fcr
treason against the state, for which some would reserve it. — Editor.

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. l8l
and the casting vote rested on the speaker, colonel Bayard.
" I give my vote," said he, " for the repeal, from a conscious
ness of justice ; the tender laws operate to establish iniquity
by law." But when the bill was brought in, the house re
jected it, and the tender laws continued to be the means of
fraud. If any thing had, or could have, a value equal to gold and
silver, it would require no tender law : and if it had not that
value it ought not to have such a law ; and, therefore, all
tender laws are tyrannical and unjust, and calculated to sup
port fraud and oppression.
Most of the advocates for tender laws are those who have
debts to discharge, and who take refuge in such a law, to
violate their contracts and cheat their creditors. But as no
law can warrant the doing an unlawful act, therefore the
proper mode of proceeding, should any such laws be enacted
in future, will be to impeach and execute the members who
moved for and seconded such a bill, and put the debtor and
the creditor in the same situation they were in, with respect
to each other, before such a law was passed. Men ought to be
made to tremble at the idea of such a barefaced act of in
justice. It is in vain to talk of restoring credit, or com
plain that money cannot be borrowed at legal interest, until
every idea of tender laws is totally and publicly reprobated
and extirpated from among us.
As to paper money, in any light it can be viewed, it is at
best a bubble. Considered as property, it is inconsistent to
suppose that the breath of an assembly, whose authority ex
pires with the year, can give to paper the value and duration
of gold. They cannot even engage that the next assembly
shall receive it in taxes. And by the precedent, (for authority
there is none,) that one assembly makes paper money, another
may do the same, until confidence and credit are totally ex
pelled, and all the evils of depreciation acted over again.
The amount, therefore, of paper money is this, that it is the
illegitimate offspring of assemblies, and when their year ex
pires, they leave a vagrant on the hands of the public.
Having now gone through the three subjects proposed in

182 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
the title to this work, I shall conclude with offering some
thoughts on the present affairs of the state.
My idea of a single legislature was always founded on a
hope, that whatever personal parties there might be in the
state, they would all unite and agree in the general principles
of good government — that these party differences would be
dropped at the threshold of the statehouse, and that the
public good, or the good of the whole, would be the govern
ing principle of the legislature within it.
Party dispute, taken on this ground, would only be, who
should have the honour of making the laws ; not what the
laws should be. But when party operates to produce party
laws, a single house is a single person, and subject to the
haste, rashness and passion of individual sovereignty. At
least, it is an aristocracy.
The form of the present constitution is now made to
trample on its principles, and the constitutional members are
anti-constitutional legislators. They are fond of supporting
the form for the sake of the power, and they dethrone the
principle to display the sceptre.
The attack of the late assembly on the bank, discovers
such a want of moderation and prudence, of impartiality and
equity, of fair and candid inquiry and investigation, of delib
erate and unbiassed judgment, and such a rashness of think
ing and vengeance of power, as is inconsistent with the safety
of the republic. It was judging without hearing, and exe
cuting without trial.
By such rash, injudicious and violent proceedings, the
interest of the state is weakened, its prosperity diminished,
and its commerce and its specie banished to other places.
Suppose the bank had not been in an immediate condition
to have stood such a sudden attack, what a scene of instant
distress would the rashness of that assembly have brought
upon this city and state. The holders of bank notes, whoever
they might be, would have been thrown into the utmost
confusion and difficulties. It is no apology to say the house
never thought of this, for it was their duty to have thought
of every thing.

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 183
But by the prudent and provident management of the
bank, (though unsuspicious of the attack,) it was enabled to
stand the run upon it without stopping payment a moment,
and to prevent the evils and mischiefs taking place which
the rashness of the assembly had a direct tendency to bring
on ; a trial that scarcely a bank in Europe, under a similar
circumstance, could have withstood.
I cannot see reason sufficient to believe that the hope of
the house to put down the bank was placed on the with
drawing the charter, so much as on the expectation of
producing a bankruptcy of the bank, by starting a run upon
it. If this was any part of their project it was a very wicked
one, because hundreds might have been ruined to gratify a
party spleen.
But this not being the case, what has the attack amounted
to, but to expose the weakness and rashness, the want of
judgment as well as justice, of those who made it, and to
confirm the credit of the bank more substantially than it was
before ?
The attack, it is true, has had one effect, which is not in
the power of the assembly to remedy ; it has banished many
thousand hard dollars from the state. By the means of the
bank, Pennsylvania had the use of a great deal of hard money
belonging to citizens of other states, and that without any
interest, for it laid here in the nature of deposit, the depos
itors taking bank notes in its stead. But the alarm called
those notes in and the owners drew out their cash.
The banishing the specie served to make room for the
paper money of the assembly, and we have now paper
dollars where we might have had silver ones. So that the
effect of the paper money has been to make less money in
the state than there was before.' Paper money is like dram-
drinking, it relieves for a moment by deceitful sensation, but
gradually diminishes the natural heat, and leaves the body
1 The reader may be reminded of the humorous scene in Goethe's " Faust,"
Part Second, where Mephistopheles fills the empty Treasury by simple expedient
of a printing-press, and the Court fool shows his sagacity by hastening to spend
all the paper money he possesses. — Editor

184 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
worse than it found it. Were not this the case, and could
money be made of paper at pleasure, every sovereign in
Europe would be as rich as he pleased. But the truth is,
that it is a bubble and the attempt vanity. Nature has
provided the proper materials for money, gold and silver,
and any attempt of ours to rival her is ridiculous.
But to conclude. If the public will permit the opinion of
a friend who is attached to no party, and under obligation
to none, nor at variance with any, and who through a longhabit
of acquaintance with them has never deceived them, that
opinion shall be freely given.
The bank is an institution capable of being made exceed
ingly beneficial to the state, not only as the means of
extending and facilitating its commerce, but as a means of
increasing the quantity of hard money in the state. The
assembly's paper money serves directly to banish or crowd
out the hard, because it is issued as money and put in the
place of hard money. But bank notes are of a very different
kind, and produce a contrary effect. They are promissory
notes payable on demand, and may be taken to the bank
and exchanged for gold or silver without the least ceremony
or difficulty.
The bank, therefore, is obliged to keep a constant stock of
hard money sufficient for this purpose ; which is what the
assembly neither does, nor can do by their paper; because
the quantity of hard money collected by taxes into the
treasury is trifling compared with the quantity that circulates
in trade and through the bank.
The method, therefore, to increase the quantity of hard
money would be to combine the security of the government
and the bank into one. And instead of issuing paper money
that serves to banish the specie, to borrow the sum wanted
of the bank in bank notes, on the condition of the bank ex
changing those notes at stated periods and quantities, with
hard money.
Paper issued in this manner, and directed to this end, would,
instead of banishing, work itself into gold and silver ; because
it will then be both the advantage and duty of the bank,

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 185
and of all the mercantile interests connected with it, to procure
and import gold and silver from any part of the world, to
give in exchange for the notes. The English bank is restric
ted to the dealing in no other articles of importation than
gold and silver, and we may make the same use of our bank
if we proceed properly with it.
Those notes will then have a double security, that of the
government and that of the bank : and they will not be is
sued as money, but as hostages to be exchanged for hard
money, and will, therefore, work the contrary way to what
the paper of the assembly, uncombined with the security of
the bank, produces : and the interest allowed the bank will
be saved to government, by a saving of the expenses and
charges attending paper emissions.
It is, as I have already observed in the course of this work,
the harmony of all the parts of a republic, that constitutes
their several and mutual good. A government that is con
structed only to govern, is not a republican government.
It is combining authority with usefulness, that in a great
measure distinguishes the republican system from others.
Paper money appears, at first sight, to be a great saving,
or rather that it costs nothing ; but it is the dearest money
there is. The ease with which it is emitted by an assembly
at first, serves as a trap to catch people in at last. It oper
ates as an anticipation of the next year's taxes. If the
money depreciates, after it is out, it then, as I have already
remarked, has the effect of fluctuating stock, and the people
become stock-jobbers to throw the loss on each other. If it
does not depreciate, it is then to be sunk by taxes at the
price of hard money ; because the same quantity of produce,
or goods, that would procure a paper dollar to pay taxes
with, would procure a silver one for the same purpose.
Therefore, in any case of paper money, it is dearer to the
country than hard money, by all the expense which the paper,
printing, signing, and other attendant charges come to, and
at last goes into the fire.
Suppose one hundred thousand dollars in paper money to
be emitted every year by the assembly, and the same sum to

1 86 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1786
be sunk every year by taxes, there will then be no more than
one hundred thousand dollars out at any one time. If the
expense of paper and printing, and of persons to attend the
press while the sheets are striking off, signers, etc. be five per
cent, it is evident that in the course of twenty years' emis
sions, the one hundred thousand dollars will cost the country
two hundred thousand dollars. Because the papermaker's
and printer's bills, and the expense of supervisors and signers,
and other attendant charges, will in that time amount to as
much as the money amounts to ; for the successive emissions
are but a re-coinage of the same sum.
But gold and silver require to be coined but once, and will
last an hundred years, better than paper will one year, and
at the end of that time be still gold and silver. There
fore, the saving to government, in combining its aid and
security with that of the bank in procuring hard money, will
be an advantage to both, and to the whole community.
The case to be provided against, after this, will be, that
the government do not borrow too much of the bank, nor the
bank lend more notes than it can redeem ; and, therefore,
should any thing of this kind be undertaken, the best way
will be to begin with a moderate sum, and observe the effect
of it. The interest given the bank operates as a bounty on
the importation of hard money, and which may not be more
than the money expended in making paper emissions.
But nothing of this kind, nor any other public undertaking,
that requires security and duration beyond the year, can be
gone upon under the present mode of conducting govern
ment. The late assembly, by assuming a sovereign power
over every act and matter done by the state in former asr
semblies, and thereby setting up a precedent of overhauling,
and overturning, as the accident of elections shall happen or
party prevail, have rendered government incompetent to all
the great objects of the state. They have eventually reduced
the public to an annual body like themselves ; whereas the
public are a standing, permanent body, holding annual
elections. There are several great improvements and undertakings,

1786] DISSERTATIONS ON GOVERNMENT, ETC. 187
such as inland navigation, building bridges, opening roads of
communication through the state, and other matters of a
public benefit, that might be gone upon, but which now can
not, until this governmental error or defect is remedied.
The faith of government, under the present mode of con
ducting it, cannot be relied on. Individuals will not venture
their money in undertakings of this kind, on an act that may
be made by one assembly and broken by another. When a
man can say that he cannot trust the government, the im
portance and dignity of the public is diminished, sapped and
undermined ; and, therefore, it becomes the public to restore
their own honour by setting these matters to rights.
Perhaps this cannot be effectually done until the time of
the next convention, when the principles, on which they are
to be regulated and fixed, may be made a part of the consti
tution. In the mean time the public may keep their affairs in suf
ficient good order, by substituting prudence in the place of
authority, and electing men into the government, who will
at once throw aside the narrow prejudices of party, and make
the good of the whole the ruling object of their conduct.
And with this hope, and a sincere wish for their prosperity,
I close my book.1
1 It was generally admitted that Paine's pamphlet was the means of defeating
the Assembly's effort to repeal the charter of the Bank of North America, and
the author suffered some martyrdom in consequence. Dr. Franklin believed that
Paine could successfully deal with the subject and was not disappointed. See
my " Life of Paine," vol i., pp. 213, 215, and ii., p. 466.— Editor.

VII.
THE SOCIETY FOR POLITICAL INQUIRIES.1
The moral character and happiness of mankind are so in
terwoven with the operations of government, and the
progress of the arts and sciences is so dependent on the
nature of our political institutions, that it is essential to the
advancement of civilized society to give ample discussion
to these topics.
But important as these inquiries are to all, to the inhabi
tants of these republics they are objects of peculiar magni
tude and necessity. Accustomed to look up to those nations,
from whom we have derived our origin, for our laws, our
opinions, and our manners, we have retained with undistin-
guishing reverence their errors with their improvements ;
have blended with our public institutions the policy of
dissimilar countries ; and have grafted on an infant common
wealth the manners of ancient and corrupted monarchies.
In having effected a separate government, we have as yet
effected but a partial independance. The revolution can only
be said to be complete, when we shall have freed ourselves,
no less from the influence of foreign prejudices than from
the fetters of foreign power. When breaking through the
bounds, in which a dependent people have been accustomed
to think and act, we shall probably comprehend the character
1 Unpublished " Rules and Regulations of the Society for Political Inquiries,
established at Philadelphia, 9th Feb. 1787." This Society met at Dr. Franklin's
house, where Paine read a paper, described by William Rawle as "a well-
written dissertation on the inexpediency of incorporating towns." The paper
was no doubt used in " Rights of Man," ii., ch. 5. Several passages in the same
work suggest Paine's probable authorship of the above Preamble. — Editor.
188

1787] THE SOCIETY FOR POLITICAL INQUIRIES. 1 89
we have assumed and adopt those maxims of policy, which
are suited to our new situation. While objects of subor
dinate importance have employed the associated labours of
learned and ingenious men, the arduous and complicated
science of government has been generally left to the care of
practical politicians, or the speculations of individual theorists.
From a desire of supplying this deficiency, and of promoting
the welfare of our country, it is now proposed to establish a
society for mutual improvement in the knowledge of govern
ment, and for the advancement of political science.
With these views, the subscribers associate themselves
under the title of The Society for Political Inquiries,
and under the following laws and regulations.
LAWS AND REGULATIONS.
I. This Society shall consist of fifty residing members, and
shall meet every Friday fortnight, at half past six o'clock in the
evening (the chair to be taken precisely, at seven) except during
the months of June, July, August and September, when their
meetings shall be discontinued.
II. There shall be a president, two vice-presidents, a treasurer,
and two secretaries, who shall be elected annually by ballot on the
second Friday in February.
III. Persons residing at a distance shall be eligible into the
Society as honorary members, but shall not be entitled to the
privilege of electing.
IV. Every candidate for admission shall be proposed by at
least two residing members, who shall give in his name in writing
with their own subscribed to it. After which one of the acting
secretaries shall read aloud the name of the candidate as well as
of the nominating members, at two successive meetings previous
to the election.
V. Every election shall be conducted by ballot, twelve mem
bers at least being present ; and the votes of three-fourths of the
number present, shall be necessary to the admission of the
candidate. VI. Each residing member shall pay twenty shillings on his
admission, as well as fifteen shillings annually, towards the ex
pences of the Society.
VII. A committee of papers shall be appointed annually by

190 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
ballot, on the same evening that the officers of the Society are
elected. This committee shall consist of the president, vice-presi
dents, and six other members of the Society, and shall decide on
the propriety of reading or publishing any paper which shall be
presented to the Society. But they shall not proceed to any deci
sion unless five of their number are present. Nor shall any essay,
or the name of its author be published, without previously obtain
ing his consent.
VIII. The attention of the Society shall be confined to sub
jects of government and political (economy. And members having
any essays, facts, or observations on these subjects, that they wish
to have read in the Society, or any political queries that they may
be desirous of having discussed in conversation, shall give the
same into the hands of the president or vice-president who shall
communicate the same to the Committee of papers and take
order thereon.
IX. The president or vice-president shall announce to the
Society, what papers are to be read, and what subjects to be dis
cussed at their next meeting.
X. A fair record shall be kept of the proceedings of the So
ciety, which shall be open to the inspection of the members.
XI. Medals shall be adjudged at the discretion of the Society
to the authors (whether members or not) of the best essays upon
such subjects as the Society may propose for that purpose. The
votes in these cases shall be taken by ballot.
XII. If any person to whom a medal shall be adjudged, should
not be a member of the Society, he shall be included in the list of
honorary members.
XIII. The president or vice-president shall have power to call
at any time a special meeting of the Society.
XIV. The Society shall be subject to such laws and regulations
as shall be made from time to time. But no laws shall be enacted,
rescinded or altered without the presence of twelve members, and
without the consent of three-fourths of the number present : Nor
shall any such measures be proposed, without notice has been
previously given at two successive meetings of the alterations or
additions intended to be made.
XV. There shall be a penalty of one shilling paid by every
member not attending at any meeting, either stated or special,
provided he be not out of town or confined by sickness.

VIII.
PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON:
OR AN INVESTIGATION INTO THE CAUSES AND CONSE
QUENCES OF THE POLITICS TO BE AGITATED AT
THE NEXT MEETING OF PARLIAMENT.1

PREFACE.

An expression in the British parliament respecting the
American war, alluding to Julius Csesar having passed the
Rubicon, has on several occasions introduced that river as
the figurative river of war.
Fortunately for England, she is yet on the peaceable side
of the Rubicon ; but as the flames once kindled are not
always easily extinguished, the hopes of peace are not so
clear as before the late mysterious dispute began.
But while the calm lasts, it may answer a very good pur
pose to take a view of the prospects, consistent with the
maxim, that he that goeth to war should first sit down and
count the cost.
The nation has a young and ambitious Minister at its head,
fond of himself, and deficient in experience : and instances
have often shown that judgment is a different thing from
] This pamphlet was written in Paris, where Paine arrived from America in
May, 1787, and where he was in constant intercourse with Jefferson (United
States Minister), Condorcet, Lafayette, Cardinal De Brienne, and other eminent
men. The date, August 20, is no doubt that of the conclusion of the manuscript,
for he arrived in London September 3 ; but much was probably added to the
proofs, which were read at his mother's home in Thetford. The house is in
Guildhall Street (then Heathenman), now (1894) occupied by Mr. Brett. Dr.
Robinet and others have remarked in this pamphlet the prevision of an approach
ing revolution in France. — Editor. 191

192 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
genius, and that the affairs of a nation are but unsafely
trusted where the benefit of experience is wanting.
Illustrations have been drawn from the circumstances of
the war before last to decorate the character of the present
Minister, and, perhaps, they may have been greatly over
drawn ; for the management must have been bad to have
done less than what was then done, when we impartially
consider the means, the force, and the money employed.
It was then Great Britain and America against France
singly, for Spain did not join till near the end of the war.
The great number of troops which the American colonies
then raised and paid themselves, were sufficient to turn the
scale, if all other parts had been equal. France had not at
that time attended to naval affairs so much as she has done
since ; and the capture of French sailors before any declara
tion of war was made, which, however it may be justified
upon policy, will always be ranked among the clandestine
arts of war, assured a certain, but unfair advantage against
her, because it was like a man administering a disabling dose
over night to the person whom he intends to challenge in
the morning.
The Author.

PUBLISHER S NOTE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION OF 1793.
This pamphlet was written by Mr. Paine in the year 1787, on one of Mr.
Pitt's armaments, namely, that against Holland. His object was to prevent the
people of England from being seduced into a war, by stating clearly to them
the consequences which would inevitably befall the credit of this country should
such a calamity take place. The minister has at length, however, succeeded in
his great project, after three expensive armaments in the space of seven years ;
and the event has proved how well founded were the predictions of Mr. Paine.
The person who has the authority to bring forward this pamphlet in its present
shape, thinks his doing so a duty which he owes both to Mr. P  and the
people of England, in order that the latter may judge what credit is due to (what
a great judge calls) the wild theories of Mr. Paine.

PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON.
RIGHT by chance and wrong by system are things so fre
quently seen in the political world, that it becomes a proof
of prudence neither to censure nor applaud too soon.
" The Rubicon is passed," was once given as a reason for
prosecuting the most expensive war that England ever
knew. Sore with the event, and groaning beneath a galling
- yoke of taxes, she has again been led ministerially on to the
shore of the same delusive and fatal river, without being
permitted to know the object or the reason why.
Expensive preparations have been gone into ; fears,
alarms, dangers, apprehensions, have been mistically held
forth, as if the existence of the nation was at stake, and at
last the mountain has brought forth a Dutch mouse.
Whoever will candidly review the present national charac
ters of England and France, cannot but be struck with sur
prize at the change that is taking place. The people of
France are beginning to think for themselves, and the people
of England are resigning up the privilege of thinking.
The affairs of Holland have been the bubble of the day ;
and a tax is to be laid on shoes and boots (so say the news
papers) for the service of the Stadtholder of Holland. This
will undoubtedly do honour to the nation, by veryfying the
old English proverb, " Over shoes, over boots."
But tho' Democritus could scarcely have forborne laughing
at the folly, yet, as serious argument and sound reasoning
are preferable to ridicule, it will be best to quit the vein of
unprofitable humour, and give the cause a fair investigation.
But before we do this, it may not be improper to take a
general review of sundry political matters that will naturally
lead to a better understanding of the subject.
193

I94 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
What has been the event of all the wars of England, but
an amazing accumulation of debt, and an unparalleled bur-
( den of taxes ? Sometimes the pretence has been to support
one outlandish cause, and sometimes another. At one time
Austria, at another time Prussia, another to oppose Russia,
and so on ; but the consequence has always been TAXES. A
few men have enriched themselves by jobs and contracts,
and the groaning multitude bore the burthen. What has
England gained by war since the year 1738, only fifty years
ago, to recompence her for two hundred millions ster
ling, incurred as a debt within that time, and under the
annual interest of which, besides what was incurred before,
she is now groaning? Nothing at all.
p^ The glare of fancied glory has often been held up, and the
shadowy recompence imposed itself upon the senses. Wars
that might have been prevented have been madly gone into,
and the end has been debt and discontent. A sort of some
thing which man cannot account for is mixed in his composi
tion, and renders him the subject of deception by the very
means he takes not to be deceived.
That jealousy which individuals of every nation feel at
the supposed design of foreign powers, fits them to be the
prey of Ministers, and of those among themselves whose
trade is war, or whose livelihood is jobs and contracts.
" Confusion to the politics of Europe, and may every nation
be at war in six months," was a toast given in my hearing not
long since. — The man was in court to the Ministry for a job.
— Ye gentle Graces, if any such there be who preside over
human actions, how must ye weep at the viciousness
of man !
When we consider, for the feelings of Nature cannot be
dismissed, the calamities of war and the miseries it inflicts
upon the human species, the thousands and tens of thou
sands of every age and sex who are rendered wretched by
the event, surely there is something in the heart of man that
calls upon him to think ! Surely there is some tender chord
tuned by the hand of its Creator, that struggles to emit in
the hearing of the soul a note of sorrowing sympathy. Let

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 195
it then be heard, and let man learn to feel, that the true
greatness of a nation is founded on the principles of hu
manity ; and that to avoid a war when our own existence is
not endangered, and wherein the happiness of man must be
wantonly sacrificed, is a higher principle of true honour than
madly to engage in it.
But independent of all civil and moral considerations, there
is no possible event that a war could produce benefits to
England or France, on the present occasion, that could in
the most distant proportion recompence to either the ex-
pence she must be at. War involves in its progress such a
train of unforeseen and unsupposed circumstances, such a
combination of foreign matters, that no human wisdom can
calculate the end. It has but one thing certain, and that is
increase of TAXES. The policy of European courts is now
so cast, and their interests so interwoven with each other,
that however easy it may be to begin a war, the weight and
influence of interfering nations compel even the conqueror
to unprofitable conditions of peace.
Commerce and maritime strength are now becoming the
fashion, or rather the rage of Europe, and this naturally ex
cites in them a combined wish to prevent either England or
France increasing its comparative strength by destroying, or
even relatively weakening, the other, and therefore whatever
views each may have at the commencement of a war, new
enemies will arise as either gains the advantage, and con
tinued obstacles ensue to embarrass success.
The greatness of Lewis the Fourteenth made Europe his
enemy, and the same cause will produce the same conse
quence to any other European power. That nation, therefore,
is only truly wise, who, contenting herself with the means
of defence, creates to herself no unnecessary enemies by
seeking to be greater than the system of Europe admits.
The Monarch or the Minister who exceeds this line, knows
but little of his business. It is what the poet on another
occasion calls —
" The point where sense and nonsense join."

196 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
Perhaps there is not a greater instance of the folly of
calculating upon events, than are to be found in the treaties
of alliance. As soon as they have answered the immediate
purpose of either of the parties they are but little regarded.
Pretences afterwards are never wanting to explain them
away, nor reasons to render them abortive. And if half
the money which nations lavish on speculative alliances were
reserved for their own immediate purpose, whenever the
occasion shall arrive, it would be more productively and
advantageously employed.
Monarchs and Ministers, from ambition or resentment,
often contemplate to themselves schemes of future greatness,
and set out with what appears to them the fairest prospect :
In the meanwhile, the great wheel of time and fate revolves
unobserved, and something never dreamed of turns up and
blasts the whole. A few fancied or unprofitable laurels sup
ply the absence of success, and the exhausted nation is
HUZZA'D INTO NEW TAXES.
The politics and interests of European Courts are so fre
quently varying with regard to each other, that there is no
fixing even the probability of their future conduct. But the
great principle of alliancing seems to be but little understood,
or little cultivated in Courts, perhaps the least of all, in that
of England. — No alliance can be operative that does not
embrace within itself, not only the attachment of the Sover
eigns, but the real interest of the nations.
The alliance between France and Spain, however it may
be spoken of as a mere family compact, derives its greatest
strength from national interest. The mines of Peru and
Mexico are the soul of this alliance. Were those mines ex
tinct, the family compact would most probably dissolve.
There exists not a doubt in the mind of Spain, what part
England would act, respecting those mines, could she de
molish the maritime power of France; and therefore the
interest of Spain feels itself continually united with France.
Spain has high ideas of honour, but has not the same ideas
of English honour. They consider England as wholly
governed by principles of interest, and that whatever she

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 197
thinks it her interest to do, and supposes she has the power
of doing, she makes very little ceremony of attempting.
But this is not all — There is not a nation in Europe but
what is more satisfied that those mines should be in the pos
session of Spain, than in that of any other European nation ;
because the wealth of those mines, sufficient to ruin Europe
in the hands of some of its powers, is innocently employed
with respect to Europe, and better and more peaceably dis
tributed among them all, through the medium of Spain, than
it would be through that of any other nation. This is one of
the secret causes that combine so large a part of Europe in the
interest of France, because they cannot but consider her as a
standing barrier to secure to them the free and equal distribu
tion of this wealth throughout all the dominions of Europe.
This alliance of interest is likewise one of the unseen
cements that prevents Spain and Portugal, two nations not
very friendly to each other, proceeding to hostilities. They
are both in the same situation, and, whatever their dislikes
may be, they cannot fail to consider that by giving way to
resentment that would weaken and exhaust themselves, each
would be exposed a prey to some stronger power.
In short, this alliance of national interest is the only one
that can be trusted, and the only one that can be operative.
All other alliances formed on the mere will and caprice of
Sovereigns, of family connections, uncombined with national
interests, are but the quagmire of politics, and never fail to
become a loss to that nation who wastes its present substance
on the expectancy of distant returns.
With regard to Holland, a man must know very little of
the matter, not to know that there exists a stronger principle
of rivalship between Holland and England in point of com
merce, than prevails between Englafid and France in point
of power : and, therefore, whenever a Stadtholder of Hol
land shall see it his interest to unite with the principle of his
country, and act in concert with the sentiments of the very
people who pay him for his services, the means now taken
by England to render him formidable, will operate contrary
to the political expectations of the present day.

I98 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [178?
Circumstances will produce their own natural effects, and
no other, let the hopes or expectations of man be what they
may. It is not our doing a thing with a design that it shall
answer such or such an end, that will cause it to produce
that end ; the means taken must have a natural ability and
tendency within themselves to produce no other, for it is
this, and not our wishes of policy, that governs the event.
The English Navigation Act was levelled against the
interest of the Dutch as a whole nation, and therefore it is
not to be supposed that the catching at the accidental circum
stances of one man, as in the case of the present Stadtholder,
can combine the interest of that country with this. A few
years, perhaps a less time, may remove him to the place where
all things are forgotten, and his successor, contemplating his
father's troubles, will be naturally led to reprobate the means
that produced them, and to repose himself on the interests
of his country, in preference to the accidental and tumul
tuous assistance of exterior power.
England herself exhibits at this day a species of this kind
of policy. The present reign, by embracing the Scotch, has
tranquillized and conciliated the spirit that disturbed the
two former reigns. Accusations were not wanting at that
time to reprobate the policy as tinctured with ingratitude
towards those who were the immediate means of the Han
over succession. The brilliant pen of Junius was drawn
forth, but in vain. It enraptured without convincing ; and
tho' in the plenitude of its rage it might be said to give
elegance to bitterness, yet the policy survived the blast.1
What then will be the natural consequence of this expence,
on account of the Stadtholder, or of a war entered into from
that cause ? Search the various windings and caverns of
the human heart, and draw from thence the most probable
conclusion, for this is more to be depended upon than the
projects or declarations of Ministers.
It may do very well for a paragraph in a miserable com
mon news-paper, or the wild effusions of romantic politicians,
1 It is strange that in the face of this allusion the notion should spring up that
Paine was " Junius." — Editor.

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 199
or the mercenary views of those who wish for war on any
occasion, merely for the sake of jobs and contracts, to talk of
French finesse or French intrigue ; but the Dutch are not a
people to be impressed by the finesse or intrigue of France
or England, or any other nation. If there has been any
finesse in the case, it has been between the electorate of
Hanover, the king of Prussia, and the Stadtholder, in which
it is most probable the people of England will be finessed
out of a sum of money.
The Dutch, as is already observed, are not a people open
to the impression of finesse. It is lost upon them. They
are impressed by their commercial interest. It is the politi
cal soul of their country, the spring of their actions, and
when this principle coincides with their ideas of freedom, it
has all the impulse a Dutchman is capable of feeling.
The Opposition in Holland were the enemies of the Stadt
holder, upon a conviction that he was not the friend of their
national interests. They wanted no other impulse but this.
Whether this defect in him proceeded from foreign attach
ment, from bribery or corruption, or from the well known
defects of his understanding is not the point of inquiry.
It was the effect rather than the cause that irritated the
Hollanders. If the Stadtholder made use of the power he held in the
government to expose and endanger the interests and prop
erty of the very people who supported him, what other
incentive does any man in any country require? If the
Hollanders conceived the conduct of the Stadtholder in
jurious to their national interest, they had the same right to
expel him which England had to expel the Stuarts ; and the
interference of England to re-establish him serves only to
confirm in the Hollanders the same hatred against England
which the attempt of Lewis XIV. to re-establish the Stuarts
caused in England against France ; therefore if the present
policy is intended to attach Holland to England, it goes on
a principle exceedingly erroneous.
Let us now consider the situation of the Stadtholder, as
making another part of the question.

200 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
He must place the cause of his troubles to some secret in
fluence which governed his conduct during the late war, or,
in other words, that he was suspected of being the tool of
the then British Administration. Therefore, as every part
of an argument ought to have its weight, instead of charging
the French with intriguing with the Hollanders, the charge
more consistently lies against the British Ministry for in
triguing with the Stadtholder, and endangering the nation in
a war without a sufficient object. That which the Ministry
are now doing confirms the suspicion, and explains to the
Hollanders that collusion of the Stadtholder, against their
national interests, which he must wish to have concealed,
and the explanation does him more hurt than the unnecessary
parade of service has done him good.
Nothing but necessity should have operated with England
to appear openly in a case that must put the Stadtholder on
still worse terms with his countrymen. Had France made
any disposition for war, had she armed, had she made any
one hostile preparation, there might then have been some
pretence for England taking a step that cannot fail to expose
to the world that the suspicions of the Hollanders against
the Stadtholder were well founded, and that their cause was
just, however unsuccessful has been the event.
As to the consequence of Holland in the scale of Europe,
(the great stake, says some of the news-papers, for which
England is contending) that is naturally pointed out by her
condition : As merchants for other nations her interest
dictates to her to be a neutral power, and this she always
will be unless she is made war upon, as was the case in the
last war ; and any expectation beyond what is the line of
her interest, that is, beyond neutrality, either in England or
France, will prove abortive. It therefore cannot be policy
to go to war to effect that at a great expence, which will
naturally happen of itself, and beyond which there is nothing
to expect.
Let Holland be allied with England or with France, or
with neither, or with both, her national conduct, consequently
arising out of her circumstances, will be nearly the same, that

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 201
is, she will be neutral. Alliances have such a natural tend
ency to sink into harmless unoperative things, that to make
them a cause for going to war, either to prevent their being
formed, or to break any already formed, is the silliest specula
tion that war can be made upon, or wealth wasted to accom
plish. It would scarcely be worth the attempt, if war could
be carried on without expence, because almost the whole
that can be hoped at the risk and expence of a war, is effected
by their natural tendency to inactivity.
However pompous the declarations of an alliance may be,
the object of many of them is no other than good-will, and
reciprocally securing, as far as such security can go, that
neither shall join the enemies of the other in any war that
may happen. But the national circumstances of Holland,
operate to insure this tranquillity on her part as effectually
to the power she is not allied with, as the engagement itself
does to the power with whom she is allied ; therefore the
security from circumstances is as good as the security from
engagement. As to a cordial union of interest between Holland and
England, it is as unnatural to happen as between two indi
vidual rivals in the same trade : And if there is any step that
England could take to put it at a still greater distance, it is
the part she is now acting. She has increased the animosity
of Holland on the speculative politics of interesting the
Stadtholder, whose future repose depends upon uniting with
the Opposition in Holland, as the present reign did with the
Scotch. How foolish then has been the policy, how need
less the expence of engaging in a war on account of the
affairs of Holland.
A cordiality between England and France is less im
probable than between England and Holland. It is not how
an Englishman feels but how a Dutchman feels, that decides
this question. Between England and France there is no
real rivalship of interest ; it is more the effect of temper,
disposition, and the jealousy of confiding in each other, than
any substantial cause, that keeps up the animosity. But on
the part of Holland towards England, there is over and

202 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
above the spirit of animosity, the more powerful motives of
interested commercial rivalship, and the galling remembrance
of past injuries. The making war upon them under Lord
North's administration, when they were taking no part in
the hostilities, but merely acting the business of merchants,
is a circumstance that will not easily be forgotten by them.
On these reasons, therefore, which are naturally deduced
from the operative feelings of mankind, any expectation of
attaching Holland to England, as a friendly power, is vague
and futile. Nature has her own way of working in the
heart, and all plans of politics not founded thereon will dis
appoint themselves.
Any one who will review the history of English politics
for several years past, must perceive they have been directed
without system. To establish this, it is only necessary to
examine one circumstance, fresh in the mind of every man.
The American war was prosecuted at a very great ex-
pence, on the publicly declared opinion, that the retaining
America was necessary to the existence of England ; but
America being now separated from England, the present
politics are, that she is better without her. than with her.
Both these cannot be true, and their contradiction to each
other shows want of system. If the latter is true, it
amounts to an impeachment of the political judgment of
government, because the discovery ought to have been
made before the expence was gone into. This single circum
stance, yet fresh in every man's mind, is sufficient to create
a suspicion, whether the present measures are more wisely
founded than the former ones ; and whether experience
may not prove, that going to war for the sake of the
Stadtholder, or for the hope of retaining a partial interest
in Holland, who under any connection, can from circum
stances be no more than a neutral power, is not as weak
policy as going to war to retain America. .
If England is powerful enough to maintain her own
ground and consequence in the world as an independent
nation, she needs no foreign connection. If she is not,
the fact contradicts the popular opinion that she is. There-

I787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON.

203

fore, either her politics are wrong, or her true condition
is not what she supposes it to be. Either she must give
up her opinion to justify her politics, or renounce her
politics to vindicate her opinion.
If some kind of connection with Holland is supposed to
be an object worthy some expence to obtain, it may be
asked why was that connection broken by making war upon
her in the last war? If it was not then worth preserving
without expence, is it now worth re-obtaining at a vast
expence ? If the Hollanders do not like the English, can
they be made to like them against their wills? If it shall
be said that under the former connection they were un
friendly, will they be more friendly under any other?
They were then in as free a situation to chuse as any
future circumstances can make them, and, therefore, the
national governing sentiment of the country can be easily
discovered ; for it signifies not what or who a Stadtholder
may be, that which governs Holland is, and always must be,
a commercial principle, and it will follow this line in spite of
politics. Interest is as predominant and as silent in its
operations as love ; it resists all the attempts of force, and
countermines all the stratagem of controul.
The most able English Statesmen and Politicians have
always held it as a principle, that foreign connections served
only to embarrass and exhaust England. That, surrounded
by the ocean, she could not be invaded, as countries are on
the Continent of Europe, and that her insular situation dic
tated to her a different system of politics to what those
countries required, and that to be enleagued with them was
sacrificing the advantages of situation to a capricious system
of politics. That tho' she might serve them they could not
much serve her, and that as the service must at all times be
paid for, it could always be procured when it was wanted ;
and that it would be better to take it up in this line than to
embarrass herself with speculative alliances that served
rather to draw her into a Continental war on their account,
than extricate her from a war undertaken on her own
account.

204 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [l787
From this discussion of the affairs of Holland, and of the
inadequacy of Holland as an object of war, we will proceed
to show that neither England nor France are in a condition
to go to war, and that there is no present object to the one
or the other to recompence the expence that each must be
at, or atone to the subjects of either for the additional bur
thens that must be brought upon them. I defend the cause
of the poor, of the manufacturers, of the tradesmen, of the
farmer, and of all those on whom the real burthen of taxes
fall — but above all, I defend the cause of humanity.
It will always happen, that any rumour of war will be
popular among a great number of people in London. There
are thousands who live by it ; it is their harvest ; and the
clamour which those people keep up in news-papers and
conversations passes unsuspiciously for the voice of the
people, and it is not till after the mischief is done, that the
deception is discovered.
Such people are continually holding up, in very magni
fied terms, the wealth of the nation, and the depressed
condition of France, as reasons for commencing a war,
without knowing any thing of either of these subjects.
But admitting them to be as true as they are false, as will
be hereafter shown, it certainly indicates a vileness in the
national disposition of any country, that will make the acci
dental internal difficulties to which all nations are subject,
and sometimes encumbered with, a reason for making war
upon them. The amazing encrease and magnitude of the
paper currency now floating in all parts of England, exposes
her to a shock as much more tremendous than the shock
occasioned by the bankruptcy of the South Sea funds, as
the quantity of credit and paper currency is now greater
than they were at that time. Whenever such a circumstance
shall happen, and the wisest men in the nation are, and
cannot avoid being, impressed with the danger, it would
be looked upon as baseness in France to make the distress
and misfortune of England a cause and opportunity for
making war upon her, yet this hideous infidelity is publicly
avowed in England. The bankruptcy of 1719 was precipi-

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 205
tated by the great credit which the funds then had, and the
confidence which people placed in them. Is not credit
making infinitely greater strides now than it made then ? Is
not confidence equally as blind now as at that day ? The
people then supposed themselves as wise as they do now,
yet they were miserably deceived, and the deception that
has once happened will happen again from the same causes.
Credit is not money, and therefore it is not pay, neither
can it be put in the place of money in the end. It is only
the means of getting into debt, not the means of getting out,
otherwise the national debt could not accumulate ; and the
delusion which nations are under respecting the extention of
credit is exactly like that which every man feels respecting
life, the end is always nearer than was expected ; and we be
come bankrupts in time by the same delusion that nations
become bankrupts in property.
The little which nations know, or are sometimes willing '
to1 know, of each other, serves to precipitate them into
wars which neither would have undertaken, had they fully
known the extent of the power and circumstances of each
other ; it may therefore be of some use to place the circum
stances of England and France in a comparative point of
view. In order to do this the accidental circumstances of a nation
must be thrown out of the account. By accidental circum
stances is meant, those temporary disjointings and derange
ments of its internal system which every nation in the world
is subject to, and which, like accidental fits of sickness in the
human body, prevent in the interim the full exertion and
exercise of its natural powers.
The substantial basis of the power of a nation arises out o{
its population, its wealth, and its revenues. To these may
be added the disposition of the people. Each of these will
be spoken of as we proceed.
Instances are not wanting to show that a nation confiding
too much on its natural strength, is less inclined to be active
in its operations than one of less natural powers who is
•obliged to supply that deficiency by encreasing its exertions.

206 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
This has often been the case between England and France.
The activity of England, arising from its fears, has some
times exceeded the exertions of France reposing on its
confidence. But as this depends on the accidental disposition of a
people, it will not always be the same. It is a matter well
known to every man who has lately been in France, that a
very extraordinary change is working itself in the minds of
the people of that nation. A spirit that will render France
exceedingly formidable whenever its government shall em
brace the fortunate opportunity of doubling its strength by
allying, if it may be so expressed (for it is difficult to express
a new idea by old terms), the majesty of the Sovereign with
the majesty of the nation ; for of all alliances that is infinitely
the strongest and the safest to be trusted to, because the
interest so formed, and operating against external enemies,
can never be divided.
It may be taken as a certain rule, that a subject of any
country attached to the government on the principles above
mentioned, is of twice the value he was before. Freedom
in the subject is not a diminution, as was formerly believed,
of the power of government, but an increase of it. Yet the
progress by which changes of this kind are effected, requires
to be nicely attended to.
Were governments to offer freedom to the people, or to
show an anxiety for that purpose, the offer most probably
would be rejected. The purpose for which it was offered
might be mistrusted. Therefore the desire must originate
with, and proceed from the mass of the people, and when
the impression becomes universal, and not before, is the im
portant moment for the most effectual consolidation of
national strength and greatness that can take place.
While this change is working, there will appear a kind of
chaos in the nation ; but the creation we enjoy arose out of
chaos, and our greatest blessings appear to have a confused
beginning. Therefore we may take it for granted, that what has at this
moment the appearance of disorder in France, is no more

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 207
than one of the links in that great chain of circumstances by
which nations acquire the summit of their greatness. The
provincial assemblies already begun in France, are as full, or
rather a fuller representation of the people than the parlia
ments of England are.
The French, or, as they were formerly called, the Franks,
(from whence came the English word frank and free) were
once the freest people in Europe ; and as nations appear to
have their periodical revolutions, it is very probable they will
be so again. The change is already begun. The people of
France, as it was before observed, are beginning to think for
themselves, and the people of England resigning up the pre
rogative of thinking.1
We shall now proceed to compare the present condition of
England and France as to population, revenues and wealth,
and show that neither is in a condition of going to war, and
that war can end in nothing but loss, and, most probably, a
temporary ruin to both nations.
To establish this point so necessary for both nations to be
impressed with, a free investigation of all matters connected
with it is indispensable : If, therefore, any thing herein
advanced shall be disagreeable, it must be justified on the
ground that it is better to be known in order to prevent ruin,
than to be concealed, when such concealment serves only to
hasten the ruin on.
Of POPULATION. — The population of France, being up
wards of twenty-four millions, is more than double that of
Great Britain and Ireland; besides which France recruits
more soldiers in Switzerland than England does in Scotland
and Ireland. To this may likewise be added, that England
and Ireland are not on the best terms. The suspicion that
England governs Ireland for the purpose of keeping her low,
to prevent her becoming her rival in trade and manufacturies,
will always operate to hold Ireland in a state of sentimental
hostility with England.
1 Dr. Robinet (Danton Emigrd, p. 7) alludes to these "prophetic" para
graphs, written in the summer of 1787, as due to his personal intimacy with those
who presently inaugurated the Revolution. It will be remarked that no over
throw of the French Monarchy is suggested.— Editor.

208 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
REVENUES. — The revenues of France are twenty-four
millions sterling. The revenues of England fifteen millions
and an half. The taxes per head in France are twenty shil
lings sterling ; the taxes per head in England are two
pounds four shillings and two pence. The national debt of
France, including the life annuities (which are two fifths of
the whole debt, and are annually expiring) at eleven years
purchase, is one hundred and forty-two millions sterling.
The national debt of England, the whole of which is on per
petual interest, is two hundred and forty-five millions. The
national debt of France contains a power of annihilating
itself without any new taxes for that purpose; because it
needs no more than to apply the life annuities as they ex
pire to the purchase of the other three-fifths, which are on
perpetual interest : But the national debt of England has
not this advantage, and therefore the million a year that is
to be applied towards the reducing it is so much additional
tax upon the people, over and above the current service.
Wealth. — This is an important investigation : it ought
therefore to be heard with patience, and judged of without
prejudice. Nothing is more common than for people to mistake one
thing for another. Do not those who are crying up the
wealth of the nation mistake a paper currency for riches ?
To ascertain this point may be one of the means of prevent
ing that ruin which cannot fail to follow by persisting in the
mistake. The highest estimation that is made of the quantity of
gold and silver in Britain at this present day is twenty mil
lions : and those who are most conversant with money trans
actions, believe it to be considerably below that sum. Yet
this is no more money than what the nation possessed twenty
years ago, and therefore, whatever her trade may be, it has
produced to her no profit. Certainly no man can be so un
wise as to suppose that encreasing the quantity of bank
notes, which is done with as little trouble as printing of news
papers, is national wealth.
The quantity of money in the nation was very well ascer-

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 209
tained in the years 1773, '74, and '76, by calling in the light
gold coin.
There were upwards of fifteen millions and a half of
gold coin then called in, which, with upwards of two
millions of heavy guineas that remained out, and the
silver coin, made above twenty millions, which is more than
there is at this day. There is an amazing increase in the
circulation of Bank paper, which is no more national wealth
than news-papers are ; because an increase of promissary
notes, the capital remaining unincreasing, or not increasing
in the same proportion, is no increase of wealth. It serves
to raise false ideas which the judicious soon discover, and
the ignorant experience to their cost.
Out of twenty millions sterling, the present quantity of
real money in the nation, it would be too great an allowance
to say that one fourth of that sum, which is five millions,
was in London. But even admitting this to be the case, it
would require no very superior powers to ascertain pretty
nearly what proportion of that sum of five millions could be
in the Bank. It would be ridiculous to suppose it could be
less than half a million, and extravagant to suppose it could
be two millions.
It likewise requires no very extraordinary discernment to
ascertain how immense the quantity of Bank Notes, com
pared to the capital in the Bank must be, when it is consid
ered, that the national taxes are paid in Bank Notes, that
all great transactions are done in Bank Notes, and that were
a loan for twenty millions to be opened at the meeting of
Parliament, it would most probably be subscribed in a few
days : Yet all men must know the loan could not be paid
in money, because it is at least four times greater than all
the money in London, including the Bankers and the Bank
amount too. In short, every thing shows, that the rage
that overrun America, for paper money or paper currency,
has reached to England under another name. There it was
called Continental Money, and here it is called Bank Notes.
But it signifies not what name it bears, if the capital is not
equal to the redemption.
VOL. 2.— 14

2IO THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
There is likewise another circumstance that cannot fail to
strike with some force when it is mentioned, because every
man that has any thing to do with money transactions will
feel the truth of it, tho' he may not before have reflected
upon it. It is the embarrassed condition into which the gold
coin is thrown by the necessity of weighing it, and by re
fusing guineas that are even standing weight, and there
appears to be but few heavy ones. Whether this is in
tended to force the Paper Currency into circulation, is not
here attempted to be asserted, but it certainly has that
effect to a very great degree, because people, rather than
submit to the trouble and hazard of weighing, will take
paper in preference to money. This was once the case in
America. The natural effect of encreasing and continuing to in
crease paper currencies is that of banishing the real money.
The shadow takes place of the substance till the country is
left with only shadows in its hands.
A trade that does not increase the quantity of real money
in a country, cannot be styled a profitable trade ; yet this is
certainly the case with England : and as to credit, of which
so much has been said, it may be founded on ignorance or a
false belief, as well as on real ability.
In Amsterdam, the money deposited in the Bank is never
taken out again. The depositors, when they have debts
to pay, transfer their right to the persons to whom they are
indebted, and those again proceed by the same practice,
and the transfer of the right goes for payment ; now could
all the money deposited in the Bank of Amsterdam be
privately removed away, and the matter be kept a secret,
the ignorance, or the belief that the money was still there,
would give the same credit as if it had not been removed.
In short, credit is often no more than an opinion, and
the difference between credit and money is that money re
quires no opinion to support it.
All the countries in Europe annually increase in their
quantity of gold and silver except England. By the registers
kept at Lisbon and Cadiz, the two ports into which the gold

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 211
and silver from South America are imported, it appears that
above eighty millions sterling have been imported within
twenty years.* This has spread itself over Europe, and in
creased the quantity in all the countries on the Continent ;
yet twenty years ago there was as much gold and silver in
England as there is at this time.
The value of the silver imported into Europe exceeds that
of the gold, yet every one can see there is no increase of
silver coin in England ; very little silver coin appearing ex
cept what are called Birmingham shillings, which have a
faint impression of King William on one side, and are smooth
on the other.
In what is the profits of trade to show itself but by in
creasing the quantity of that which is the object of trade,
money ? An increase of paper is not an increase of national
noney, and the confounding paper and money together, or
not attending to the distinction, is a rock that the nation
will one day split upon.
Whether the payment of interest to foreigners, or the
trade to the East Indies, or the nation embroiling itself in
foreign wars, or whether the amount of all the trade which
England carries on with different parts of the world, col
lectively taken, balances itself without profit ; whether one
or all of these is the cause, why the quantity of money
does not encrease in England, is not, in this place the object
of enquiry. It is the fact and not the cause that is the matter
here treated of.
Men immersed in trade and the concerns of a counting-
house are not the most speculative in national affairs, or al
ways the best judges of them. Accustomed to run risks in
trade, they are habitually prepared to run risks with Govern
ment, and though they are the first to suffer, they are often
the last to foresee an evil.
Let us now cast a look towards the manufactures. A
great deal has been said of their flourishing condition, and
* From 1763 to 1777, a period of fifteen years of peace, the registered impor
tations of gold and silver into Lisbon and Cadiz, was seventy millions sterling,
besides what was privately landed. — Author.

212 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
perhaps a great deal too much, for it may again be asked,
where is the profit if there is no encrease of money ?
The woollen manufacture is the staple manufacture of
England, and this is evidently on the decline, in some, if
not in all its branches. The city of Norwich, one of the
most populous cities in England, and wholly dependant on
the woollen manufacture, is at this day, in a very impov
erished condition, owing to the decline of its trade.
But not to rest the matter on a general assertion, or
embarrass it with numerous statements, we will produce a
circumstance by which the whole progress of the trade may
be ascertained.
So long as thirty years ago, the price paid to the spinners
of wool was one shilling for twenty-four skains, each skain
containing five hundred and sixty yards. This, according
to the term of the trade, was called giving a shilling for a
shilling. A good hand would spin twelve skains, which was
sixpence a day.
According to the increase of taxes, and the increased price
of all the articles of life, they certainly ought now to get at
least fifteen pence, for what thirty years ago they got a
shilling for. But such is the decline of the trade, that the
case is directly the contrary. They now get but nine pence
for the shilling, that is, they get but nine pence for what
thirty years ago they got a shilling for. Can these people
cry out for war, when they are already half ruined by the
decline of trade, and half devoured by the increase of
taxes ?
But this is not the whole of the misfortunes which that part
of the country suffers, and which will extend to others.
The Norfolk farmers were the first who went into the prac
tice of manuring their land with marie ; but time has shewn
that though it gave a vigour to the land for some years, it
operated in the end to exhaust its stamina ; that the lands
in many parts are worse than before they begun to marie,
and that it will not answer to marie a second time.
The manufacturers of Manchester, Birmingham and Shef
field have had of late a considerable spring, but this appears

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 213
to be rather on speculation than certainty. The specula
tions on the American market have failed, and that on
Russia is becoming very precarious. Experience likewise
was wanting to ascertain the quantity which the treaty of
commerce with France would give sale to, and it is most
probable the estimations have been too high, more especially
as English goods will now become unpopular in France, which
was not the case before the present injudicious rupture.
But in the best state which manufactures can be in, they
are very unstable sources of national wealth. The reasons
are, that they seldom continue long in one state. The
market for them depends upon the caprice of fashions, and
sometimes of politics in foreign countries, and they are at
all times exposed to rivalship as well as to change. The
Americans have already several manufactures among them,
which they prefer to the English, such as axes, scythes,
sickles, ploughs, planes, nails, etc. Window glass, which was
once a considerable article of export from England to
America, the Americans now procure from other countries,
nearly as good as the English Crown Glass, and but little
dearer than the common green window glass.
It is somewhat remarkable that so many pens have been
displayed to shew what is called the increase of the com
merce of England, and yet all of them have stopped short
of the grand point, that is, they have gone no further than
to shew that a larger proportion of shipping, and a greater
quantity of tonnage have been employed of late years than
formerly: But this is no more than what is happening in
other parts of Europe. The present fashion of the world is
commerce, and the quantity encreases in France as well as
in England.
But the object of all trade is profit, and profit shews itself,
not by an increase of paper currency, for that may be nation
ally had without the trouble of trade, but by an increase of
real money : therefore the estimation should have ended,
not in the comparative quantity of shipping and tonnage,
but in the comparative quantity of gold and silver.
Had the quantity of gold and silver increased in England,

214 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
the ministerial writers would not have stopt short at ship
ping and tonnage; but if they know any thing of the
matter, they must know that it does not increase, and that
the deception is occasioned by the increase of paper instead
of money, and that as paper continues to increase, gold
and silver will diminish. Poorer in wealth, and richer in
delusion. Something is radically wrong, and time will discover it to
be putting paper in the room of money.
Out of one hundred millions sterling of gold and silver,
which must have been imported into Europe from South
America since the commencement of the peace before last,
it does not appear that England has derived or retains any
portion of it.
M. Neckar states the annual increase of gold and silver in
France, that is, the proportion which France draws of the
annual importation into Europe, to be upwards of one
million sterling. But England, in the space of twenty
years, does not appear to have encreased in any thing but
paper currency.
Credulity is wealth while credulity lasts, and credit is, in
a thousand instances, the child of credulity. It requires no
more faith to believe paper to be money, than to believe a
man could go into a quart bottle ; and the nation whose
credulity can be imposed upon by bottle conjuring, can, for
a time, be imposed upon by paper conjuring.
From these matters we pass on to make some observa
tions on the national debt, which is another species of paper
currency. In short, to whatever point the eye is directed, whether
to the money, the paper, the manufactures, the taxes, or the
debt, the inability of supporting a war is evident, unless it is
intended to carry it on by fleecing the skin over people's
ears by taxes ; and therefore the endangering the nation in
a war for the sake of the Stadtholder of Holland, or the
king of Prussia, or any other foreign affairs, from which
England can derive no possible advantage, is an absurd and
ruinous system of politics.

I787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 21 5
France, perhaps, is not in a better situation, and there
fore, a war where both must lose, and wherein they could
only act the part of seconds, must historically have been
denominated a boyish, foolish, unnecessary quarrel.
But before we enter on the subject of the national debt,
it will be proper to make a general review of the different
manner of carrying on war since the Revolution to what was
the practice before.
Before the Revolution the intervals of peace and war
always found means to pay off the expence, and leave the
nation clear of incumbrance at the commencement of any
succeeding war ; and even for some years after the Revolu
tion this practice was continued.
From the year 1688, (the aera of the Revolution) to the
year 1702, a period of fourteen years, the sums borrowed by
Government at different times, amounted to forty-four
millions ; yet this sum was paid off almost as fast as it was
borrowed ; thirty-four millions being paid off, at the com
mencement of the year 1702. This was a greater exertion
than the nation has ever made since, for exertion is not in
borrowing but in paying.
From that time wars have been carried on by borrowing
and funding the capital on a perpetual interest, instead of
paying it off, and thereby continually carrying forward and
accumulating the weight and expence of every war into the
next. By this means that which was light at first becomes
immensely heavy at last. The nation has now on its shoul
ders the weight of all the wars from the time of Queen Anne.
This practice is exactly like that of loading a horse with a
feather at a time till you break his back.
The national debt exhibits at this day a striking novelty.
It has travelled on in a circular progression till the amount
of the annual interest has exactly overtaken, or become
equal to, the first capital of the national debt, NINE MIL
LIONS. Here begins the evidence of the predictions so long
foretold by the ablest calculators in the nation. The inter
est will in succession overtake all the succeeding capitals, and
that with the proportioned rapidity with which those capitals

2l6 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
accumulated ; because by continuing the practice, not only
higher and higher premiums must be given for loans, but
the money, or rather the paper, will not go so far as it for
merly did, and therefore the debt will increase with a con
tinually increasing velocity.
The expence of every war, since the national debt began,
has, upon an average, been double the expence of the war
preceding it ; the expence therefore of the next war will be
at least two hundred millions, which will encrease the annual
interest to at least seventeen millions, and consequently the
taxes in the same proportion ; the following war will en
crease the interest to thirty-three millions, and a third war
will mount up the interest to sixty-five millions. This is not
going on in the spirit of prediction, but taking what has
already been as a rule for what will yet be, and therefore the
nation has but a miserable prospect to look at. The weight
of accumulating interest is not much felt till after many
years have passed over ; but when it begins to be heavy, as
it does now, the burthen encreases like that of purchasing
a horse with a farthing for the first nail of the shoe and
doubling it.
As to Mr. Pitt's scheme of reducing the national debt by
a million a year, applied to the purchase of stock, it will turn
out, to say the least of it, a ridiculous and frivolous project :
For if a Minister has not experience enough to distinguish a
feather in the air, and such there always will be, from the
God of War, nor the clamours and interest of those who are
seeking for jobs and contracts from the voice and interests
of the people, he will soon precipitate the nation into some
unnecessary war : and therefore any scheme of redemption
of the debt, founded on the supposed continuance of peace,
will, with such conduct, be no more than a balloon.
That the funding system contains within itself the seeds
of its own destruction, is as certain as that the human body
contains within itself the seeds of death. The event is as
fixed as fate, unless it can be taken as a proof that because
we are not dead we are not to die.
The consequence of the funding scheme, even if no other

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 217
event takes place, will be to create two violent parties in the
nation. The one, goaded by taxes continually encreasing
to pay the interest, the other reaping a benefit from the
taxes by receiving the interest. This is very strongly
shadowed forth, like the handwriting on the wall, by the
ingenious author of the Commercial Atlas, in his observa
tions on the national debt.
The slumber that for several years has over-shadowed the
nation in all matters of public finance, cannot be supposed
to last for ever. The people have not yet awakened to the
subject, and it is taken for granted that they never will.
But, if a supposed unnecessary expenditure of between five
and six millions sterling in the finances of France (for the
writer undertakes not to judge of the fact) has awakened
that whole nation, a people supposed to be perfectly docile
in all national matters, surely the people of England will not
be less attentive to their rights and properties. If this
should not be the case, the inference will be fairly drawn
that England is losing the spirit that France is taking up,
and that it is an ingenious device in the Ministry to compose
the nation to unpopular and unnecessary taxes, by shamming
a victory when there was no enemy at hand.
In short, every war serves to encrease every kind of paper
currency in the nation, and to diminish the quantity of
gold and silver, by sending it to Prussia and other foreign
countries. It will not be denied that credulity is a strong trait in the
English character ; and this has in no instance shewn itself
more than in mistaking paper for money, except it be in the
unaccountable ignorance of mistaking the debt of the nation
for riches. But the suspicion is beginning to awake.
We will close this article with observing, that a new kind
of paper currency has arisen within a few years, which is
that of country Bank Notes ; almost every town now has its
Bank, its Paper Mint, and the coinage of paper is become
universal. In the mean time the melting down the light
guineas, and recoining them, passes with those who know no
better for an encrease of money ; because every new guinea

2l8 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
they see, and which is but seldom, they naturally suppose to
be a guinea more, when it is really nothing else than an old
guinea new cast.
From this account of the money, paper, and national debt
of England, we proceed to compare it with the money, paper,
and national debt of France.
It is very well known that paper has not the same credit
in France which it has in England, and that, consequently,
there is much less of it. This has naturally operated to en
crease the quantity of gold and silver in France, and prevent
the encrease of paper.
The highest estimation of the quantity of gold and silver
in England, as already stated, is twenty millions sterling, and
the quantity of paper grafted thereon, immense.
The quantity of gold and silver in France is ninety millions
sterling, and the quantity of paper grafted thereon trifling.
France, therefore, has a long run of credit yet in reserve,
which England has already expended ; and it will naturally
follow, that when the Government of France and the nation
shall adjust their differences by an amicable embrace of each
other, that this reserved credit will be brought forth, and the
power of France will be doubly encreased. The adjustment
of these differences is but the business of a day, whenever
its Government shall see the proper moment for doing it ;
and nothing would precipitate this event more than a war.
The cry of war, from the injudicious provocations given by
the British Ministry, and the disadvantageous effect of the
Commercial Treaty, is becoming popular in France.
The near situation of France to Spain and Portugal, the
two countries which import gold and silver, and her manu
factures being better adapted to the warm climate of those
countries than the manufactures of England, give her superior
opportunities of drawing money into the nation ; and as she
has but little trade to the East Indies, the money so drawn
in is not drawn out again, as in England. Another advan
tage is that, from the greatness of her dominions, she has no
occasion to waste her wealth in hiring foreign troops, as is
the practice with England ; and a third advantage is, that

I787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 2ig
the money which England squanders in Prussia and other
countries on the Continent serves to encrease the wealth of
France, because a considerable part of it centres there through
the medium of her commerce.
Admitting Great Britain and Ireland to contain ten millions
of inhabitants, the quantity of money per head is forty shill
ings ; the money per head in France is three pounds fifteen
shillings, which is nearly double.
The national debt of England, compared to the whole
amount of money in the nation, is as twelve to one, that
is, the debt is twelve times greater than all the money
amounts to.
The national debt of France, compared to the whole
amount of her money, is considerably less than as two is to
one, that is, her debt is not so much as twice the amount of
her money. France, therefore, as already stated, has an
immense credit in reserve whenever the settlement of her
present internal differences shall furnish her with the means
of employing it ; and that period, so much to be dreaded by
England, is hastening on.
The annual interest of the national debt of England and
France are nearly equal, being NINE MILLIONS sterling ; but
with this difference, that above three millions and a half of
the annual interest of France are only life annuities. The
interest, therefore, of her debt lessens every year, and she
will have a surplus up to the amount of three millions and a
half, to apply to the purchase of that part of the debt which
is on perpetual interest ; therefore, without any new taxes
for that purpose, she can discharge her whole debt in less
than a third of the time in which it can be done in England,
according to Mr. Pitt's plan, with his additional tax of a
million a year.
But let the event of Mr. Pitt's plan be what it may, as
to reducing the debt, there is one circumstance that cannot
fail to accompany it, which is, that of making it the interest
of Government, in executing this plan, to undermine the
interest of its creditors, or the value of the funds, for the
purpose of purchasing at a cheaper rate.

220 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
The plan is founded on the presumption of a long unin
terrupted peace, and that future loans would not be wanted,
which cannot now be expected, for France in her turn is
getting into a temper for war. The plan naturally strikes at
the credit of Government, in contracting further debts ; for
were a loan to be opened to-morrow, the subscribers, natu
rally perceiving that it was the interest of Government to
undermine them as soon as they became creditors, would con
sequently seek to secure themselves by demanding higher
premiums at first. It is a question whether a premium of
thirty per cent, is now as good as ten was before, and there
fore the plan, in case of a war, instead of lessening the debt,
serves to push it more rapidly on.
The Minister certainly never understood the natural opera
tion of his plan, or he would not have acted as he has done.
The plan has two edges, while he has supposed it to have only
one. It strikes at the debt in peace, and at the credit in war.
The gentleman who originally furnished the Minister with
this plan, now gives it totally up. He knew its operation
both in peace and war, but the Minister appears not to have
comprehended it : But if he has made a mistake, his youth
and inexperience must be his apology.
The plan, unless it should be altered, that is given out for
providing for the expence of the late armaments, is in reality
no other than the American plan of paper money, and it is
very probable that the Minister has received it from some
American refugee.
The plan given out is, that the Minister is to borrow the
MONEY of the Bank. Here is the delusion. The name of
MONEY covers the deception. For the case is, that the Bank
does not lend the real money, but it issues out an emission
of Bank-paper, and the presumption is that there will be no
run upon the Bank in consequence of such an extraordinary
emission ; but if there should, no man can be at a loss in
foreseeing the issue.
There are those who remember that on a former run the
Bank was obliged to prolong the time of paying shillings and
sixpences, and it is universally credited that a quantity of

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 221
silver is now preserved in the Bank for the same purpose ;
but the device, to every person of reflection, shows that the
capital is not equal to the demands, and that the Chapter of
Accidents is part of the Bible of Bank.
It may be asked why does not the Government issue the
paper instead of the Bank ? The answer is, that it is exactly
the same thing in the end, only with this difference in the
mode, that were the Government to do it, it would be too
visible a system of paper currency, and that a disguise is
necessary. Having recourse to the Bank, is a kind of playing the
Bank off against the Funds. Fighting one kind of paper
against another, and in the combat both will be sufferers.
In short, the delusion of paper riches is working as rapidly
in England as it did in America. A young and inexperi
enced Minister, like a young and inexperienced Congress,
may suppose that he sees mines of wealth in a printing
press, and that a nation cannot be exhausted while there is
paper and ink enough to print paper money. Every new
emission, until the delusion bursts, will appear to the nation
an increase of wealth. Every merchant's coffers will appear
a treasury, and he will swell with paper riches till he becomes
a bankrupt. When a Bank makes too free with its paper, it exposes
itself in much the same manner which a Government does
that makes too free with its power ; too much credit is as
bad as too little ; and there is such a thing as governing too
much, as well in a Bank, as in a Government. But nothing
exposes a Bank more than being under the influence instead
of the protection of Government, and whenever either the
property or the credit of a Bank, can be commanded or in
fluenced by a Government, or a Minister, its destruction is
not far off.
We have now stated the comparative condition of Eng
land and France as to money matters. But there yet remain
some things necessary to be touched upon.
It is an error very frequently committed in the world to
mistake disposition for condition.

222 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
France, with a much better permanent condition for war
than England, is in a less disposition to enter into one, and
this want of disposition in her is mistaken in England for
want of condition ; and on the other hand, the apparent dis
position in England for war is mistaken by her for a condition
to undertake and carry one on.
There appears a uniformity in all the works of Nature,
from individual animals up to nations. The smaller animals
are always the most fretful, passionate, and insulting. They
mistake temper for strength, and often fall a sacrifice to
vexatious impetuosity, while larger ones go calmly on, and
require repeated provocations to incense them. France may
yet be aggravated into war, and very probably will. Where
the condition exists, the disposition may at any time take
place. We may create temper, but we cannot create
strength. While the literature of England preserves an honourable
rank among the nations of Europe, her national character is
most miserably suffering in the world through her news
papers. The most barefaced perfidiousness, the most aban
doned principles are daily propagated. A total disregard
to all the obligations of national faith and honour are
publicly professed. Instead of that true greatness of heart,
that calm grandeur of sentiment, that generous disdain of
vulgar littleness that ought always to accompany the dis
putes of nations, scarcely any thing is to be seen but mean
abuse and low scurrility. This is not the case in any other
country in the world but England.
We will now proceed to conclude with a few additional
observations on the state of politics.
For several weeks the nation was amused with the daily
rumours of some great Cabinet secret, and admiring how
profoundly the secret was kept, when the only secret was,
that there was no secret to divulge.
But this opinion of a secret very well shews that the
opinion of the nation was opposed to the opinion of the
Minister, or the supposition of some great secret would not
have taken place, as the affairs of the Stadtholder were then

I787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 223
publicly known. It shews that the nation did not think the
Stadtholder of Holland a sufficient reason for laying new
taxes on England, and running into the risk and expence of
a war, and great was the surprise when the declaration and
counter-declaration, like twin mice, peeped from the Cabinet.
But there is one secret that requires to be investigated,
which is, whether the Minister did not know that France
would not engage in a war, and whether the preparations
were not an idle parade, founded on that knowledge.
Whether it was not meanly putting England under the
banners of Prussia, and taking thereby a dishonourable
advantage of the internal perplexity which France was
then in, and which in its turn may happen to England, to
assume the air of a challenge, which it must be known
would not be accepted, because there was nothing to make
the acceptance necessary.
Whether this conduct in the Minister does not mischiev
ously operate to destroy the harmony that appeared to be
growing up between the two nations ; to lessen, if not totally
destroy, the advantages of the Commercial Treaty, and to
lay the seeds of future wars, when there was a prospect of
a long and uninterrupted peace.
When there are two ways of accomplishing the same
object, it almost always happens that the one is better
than the other ; and whether the Minister has not chosen
the worst, a few observations will elucidate.
It signifies not what airy schemes, projects, or even
treaties may be formed, especially if done under the point
of the bayonet, for all that can be expected of Holland is
neutrality. Her trade is with all nations, and it is from her
neutrality that this trade has arisen. Destroy this neutrality
and Holland is destroyed. Therefore it matters not what
sentiments party men may be of in Holland as to the Stadt-
holdership, because there is still a superior banner under
which all will unite.
Holland will not expose her trade to the devastations of
England by joining France in a war, neither will she ex
pose it to France by joining England. It may very well

224 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
be asked, what are England or France to Holland, that she
should join with either in a war, unless she is compelled to
it by one or the other making war upon her, as was the case
in the last war ?
Events may soon happen in Europe to make all the force
that Prussia can raise necessary to her own defence, and
Holland must be wise enough to see that, by joining Eng
land, she not only exposes her trade to France but likewise
her dominions, because France can invade her in a quarter
in which England cannot defend her, provided her Generals
prove true, for Holland lies open to France by land. It is,
therefore, more immediately the interest of Holland to keep
on good terms with France ; neither can England give her
, — any equivalent to balance this circumstance. How foolish
I then are the politics which are directed to unnatural and
^impossible objects ! Surely the experience of a century past
is sufficient to shew to any man, except one of yesterday,
what the conduct of Holland in all cases must be.
But there is another circumstance that does not fail to
impress foreigners, and especially Holland ; which is, that the
immensity of the national debt of England, the prospect of
its still encreasing, and the exorbitancy of her paper cur
rencies, render her too insecure in herself to be much con
fided in by foreign nations for any length of time. Because
that which must happen may soon happen.
Concerning the rescript delivered by the French Minister,
there is one certain explanation to be put upon it, which is,
that if France had been disposed for war, she would not
have made that communication. The very making it goes
to a full explanation of the parts ; and as soon as Mr. Pitt
obtained this knowledge, it appeared to him a safe moment
to gird on his sword ; and when he found that France was
as well weaponed as himself, to propose to take it off again.
This is in a few words the whole history of the campaign.
A war Minister in peace, and a peace Minister in war.
Brave where there is no danger, and prudent when there is.
The rescript could be nothing else than an explanation, on
the part of France, of the situation she conceived herself to

1787] PROSPECTS ON THE RUBICON. 225
be subject to, and the probable consequences that might
follow from it. This she was not obliged to make, and there
fore her making it was a matter of civil communication
towards a power she was at peace with, and which in return
entitled her to a similar communication on the part of the
British Cabinet. All this might have been done without
either the expence, the tumult, the provocations, or the ill
blood that has been created.
The alliance between France and the Dutch was formed
while the Stadtholder was a part of the Government, there
fore France could not, from that alliance, take a part either
for or against him. She could only act when the whole in
terest of the Republic was exposed to a foreign enemy, and
it was not certain that this might not be the case.
The rescript, therefore, instead of being taken as a ground
for war, was in itself a ground for peace, because it tended
to bring on a discussion of all the circumstances of France
and England relative to Holland, which would not have failed
to place Holland in a state of neutrality, and that only will
be the final event now ; because, independent of all parties,
no other is consistent with the whole national interest of
that Republic.
But this is not being done, it is now left to the Dutch to
do it for themselves.
An alliance with England, at the same time there is one
existing with France, will secure this neutrality, so necessary
to the Dutch Republic. By this stroke of politics she will
be free from all obligations to join with either in a war, and
be guaranteed by both. Her alliance with England will
debar England from molesting her trade by sea, and that
with France will debar France from the same thing, and
likewise from invading her by land in all future cases. There
are so many probable circumstances to arise on the Conti
nent of Europe, that the situation of Holland requires this
safeguard, more especially from France, on account of her
land connection.
The rising greatness of the Russian Empire, the probable
union of this Empire with those of Germany and France,

226 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1787
and consequently with Spain, whose interests cannot be
separated, and the probability of a rupture between the
Emperor and the King of Prussia, are matters that can
not fail to impress the Dutch with the necessity of securing
themselves by land as well as by sea, and to prevent their
being drawn into the quarrels either of England or France.
Upon the whole, as there was a civil as well as an uncivil
line of politics to be pursued, every man of humane and
generous sentiments must lament it was not chosen.
A disposition for peace was growing up in every part of
France, and there appeared at the same time a mutual one
rising in England. A silent wish on both sides was univer
sally expanding itself, that wars, so fatal to the true interest
and burthensome by taxes to the subjects of both countries,
might exist no more, and that a long and lasting peace might
take place.
But instead of cultivating this happy opportunity, the
pettish vanity of a young and inexperienced Minister, who
balanced himself between peace and war to take his choice
of circumstances, instead of principles, and who went into
an expensive armament when there was none to contend
with, and not till after the affairs of Holland might be said
to be terminated, has destroyed those seeds of harmony that
might have been rendered of more value to both nations
than their fleets and armies.
He has permitted the nation to run mad under the uni
versal influence of a groundless belief of vast hostile arma
ments in the East and West Indies, and the supposition of
a secret that never existed. By this means the sparks of ill
will are afresh kindled up between the nations, the fair
prospects of lasting peace are vanished, and a train of future
evils fills up the scene, and that at a time when the internal
affairs of France, however confused they at present appear,
are naturally approaching to a great and harmonious encrease
of its power.
Thomas Paine.
York Street, St. James's Square,
20th August, 1787.

IX.
SPECIFICATION OF THOMAS PAINE.
A.D. 1788 . . . . N" 1667.
CONSTRUCTING ARCHES, VAULTED ROOFS, AND CEILINGS.

TO ALL TO WHOM THESE PRESENTS SHALL COME, I,
Thomas Paine, send greeting.
WHEREAS His most Excellent Majesty King George
the Third, by His Letters Patent under the Great Seal of
Great Britain, bearing date the Twenty-sixth day of August,
in the Twenty-eighth year of His reign, did give unto me,
the said Thomas Paine, His special licence that I, the said
Thomas Paine, during the term of fourteen years therein
expressed, should and lawfully might make, use, exercise,
and vend, within England, Wales, and Town of Berwick-
upon-Tweed, my Invention of " A Method of Construct
ing of Arches, Vaulted Roofs, and Cielings, either
in Iron or Wood, on Principles New and Different
to anything hitherto practiced, by means of which
Construction Arches, Vaulted Roofs, and Cielings
may be Erected to the extent of several Hundred
Feet beyond what can be performed in the present
practice of Architecture ; " in which said Letters
Patent there is contained a proviso obliging me, the said
Thomas Paine, to cause a particular description of the nature
of my said Invention, and in what manner the same is to be
performed, by an instrument in writing under my hand and
seal, to be inrolled in His Majesty's High Court of Chancery
227

228 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1788
within one calendar month next and immediately after the
date of the said recited Letters Patent, as in and by the
same (relation being thereunto had) may more fully and at
large appear.
Now KNOW ye, that in compliance. with the said proviso,
I, the said Thomas Paine, do hereby declare that my said
Invention of A Method of Constructing of Arches, Vaulted
Roofs, and Cielings, either in Iron or Wood, on Principles
New and Different to anything hitherto practiced, by means
of which Construction, Arches, Vaulted Roofs, and Cielings
may be Erected to the Extent of several Hundred Feet
beyond what can be performed in the present practice of
Architecture, is described in manner following (that is to
say) :—
The idea and construction of this arch is taken from the
figure of a spider's circular web, of which it resembles a sec
tion, and from a conviction that when nature empowered
this insect to make a web she also instructed her in the
strongest mechanical method of constructing it.
Another idea, taken from nature in the construction of
this arch, is that of increasing the strength of matter by
dividing and combining it, and thereby causing it to act
over a larger space than it would occupy in a solid state, as
is seen in the quills of birds, bones of animals, reeds, canes,
etc. The curved bars of the arch are composed of pieces of
any length joined together to the whole extent of the arch,
and take curveture by bending. Those curves, to any num
ber, height, or thickness, as the extent of the arch may
require, are raised concentrically one above another, and
separated, when the extent of the arch requires it, by the
interposition of blocks, tubes, or pins, and the whole bolted
close and fast together (the direction of the radius is the
best) through the whole thickness of the arch, the bolts being
made fast by a head pin or screw at each end of them.
This connection forms one arched rib, and the number of
ribs to be used is in proportion to the breadth and extent
of the arch, and those separate ribs are also combined and
braced together by bars passing 'cross all the ribs, and made

1788] SPECIFICATION OF THOMAS PAINE. 229

fast thereto above and below, and as often and wherever the
arch, from its extent, depth, and breadth, requires. When
this arch is to be applied to the purpose of a bridge, which
requires more arches than one, they are to be connected in
the following manner (that is to say) : — Wood piles are to
be driven into the earth ; over each of those piles are to be
let fall a hollow iron or metal case, with a broad foot let into
a bed ; the interspace between the case and the wood pile
to be filled up with a cement and pinned together. The
whole number of those pillars are to be braced together, and
formed into a platform for receiving and connecting the
arches. The interspaces of those pillars may be filled with
plates of iron or lattice work so as to resemble a pier, or left
open so as to resemble a colonade of any of the orders of
architecture. Among the advantages of this construction is
that of rendering the construction of bridges into a portable
manufacture, as the bars and parts of which it is composed
need not be longer or larger than is convenient to be stowed
in a vessel, boat, or waggon, and that with as much compact
ness as iron or timber is transported to or from Great Britain ;
and a bridge of any extent upon this construction may be
manufactured in Great Britain and sent to any part of the
world to be erected. For the purpose of preserving the iron
from dust it is to be varnished over with a coat of melted
glass. It ought to be observed, that extreme simplicity,
though striking to the view, is difficult to be conceived from
description, although such description exactly accords, upon
inspection, with the thing described. A practicable method
of constructing arches to several hundred feet span, with a
small elevation, is the desideratum of bridge architecture,
and it is the principle and practicability of constructing and
connecting such arches so as totally to remove or effectually
lessen the danger and inconvenience of obstructing the chan-
nell of rivers, together with that of adding a new and im
portant manufacture to the iron works of the nation, capable
of transportation and exportation, that is herein described.
When this arch is to be applied to the purpose of a roof and
cieling cords may be added to the arch to supply the want

230 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1788
of butments, which are to be braced to or connected with
the arch by perpendiculars.
In witness whereof, I, the said Thomas Paine, have here
unto set my hand and seal, the Twenty-fifth day of
September, in the year of our Lord One thousand
seven hundred and eighty-eight. Thomas (l.s.) Paine.
Sealed and delivered, being first duly
stamped, in the presence of
Peter Whiteside.
And be it remembered, that on the Twenty-fifth day
of September, in the twenty-eighth year of the reign of His
Majesty King George the Third, the said Thomas Paine
came before our said Lord the King in His Chancery, and
acknowledged the Instrument aforesaid, and all and every
& thing therein contained and specified, in form above written.
^ And also the Instrument aforesaid was stamped according
o to the tenor of the several Statutes made in the sixth year
of the reign of the late King and Queen William and Mary
of England, and so forth, and in the seventeenth and twenty-
third years of the reign of His Majesty King George the
Third. Inrolled the said Twenty-fifth day of September, in the
year last above written.

£>

LETTER TO JEFFERSON IN PARIS.
No. 13 Broad Street Buildings,
London, Feb. 16, 1789.
" Dear Sir : — Your favour of the 23d Dec'r continued to
the — of Jan'y came safe to hand ; for which I thank you.
I begin this without knowing of any opportunity of convey
ance, and shall follow the method of your letter by writing
on till an opportunity offers. I thank you for the many
and judicious observations about my bridge. I am exactly
in your Ideas, as you will perceive by the following account.
— I went to the Iron Works [Yorkshire] the latter end of
Oct'r. My intention at the time of writing to you was to
construct an experiment arch of 250 feet [an iron Bridge],
but in the first place the season was too far advanced to
work out of doors, and an arch of that extent could not be
worked within doors ; and nextly, there was a prospect of a
real Bridge being wanted on the spot, of 90 feet extent.
The person who appeared disposed to erect a Bridge was
Mr. Foljambe, nephew to the late Sir George Saville, and
Member in the last Parliament for Yorkshire. He lives
about three miles from the Works, and the river Don runs
in front of his house, over which there is an old ill-constructed
Bridge which he wants to remove. These circumstances
determined me to begin an arch of 90 feet, with an elevation
of five feet. — The foreman of the Works is a relative of the
Proprietors [Messrs. Walker], an excellent mechanic, who
fell in with all my Ideas with great ease and penetration. I
staid at the Works till one-half of the Rib, 45 feet, was com-
pleated and framed horizontally together, and came up to
231

232 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1789
London at the meeting of Parliament on the 4th of Decem
ber. The foreman, whom, as I told him, I should appoint
' President of the Board of Works ' in my absence, wrote me
word that he has got the other half together with much less
trouble than the first. He is now preparing for erecting and
I for returning.
" Feb. 26. A few days ago I received a letter from Mr.
Foljambe in which he says, ' I saw the Rib of your Bridge.
In point of elegance and beauty it far exceeded my expecta
tions, and is certainly beyond anything I ever saw.'
" My Model and myself had many visitors while I was at
the Works. A few days after I got there, Lord Fitz
William, heir to the Marquis of Rockingham, came with
Mr. [Edmund] Burke. The former gave the workmen five
guineas and invited me to Wentworth House, a few miles
distant from the Works, where I went, and staid a few
days. " This Bridge I expect will bring forth something greater,
but in the meantime I feel like a bird from its nest [Ameri
ca], and wishing most anxiously to return ; therefore as
soon as I can bring anything to bear I shall dispose of the
contract and bid adieu. I can very truly say that my mind
is not at home.
" I am very much rejoiced at the account you give me of
the state of affairs in France. I feel exceedingly interested
in the affairs of that nation. They are now got or getting
into the right way, and the present reign will be more
immortalized in France than any that ever preceded it:
they have all died away, forgotten in the common mass of
things, but this will be to France like an Anno Mundi, or an
Anno Domini.
"The happiness of doing good, and the pride of doing
great things, unite themselves in this business. But as there
are two kinds of Pride, the little and the great, the privileged
orders will in some degree be governed by this division.
Those of little pride (I mean little-minded pride) will be
schismatical, and those of great pride will be orthodox,
with respect to the States General. Interest will likewise

1789] LETTER TO JEFFERSON IN PARIS. 233
have some share, and could this operate freely it would
arrange itself on the orthodox side. To enrich a nation is
to enrich the individuals which compose it. To enrich the
farmer is to enrich the farm — and consequently the land
lord ; — for whatever the farmer is, the farm will be. The
richer the subject, the richer the revenue, because the con
sumption from which taxes are raised are in proportion to
the abilities of people to consume ; therefore the most effec
tual method to raise both the revenue and the rental of a
country is to raise the condition of the people, — or that
order known in France by the Tiers Etat. But I ought to
ask pardon for entering into reasoning in a letter to you. I
only do it because I like the subject.
" I observe in all the companies I go into the impression
which the present circumstances of France have upon this
country. An internal Alliance [of Throne and People] in
France is an alliance which England never dreamed of, and
which she most dreads. Whether she will be better or worse
tempered afterwards I cannot judge of, but I believe she
will be more cautious in giving offense. She is likewise
impressed with an idea that a negotiation is on foot between
the King [Louis XVI.] and the Emperor [of Germany] for
adding Austrian Flanders to France. This appears to me
such a probable thing, and may be rendered [so] conducive
to the interest of all parties concerned, that I am inclined to
give it credit and wish it success. I hope then to see the
Scheld opened, for it is a sin to refuse the bounties of
Nature. On these matters I shall be glad of your opinion.
I think the States General of Holland could not be in
earnest when they applied to France for the payment of the
quota to the Emperor. All things considered, to request it
was meanness and to expect it absurdity. I am more in
clined to think they made it an opportunity to find how
they stood with France. Absalom (I think it was) set fire
to his brother's field of corn to bring on a conversation.
" March 12. With respect to political matters here the
truth is, the people are fools. They have no discernment
into principles and consequences. Had Mr. Pitt proposed

234 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [^789
a National Convention at the time of the King's insanity,
he had done right ; but instead of this he has absorbed the
right of the Nation into a right of Parliament, — one house
of which (the Peers) is hereditary in its own right, and over
which the people have no control (not as much as they have
over their King) ; and the other elective by only a small
part of the Nation. Therefore he has lessened instead of
increased the rights of the people ; but as they have not
sense enough to see it, they have been huzzaing him. There
can be no fixed principles of government, or anything like a
Constitution, in a country where the government can alter
itself, or one part of it supply the other.
" Whether a man that has been so compleatly mad as not
to be managed but by force and the mad shirt can ever be
confided in afterwards as a reasonable man, is a matter I
have very little opinion of. Such a circumstance, in my
estimation, if mentioned, ought to be a perpetual disqualifi
cation. " Had the Regency gone on and the new Administration
been formed I should have been able to communicate some
matters of business to you, both with respect to America
and France, as an interview for that purpose was agreed
upon, and to take place as soon as the persons who were to
fill the offices should succeed. I am the more confidential
with those persons, as they are distinguished by the name of
the Blue and Buff, — a dress taken up during the American
war, and the undress uniform of General Washington with
lapels, which they still wear. But at any rate, I do not
think it worth while for Congress to appoint any Minister
to this Court. The greater distance Congress observes on
this point, the better. It will be all money thrown away to
go to any expense about it, — at least during the present
reign. I know the Nation well, and the line of acquaintance
I am in enables me to judge better than any other American
can judge, especially at a distance. If Congress should have
any business to state to the Government here, it can be
easily done thro' their Minister at Paris ; but the seldomer
the better.

1789] LETTER TO JEFFERSON IN PARIS. 235
" I believe I am not so much in the good graces of the
Marquis of Lansdowne as I used to be. I do not answer
his purpose. He was always talking of a sort of reconnec-
tion of England and America, and my coldness and reserve
on this subject checked communication. I believe he would
be a good Minister for England with respect to a better
agreement with France.
" Remember me to the Marquis de la Fayette, Mr. Le
Roy, Mr. De Corney. Please to inform me if anything
further has been done about the Bridge ; and likewise how
the new Bridge in your neighbourhood goes on.
" I am, Dear Sir, with much respect,
" Your sincere Friend,
" and ob't H'ble servant,
"Thomas Paine."

XI.
THOMAS PAINE'S ANSWER TO FOUR QUES
TIONS ON THE LEGISLATIVE AND
EXECUTIVE POWERS.
Translated from the MS. by Condor cet.
I HAVE received from my friend M  a note contain
ing the four following propositions on which you are kind
enough to desire my opinion. I shall not take up your valua
ble time with compliments and apologies, but as a man who
looks upon himself as a member of the great human family.
On reading the four questions put to T. Paine, one per
ceives the intention of soliciting, and the hope of obtaining
for them, an affirmative answer. The inquirer took care to
let the stern Republican understand that should his opinion
perchance coincide with that hope, he might expect the
1 This newly discovered document is given here though it was written after
Part I. of " Rights of Man " ; and it is given entire, though it anticipates, and
nearly in the same language, one or two passages in Part II. of that work. The
slight differences, and the connection in which the passages were originally
written, are of historical interest. Although the exact date of the composition
is not given, the internal evidence proves it to have been begun in April or May,
1791, Paine being then in Paris, and finished in July of the same year. A
translation of Part I. of " Rights of Man" appeared in Paris in May, and it
will be seen that he was already well advanced on Part II. to which he alludes
as in preparation. This paper, plainly not written for publication, was elicited
by questions put to Paine, probably by Condorcet, perhaps by Lafayette, con
cerning the Constitution just submitted by the National Assembly. In the
following year it was translated by Condorcet, and printed in the Chtonique du
Mots, May, June, July, 1792. The original manuscript has not been dis
covered, and I am indebted to my friend Miss Fritsch for a careful translation
of the work which has before never appeared in English, or in any collection
of Paine's Writings. — Editor. 236

I791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 237
gratitude that a work so conducive to the freedom of the
human race would deserve. But interested and eager as I
am for its happiness wherever it is found on the face of the
earth, and working as a brother and associate with you and
all those who are contributing to its felicity, I will lay before
you, as briefly as I can, the reflexions that your questions
have suggested. In the first place I must warn you that I
shall not stop to consider whether our opinions agree in every
particular ; but in the assurance that our end is one and the
same, I shall limit myself to discussing with you the means
of attaining it.
First you agree that the basis of the French constitution
is good ; then you ask whether it is not defective on several
points, and
1. Whether the legislative and executive powers are
not so unequally balanced that there is cause to fear lest the
former should encroach upon the latter?
2. Whether the executive power is not too weak to
insure obedience to the law and to secure the respect and
confidence of the people ?
3. Whether it is not to be feared that the legislative body
consisting of one single chamber will be carried away by its
own impetuosity and lack self-restraint ?
4. Whether the organization of the system of adminis
tration is not too complicated and of a kind to make anarchy
lasting ?
I shall first impart to you a few reflexions on these ques
tions considered separately. I shall next add some remarks
that embrace them all. Finally, without examining whether
the French constitution is defective and could be improved
by being added to, or curtailed, I will lay before you some
easy means of modifying it without disturbing the order of
government should experience show the necessity of such
modifications. With regard to your opening declaration that the basis of
the constitution is good, this basis being no other than the
rights of man, it rests on truths so well demonstrated that
they can no longer be a subject of discussion — I will merely

238 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
quote and apply to those who dispute them the well-known
saying : The fool hath said in his heart there is no God.
FIRST QUESTION.
Are not the legislative and executive powers too un
equally balanced, and is there not cause to fear that the
former will encroach upon the latter ?
If we consider the legislative and executive powers as
emanating from a common source, the nation, and as a dis
tribution of the national power aiming at the general good,
it will be difficult to perceive any motive why the one should
encroach upon the other, or to conceive any advantage to
be derived by either from the success of such an undertak
ing. But if, on the contrary, we look upon these two powers
as having a different origin and struggling against each
other, the one for the rights of the nation, and the other for
rights that are not those of the nation, your question is no
longer the same, and the fear it formulates is no longer fear
of evil, but fear for the public safety.
As your terms do not show under which of these two
aspects it should be considered, and as it is difficult to discuss
separately a question which is directly dependent on a pre
ceding one, I will use to its full extent the liberty which the
vagueness of the proposition allows me and put down a few
remarks as they suggest themselves to my mind. I shall
thus carry the problem to the point of solution rather than
solve it myself.
Nations suffer so universally from the fatal custom of be
ing ill governed, and the human soul " cribbed, cabined and
confined " through so many centuries, is so unaccustomed
to light, that it may be doubted whether the faculty of dis
tinguishing prismatic hues is as yet fully developed within
it. If we rid our ideas of all superfluous words, and consider
them in their natural bareness and simplicity, we perceive
(as in the very forms of the proposition) only two main
divisions of the powers that constitute government : the
power of making laws, and that of causing them to be car-

I791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 239

ried out or administered. Thus all that pertains to govern
ment naturally falls under one or the other of these primary
divisions. We have, I think, generally a more precise and fuller con
ception of the nature of the legislative power than of the
executive. By the first, we merely mean the delegated
power of making laws in conformity with the basis and prin
ciples of the constitution. For, without this conformity, the
legislative power would only be despotic power disguised
under another name.
But, when we examine the executive power in the vague
sense generally given to that term, we have not so precise
or so clear an idea of it as we have of the legislative power.
This idea seems to carry with it some admixture of arbitrary
power, with the inevitable result of creating suspicion rather
than confidence. Consequently, until these powers shall
have been defined with equal precision, it is difficult to
treat of the propositions that relate to them.
But, if any mutual invasion of these two powers be pos
sible, it is as possible on the part of the one as of the other ;
and in this alternative, I should deem that nation safer
where an elected legislative body should possess itself of the
executive, than where a non-elected executive should assume
the power of making laws.
Independently of these considerations, I own that I do
not see how a government can with any exactness be com
pared to a pair of scales. What is there to balance? A
balance suggests the idea of opposition. This figure of
speech is, I think, borrowed from England, where circum
stances had, at first, given it some appropriateness. The
English government being a tyranny founded on the Nor
man Conquest, the nation has constantly sought a counter
poise to what it could not remove.
With the Norman Conquest, aristocracy came in, and the
nation had to struggle against a host of obstacles. The
weight of the nation was then in the scale against the ruling
powers. It is what has since been called the national interest
to distinguish it from the interest 0/THE COURT.

24O THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
But the metaphor of a pair of scales is inconceivable in a
country where all the powers of government have a common
origin. In this case, the idea of two extremities in opposi
tion to each other disappears, and we see only one edifice
where union and harmony are the order of the day.
II.
I pass on to the second question, namely " Whether the
executive power is not too weak to insure obedience to the
law and to secure the respect and confidence of the people ? "
When there is a fundamental objection to the first proposi
tion, this objection reappears necessarily in all the proposi
tions that are derived from that first one, and here I ask
again, What is the executive power ? If, by this expression,
is meant the power of carrying out the laws, these words refer
naturally to every tribunal and court of justice whose busi
ness it is to enforce the law, since the last recourse is to
them, wherever it is violated. The legislature is particularly
interested in maintaining the power of the executive, consid
ered from this point of view ; for if the enforcement of the
law is weakened, the laws themselves, and those who made
them, will be weakened in proportion. But, if it should be
admitted that the executive is no longer able to enforce obedi
ence to the laws and secure the respect and obedience of the
people, a great question presents itself, namely, what is the
cause of this incapacity ?
This question leads us to consider the term executive
power, as referring, not to the immediate carrying out of the
laws, but as designating a medium or centre through which
they must pass to reach the point of execution. And this
brings our thoughts to bear on that part of the constitution
called the monarchy.
The original and direct meaning of the word " monarch "
is absolute power concentrated in one man. This meaning is
always the same and suffers no other interpretation. It
must be admitted that the constitution, although sublime in
its principles, offers here a contradiction between ideas and

1791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 241
terms, and as such a contradiction ever brings suspicion in
its train, let us examine to what extent suspicion leads, in
its turn, to non-execution of the law.
If a remembrance of the nature and extent of monarchical
power in old days, and the idea that is attached to those
terms, continue to be identified with that of executive
power, every scheme likely to strengthen the latter will only
tend to increase suspicion and diminish confidence.
If there were a law of Nature, or a decree of the Almighty,
made known to men, by which He had determined that all
the successive holders of the same power should be endowed
with the same heart, and that heart never deceived, suspi
cions, fears, and alarms would be appeased. But when we
see Nature act as if she were determined to disown the
monarchical system, producing monarchs as diverse in
character as in person, making one wicked, the other stupid,
a third mad, and another all these things at once, will it be
possible, so long as reason remains a faculty of man, for
him to give the least credence to this hereditary absurdity ?
If the French should scorn reflexion as long as the English
have done, their lethargic indifference might look like happi
ness, and their thoughtlessness like confidence; but confi
dence, to be lasting, must be an edifice raised by time on the
foundation of reason. III.
I pass on to the third question : Is there not cause to fear
that the legislative body, composed of a single chamber, maybe
carried away by its own impetuosity aud lack self-restraint ?
This question may be considered under so many aspects,
each of which is open to so many arguments, that it seems
as yet hardly susceptible of a positive answer. I will never
theless give you my ideas on this point.
A Constitution, in defining the limits of power, together
with the principles which the legislature is bound to obey,
has already provided a most powerful and trustworthy check
upon any abuse of power.
VOL. II. — 16

242 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
If, for instance, a law were proposed in one of the legisla
tures of America, like that passed in the English Parliament
(at the beginning of the reign of George I.), to prolong the
duration of these Parliaments, such a law could never pass,
because the constitution is opposed to it and says : " Thus
far shall ye go and no farther."
But, although all the restrictions to power under its various
forms should be provided for by the constitution itself, much
will always have to be left to the prudence and discretion of
the different legislative bodies.
However much skill is displayed in combining the various
powers of a constitution, if you establish two chambers you
cannot calculate beforehand, with any certainty, the degree
of restraint they will exercise upon each other. They may
have an understanding not to use that power of mutual re
straint, either for good or for evil ; but a check provided by
the constitution will have a certain and beneficial effect.
As to my private opinion, I should prefer for the reasons
I shall unfold, that the legislature should be divided in two
sections at the beginning of a debate, to its being always one
body, or to its forming two separate bodies.
It seems to me that in this matter of the division of the
legislative body, reason is not so much to be taken into con
sideration, as the passions of men. For, whenever the object
is to convince or to persuade, the influence of these passions
should be turned to account.
Wherever the legislative body consists of one single cham
ber, it runs the risk of coming to rash decisions; whereas
division offers one chance more for collected judgement.
There is no doubt that discussion sheds light, and that a
superior man may sometimes derive benefit from the ideas
of a person less enlightened than himself. But, if he means
to carry out these ideas, it is best he should himself take but
little part in the debate. I suppose therefore that the legis
lative body consists of 100 persons : instead of opening the
debate in one assembly, divide the chamber into two equal
sections that shall deal with some question, not at the same
time, but successively. By this means, one section would

1791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 243
listen to the arguments of the other, and when each separately
should have closed the debate, it might be renewed and the
vote put in the general assembly. I think therefore it might
be possible to hit on some scheme preferable to one cham
ber, as at present established, and free from the drawbacks
1 that result from two chambers, some of which I shall proceed
to state.
In the first place, it is illogical that one division of the
legislature should have the power of coming to a final de
cision on any one question while this question is still under
discussion by another body and consequently still open to
new lights.
Secondly, it is possible and constantly happens that when
the votes of each chamber are taken separately, the minority
governs the majority in a way both shocking and ridiculous.
Let us suppose, for instance, that the two chambers are
composed of 50 members each. If unanimity exists in the
one, and the other be divided in the proportion of 26 votes
against 24— then 26 shall carry it against 74, that is, one-
fourth of the votes and one over, shall govern the other
three-fourths. If the chambers are in the proportion of 60
to 40, 70 to 30, or 80 to 20, the evil is greater still, for then
eleven votes can carry it against 89, if these eleven votes are
at the same time in opposition to the nine of their own, and
to the totality of the other chamber.
But if the legislative body be only divided in order to fa
cilitate debate and not for the purpose of carrying resolu
tions, all the advantages of separate discussion result from
this division without the drawbacks of two chambers.
As to the two chambers which constitute the Parliament
of England, they seem absolutely fused into one, and as
legislative bodies to have no special character of their own.
In all respects they take that of the Premier of the day,
whatever it be, and whatever the epoch of his premiership.
He touches them with his soporific wand, and at once they
fall into the sleep of subserviency.
If we consider the individual merit of those who compose
these two chambers, we shall see that the one whose very

244 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
name (House of Lords *) is an outrage on nature, has been
very justly deprived of talent and virtues by nature herself.
Pitiable though the representation of England is, the Com
mons are in a virile state compared to the Lords. That
wretched assembly is so little considered and appears so
puerile, that the people never ask what it is about. It also
comes most under ministerial influence. In the debate on
war with Russia, the minister had a majority of over 90 in
the Lords, whilst in the other chamber, which is twice as
numerous, he had only a majority of 63. Chesterfield, a
member of that assembly, and one of those who knew it
best, had nicknamed it " the Hospital for Incurables."
I am little inclined to admit the idea of two chambers with
an arbitrary and reciprocal veto. Nothing in the principle
of good representation shows that the one may be wiser than
the other, and thus to intrust power where wisdom cannot
be given to use it is as much to run a risk as to take a
precaution. All human institutions having been improved since their
origin, we must believe that the representative system will be
improved too and this hope is all the better established that
this system is among our institutions one of those which
have met with the greatest number of obstacles and have
had the best chance of being perfected.
IV.
I pass on to the fourth question— Whether the organiza
tion of the administrative system is not too complicated and
of such a nature as to perpetuate anarchy ?
A great advance has been made in the science of govern
ment (especially where the state is of considerable extent)
by the institution of a system which puts each part of a
country in a position to govern all its private affairs. Not
only is private and public business simplified thereby, but
the waste of time and the expense consequent upon admin
istration from a distance are avoided, as well as the mistakes
that such a system of jurisdiction entails.
* Lord means Master. — Author.

I791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 245
Although the general utility of the institution referred to
above is evident, a particular knowledge of local circum
stances is necessary to judge of its details. I own I do not
possess this particular knowledge, my purpose being rather
to elucidate general principles of government ; for, if these
be good, the application of them to particular cases, will be
good also. The science of government being still in its in
fancy I am satisfied with hoping that no system will be
established likely to prevent us from profiting by the lessons
of experience.
In spite of the study which has been made of the science
of government, of its principles, its operations, and its mani
fold results, the following question has not yet been suffi
ciently examined, nor has enough light been thrown upon
it : How small a measure of government is necessary to
civilized man?
I cannot now go thoroughly into this question. To do so
would be to exceed the limits I have prescribed to myself.
Moreover, it is being considered in a work of mine now in
course of composition.
But I am very decided in the opinion that the sum of
necessary government is much less than is generally thought,
and that we are not yet rid of the habit of excessive
government. If I ask any one to what extent he thinks himself in need
of being governed, he gives me to understand that in his
case "a little would be enough"; and I receive the same
answer from every one. But if, reversing the question, I
ask the same man what amount of government he deems
necessary for another, he answers : " a great deal." As that
other person decides the question in the same way for every
body else, the result of all these answers is excess of govern
ment. I conclude therefore that the amount really necessary
is to be found between these two extremes. It is, namely,
a little more than each wants for himself and a good deal
less than he thinks necessary for others. Excess of govern
ment only tends to incite to and to create crimes which else
had never existed.

246 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
The wretched traffic of former governments was in a great
measure upheld by the care they took to throw everywhere
seeds of division, and to encourage the growth of suspicion,
not only from nation to nation, but also from man to man.
Such a traffic can only perpetuate itself by destroying the
very principles of society, and we are still suffering from the
effects of that rotten system. We must therefore consider
that the moral condition of man must needs change, and
that under better principles of government, he will cease to
be the suspicious creature he inevitably was under former
systems. Already, as nations come nearer to adopting the
principles of civilized government, the human mind acquires
a new faculty. The people of England and those of France
are no longer what they were two years ago with respect to
each other, and the same principles that actuate the bulk of
these nations will prevail in the private relations of each.
P But the moral changes which obtain between nations, or
between individuals, although very rapid in their operation
when they lead to evil, are very slow when they lead to
good. It is easy enough to prompt suspicion, but difficult
to eradicate it. Force cannot kill it : it must be under-
/ mined silently, and it will crumble away without noise.
If we consider the situation of France under the old
regime, we see a government founded on suspicion, conse
quently on spies and eaves-droppers, whose business it was
to report everything to the police. Every social circle was
accustomed to suspect one or other of its members ; con
fidence, except as a word, did not exist. The master
suspected his servants, neighbours suspected each other,
government suspected them all, and all suspected govern
ment. Therefore, we should rather wonder at the new
regime being able to obtain the degree of confidence it does
enjoy, than lament its not obtaining more. So much must
needs be forgotten in this respect, that I wish the nation had
no memory for the past.
I now come to the last part of my letter — to the considera
tion of the best means of perfecting the constitution (should
experience show the necessity of it) without interrupting the

I791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 247
course of government. The best way to do so would be to
insert in the constitution a clause by which the method of
these improvements would be determined. As opinion is
divided on this point, I shall make it the object of a special
discussion. So far, France has been without a Constitution :
not only is she now on the eve of establishing one, but of
electing a legislative assembly. In this condition of things,
it is more than ever necessary to distinguish between the
situation of the nation, when delegating power to form a
constitution, and its situation afterwards, when obliged to
delegate its authority to a legislative body, organized in
accordance with that constitution. The constitution itself,
and the laws, are two things essentially distinct from the
power of framing laws to meet special circumstances, in
accordance with the principles of that constitution. If the
primal authority to form a constitution were to come down
as an inheritance to every legislative body in succession, it
is clear there would no longer be such a thing as a constitu
tion ; and legislation having become arbitrary, as in Eng
land, it would without difficulty set up any government it
liked. The present National Assembly, or to speak more
exactly and to distinguish it from ordinary legislatures, the
National Assembly of the Convention, has been obliged by
stress of circumstance to take the place of a legislature, at
the same time that it was framing a constitution. It was
called upon to destroy, to construct, and to provide for
immediate needs, whilst completing the new edifice. The
mass of business was enormous and its attention was called
for on every side at the same time. Without mentioning
the special business which occupied the Assembly, its
labours, in order to frame a constitution, come under two
heads : what it has destroyed, what it has built up. With
respect to the first head, it could not err; for the old
edifice rested on an evil foundation, that is on usurped
power. After thus simplifying the question, it remains only to
examine the second head, namely what has been set up in
lieu of the old edifice.

248 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
The foundations, on which the new rests are undisputa-
bly good, and that alone is sufficient compensation for
all the nation has suffered. But have the old materials
been used too sparingly, or with too free a hand, in the
new building? Do all the parts present an exact sym
metry ? Is this symmetry greater or less than experience
shows to be necessary? These are points on which ex
perience itself can alone pronounce. All the wisdom of
the present moment must limit itself to putting no obstacles
in the way of the improvement that time may bring.
Meanwhile the world is perfectly agreed on two points :
the boldness of the undertaking, and the perseverance dis
played in carrying it out. It is natural that zeal, together
with the fear of a return of bad government, should have
induced the men to whom the power of framing a consti
tution had been delegated, to establish permanently what
is only relatively good, instead of risking a return of
former evils. But since this final settlement prevents what
is good from becoming better, the wisdom of such a
measure is at least doubtful. The degree of enlighten
ment attained by a nation, or more generally by the
world, is one of the points to be considered. Reason is
beginning to throw such strong daylight upon all political
questions that we should boldly and magnanimously re
pulse every sort of fear lest man should sink back in the
black night of ignorance ; and since, in all countries what
ever, the interest of the greatest number makes for good
rather than for evil, these different causes working together
will bring the science of government to a degree of per
fection of which we can, as yet, form no idea. We should
not therefore hinder its progress. While it would not be
wise in us to fetter ourselves, with respect to posterity it
would be usurpation. Man has no authority over posterity
— if he had, our rights Would long since have been lost.
Pride inclines us too much to cast our eyes toward the
future, when considering this question ; whereas, the best
way of doing so, would be to reflect on the past, and see to
what state we should be reduced, had our ancestors sue-

1791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 249
ceeded in putting upon us with any show of legitimacy, the
yoke we are trying to impose upon our descendants. We
should not have been able to do what we are doing at the
present moment. It is not enough that man should have
the enjoyment of his rights. The exercise of these rights
must be secured to him by the principles of social order.
The best we can do for our children in the matter of gov
ernment, is to bequeath to them freedom together with good
examples. What is worthy of imitation will necessarily be
imitated. The intrinsic merit of our institutions, and not
the checks we might put upon posterity, will determine it
to imitate these institutions. When a man bequeaths an
inheritance, he does not impose upon his heirs the obliga
tion to accept it ; such a condition would be absolutely null
and void. The inheritance will be accepted if it is worth
anything, and refused if it be valueless. Can it be other
wise with respect to government ? The rights of man are
the rights of all generations. We should not let anxiety ior
their welfare carry us to the pitch of doubting their capacity.
They might be wiser than we are. Let us not therefore be
so blind as to usurp a power to which we have no right.
The means of amending itself is a very important part of
the constitution. It is perhaps impossible to combine in
one institution principles, opinions and practice, in such a
way that time shall bring no alterations and show no draw
backs. The best way to obviate such an increase of these
drawbacks as might discourage attempts at reform or pro
voke revolutions, is to provide means of correcting them as
they arise. Such a constitution may be called a perpetual
constitution, but no other deserves that name. The consti
tution of Pennsylvania, established 1776 by the convention
of which Benjamin Franklin was president, contained a
statute to the effect that at the end of seven years (a term
of years supposed to extend beyond the duration of the war)
a new convention should be elected to revise the constitu
tion, to compare it with public opinion and to propose such
additions or retrenchments as might be deemed useful or
necessary. But the proposed amendments were to be the

25O THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
object of public attention for a considerable time before
being either rejected or confirmed. This clause was altered
in a subsequent convention, and the right of the nation to
alter or perfect the constitution whenever she should deem it
necessary was substituted for it.
For my part I think that a periodical exercise of that
right is preferable to the above general declaration ; for, at
the same time that the periodic exercise of their power does
not destroy the everlasting right, it provides frequent
opportunities of using it and thus helps to keep govern
ment within the principles of the constitution.
The federal government, or that which embraces the
whole of the United States, framed by the convention of
1787, under the Presidency of General Washington, to-day
President of Congress, also contains a clause which admits
of every future improvement ; but to bring these about
recourse must be had to the authority of the people, and
to those very means by which the constitution itself was
framed. Whilst establishing a good government, it is
necessary to provide means to keep it so.
This precaution is in fact so necessary that a constitution
would be incomplete without it. Experience having shown
us how very difficult it is to carry out reforms, it is to the
real advantage of posterity that we should devise before
hand means for their accomplishment.
A constitution which contains a clause giving facilities
for its amendment, is protected against all opposition ; for the
hopes that may desire improvements, or what they look
upon as such, will operate to bring them the means which
the constitution furnishes and by doing so, will carry on its
authority. This measure has another advantage. It defines
precisely wherein consists the crime of high treason against
the constitution itself — to seek to alter any part of it by other
means than those it furnishes (means equally within reach of
all citizens) is a clear definition of those terms and serves to
impress, not merely on individuals, but on the holders of
power also, a wholesome fear lest they should prove guilty
of high treason. The authority to frame a constitution

1791] ON LEGISLATIVE AND EXECUTIVE POWERS. 25 1
does not necessarily imply the authority to establish it : it
must first be proposed and then approved before the power
to establish it can exist. It is thus the matter has been
settled in America. But, in spite of different methods of
action having been followed in that country and in France,
results in both have shown a good deal of similarity. The
American Convention did not allow any part of its labours
to appear until it was completed, when it published the
whole and gave public opinion time to sanction it before
putting it into execution. The French National Assembly,
on the contrary, has published its work as it proceeded with
it, beginning with the declaration of rights. Both methods
therefore are alike in one particular, namely in appealing to
the public approbation, and either system may be equally
good. It is not necessary, in order to add a precautionary clause,
to examine whether the constitution is so perfect as to be
under no need, or even susceptibility, of improvement.
This clause extends to any alteration the constitution may
require in the future, and to what we cannot even foresee.
I do not believe that the men now living have produced
every possible thought on government, and the Abbe" Raynal
has just proved to us that ancient errors have not yet died
of old age.
When the general principles of a constitution are sound,
the minor reforms which experience may demand are so
easy to bring about that the nation will never be tempted
to let abuses accumulate. It seems to me good policy to
fix the date for the first revision of the constitution to
seven years hence; for before those years are over, its
advantages and defects will have had time to make them
selves known. We should remark also that some of the
most important articles of the constitution have not been
the result of reflexion, but of special circumstances ; such,
for instance, is the decree on the right of peace and war.
As, on the other hand, it is not to be supposed that the
space of two years (the time which the Assembly took to
frame the constitution) has been sufficient to produce every

252 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
possible circumstance, it is well, on the supposition of neces-
• sary additions or amendments, that the first period of
revision should not be deferred to a too distant date. It is
not impossible — nay, it is even probable — that the whole
system of government in Europe will change, that the
ferocious use of war, — that truly barbarous cause of wretched
ness, poverty and taxation, — will yield to pacific means
of putting an end to quarrels among nations. Government
is now being revolutionized from West to East by a move
ment more rapid than the impulse it formerly received from
East to West. I wish the National Assembly may be bold
enough to propose a Convention elected by the different
peoples of Europe for the general welfare of that portion
of the world. Freedom for ourselves is merely happiness :
-it becomes virtue when we seek to enable others to enjoy it.
A journey has prevented my finishing sooner this letter,
begun more than five weeks ago. Since that time, circum
stances have changed in France, owing to the flight and
arrestation of Louis XVI. Every successive event incites
man to reason. He proceeds from idea to idea, from thought
to thought, without perceiving the immense progress he is
making. Those who believe that France has reached the
end of its political knowledge, will soon find themselves, not
only mistaken, but left behind, unless they themselves ad
vance at the same rate. Every day brings forth something
new. The mind, after having fought kings as individuals,
must look upon them as part of a system of government,
and conclude that what is called monarchy is only a super
stition and a political fraud, unworthy of an enlightened
people. It is with monarchy as with all those things which
depend on some slavish habit of mind.
Could we draw a circle round a man, and say to him : You
cannot get out of this, for beyond is an abyss ready to swal
low you up — he will remain there as long as the terror of
the impression endures. But if, by a happy chance, he sets
one foot outside the magic circle, the other will not be slow
to follow.
Thomas Paine.

XII.
ADDRESS AND DECLARATION.
At a select Meeting of the Friends of Universal Peace and
Liberty, held at the Thatched House Tavern, St. James's
Street, August 20, r?pi, the following Address and Dec
laration to our Fellow Citizens was agreed on and ordered
to be published.
Friends and Fellow Citizens,
At a moment like the present, when wilful misrepresenta
tions are industriously spread by the partizans of arbitrary
power, and the advocates of passive obedience and court
government, we think it incumbent on us to declare to the
world our principles, and the motives of our conduct.
We rejoice at the glorious event of the French Revolu
tion. If it be asked : What is the French Revolution to us ?
We answer, (as it has been already answered in another
place,*) // is much to us as men : much to us as English
men. As men we rejoice in the freedom of twenty-five millions
of our fellow men. We rejoice in the prospect which such
a magnificent example opens to the world. We congratulate
the French nation for having laid the axe to the root of
tyranny, and for erecting government on the sacred heredi
tary rights of man— Rights which appertain to ALL, and not
to any one more than to another. We know of no human
authority superior to that of a whole nation ; and we pro-
* Declaration of the Volunteers of Belfast. — Author.
253

254 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i79I
fess and proclaim it as our principle that every nation has at
all times an inherent indefeasible right to constitute and
establish such government for itself as best accords with its
disposition, interest, and happiness.
As Englishmen we also rejoice, because we are immediately
interested in the French Revolution.
Without enquiring into the justice on either side of the
reproachful charges of intrigue and ambition, which the
English and French Courts have constantly made on each
other, we confine ourselves to this observation : — That if the
Court of France only was in fault, and the numerous wars '
which have distressed both countries, are chargeable to her
alone, that Court now exists no longer ; and the cause and
the consequence must cease together. The French, there
fore, by the revolution they have made, have conquered for
us as well as for themselves ; if it be true that their Court
only was in fault, and ours never.
On this state of the case, the French Revolution concerns
us immediately. We are oppressed with a heavy national
debt, a burthen of taxes, and an expensive administration of
government, beyond those of any people in the world. We
have also a very numerous poor ; and we hold that the moral
obligation of providing for old age, helpless infancy, and
poverty, is far superior to that of supplying the invented
wants of courtly extravagance, ambition, and intrigue.
We believe there is no instance to be produced but in
England, of seven millions of inhabitants, which make but
little more than one million of families, paying yearly SEVEN
TEEN MILLIONS of taxes.
As it has always been held out by all administrations that
the restless ambition of the Court of France rendered this
expense necessary to us for our own defence, we conse
quently rejoice as men deeply interested in the French
Revolution, for that Court, as we have already said, exists
no longer ; and consequently the same enormous expenses
need not continue to us.
Thus rejoicing, as we sincerely do, both as men and Eng
lishmen, as lovers of universal peace and freedom, and as

I791] ADDRESS AND DECLARATION. 255
friends to our own national prosperity, and a reduction of
our public expenses, we cannot but express our astonish
ment that any part, or any members of our own govern
ment, should reprobate the extinction of that very power in
France, or wish to see it restored, to whose influence they
formerly attributed (whilst they appeared to lament) the
enormous increase of our own burthens and taxes. What,
then, are they sorry that the pretence for new oppressive
taxes, and the occasion for continuing many of the old taxes,
will be at an end ? If so, and if it is the policy of courts
and of court governments, to prefer enemies to friends, and
a system of war to that of peace, as affording more pretences
for places, offices, pensions, revenue, and taxation, it is high
time for the people of every nation to look with circum
spection to their own interests.
Those who pay the expense, and not those who participate
in the emoluments arising from it, are the persons immedi
ately interested in inquiries of this kind. We are a part of
that national body, on whom this annual expense of seven
teen millions falls ; and we consider the present opportunity
of the French Revolution as a most happy one for lessen
ing the enormous load under which this nation groans. If
this be not done, we shall then have reason to conclude,
that the cry of intrigue and ambition against other courts, is
no more than the common cant of all courts.
We think it also necessary to express our astonishment
that a government, desirous of being called FREE, should
prefer connection with the most despotic and arbitrary
powers in Europe. We know of none more deserving this
description than those of Turkey and Prussia, and the whole
combination of German despots. Separated as we happily
are by nature, from the tumults of the Continent, we repro
bate all systems and intrigues which sacrifice (and that too
at a great expense) the blessings of our natural situation.
Such systems cannot have a national origin.
If we are asked, what government is?— We hold it to be
nothing more than a NATIONAL ASSOCIATION, and we hold
that to be the best which secures to every man his rights,

256 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
and promotes the greatest quantity of happiness with the
least expence.
We live to improve, or we live in vain ; and therefore we
admit of no maxims of government or policy on the mere
score of antiquity, or other men's authority, the old whigs
or the new.
We will exercise the reason with which we are endued, or
we possess it unworthily. As reason is given at all times, it
is for the purpose of being used at all times.
Among the blessings which the French Revolution has
produced to that nation, we enumerate the abolition of the
feudal system of injustice and tyranny on the 4th of August,
1789. Beneath the feudal system all Europe has long
groaned, and from it England is not yet free. Game laws,
borough tenures, and tyrannical monopolies of numerous
kinds, still remain amongst us ; but rejoicing as we sincerely
do, in the freedom of others, till we shall happily accomplish
our own, we intended to commemorate this prelude to the
universal extirpation of the feudal system, by meeting on
the anniversary of that day (the 4th of August) at the Crown
and Anchor. From this meeting we were prevented by the
interference of certain unnamed and skulking persons with
the master of the Tavern, who informed us, that on their
representations he could not receive us. Let those who live
by, or countenance feudal oppressions, take the reproach of
this ineffectual meanness and cowardice to themselves.
They cannot stifle the public declaration of our honest,
open, and avowed opinions.
These are our principles, and these our sentiments. They
embrace the interest and happiness of the great body of the
nation of which we are a part. As to riots and tumults, let
those answer for them, who, by wilful misrepresentations,
endeavor to excite and promote them ; or who seek to stun
the sense of the nation, and to lose the great cause of' public
good in the outrages of a misinformed mob. We take our
ground on principles that require no such riotous aid. We
have nothing to apprehend from the poor ; for we are plead
ing their cause. And we fear not proud oppression, for we

i79i]

ADDRESS AND DECLARATION.

257

have truth on our side. We say, and we repeat it, that the
French Revolution opens to the world an opportunity in
which all good citizens must rejoice — that of promoting the
general happiness of man. And that it moreover offers to
this country in particular, an opportunity of reducing our
enormous taxes.
These are our objects, and we will pursue them.
J. Horne Tooke, Chairman.1
1 Only signed by Tooke as Chairman, but written by Paine. — Editor.
vol. n. — 17

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XIII.
RIGHTS OF MAN.
editor's introduction.
When Thomas Paine sailed from America for France, in
April, 1787, he was perhaps as happy a man as any in the
world. His most intimate friend, Jefferson, was Minister at
Paris, and his friend Lafayette was the idol of France. His
fame had preceded him, and he at once became, in Paris, the
centre of the same circle of savants and philosophers that
had surrounded Franklin. His main reason for proceeding
at once to Paris was that he might submit to the Academy
of Sciences his invention of an iron bridge, and with its
favorable verdict he came to England, in September. He
at once went to his aged mother at Thetford, leaving with a
publisher (Ridgway), his " Prospects on the Rubicon." He
next made arrangements to patent his bridge, and to con
struct at Rotherham the large model of it exhibited on Pad-
dington Green, London. He was welcomed in England by
leading statesmen, such as Lansdowne and Fox, and above
all by Edmund Burke, who for some time had him as a
guest at Beaconsfield, and drove him about in various parts
of the country. He had not the slightest revolutionary pur
pose, either as regarded England or France. Towards Louis
XVI. he felt only gratitude for the services he had rendered
America, and towards George III. he felt no animosity what
ever. His four months' sojourn in Paris had convinced him
that there was approaching a reform of that country after
the American model, except that the Crown would be pre
served, a compromise he approved, provided the throne
 258
179I] RIGHTS OF MAN. 259

should not be hereditary. Events in France travelled more
swiftly than he had anticipated, and Paine was summoned
by Lafayette, Condorcet, and others, as an adviser in the
formation of a new constitution.
Such was the situation immediately preceding the political
and literary duel between Paine and Burke, which in the
event turned out a tremendous war between Royalism and
Republicanism in Europe. Paine was, both in France and
in England, the inspirer of moderate counsels. Samuel
Rogers relates that in early life he dined at a friend's house
in London with Thomas Paine, when one of the toasts given
was the " memory of Joshua," — in allusion to the Hebrew
leader's conquest of the kings of Canaan, and execution of
them. Paine observed that he would not treat kings like
Joshua. " I 'm of the Scotch parson's opinion," he said,
" when he prayed against Louis XIV.- — 'Lord, shake him
over the mouth of hell, but don't let him drop ! ' " Paine
then gave as his toast, " The Republic of the World," — which
Samuel Rogers, aged twenty-nine, noted as a sublime idea.
This was Paine's faith and hope, and with it he confronted
the revolutionary storms which presently burst over France
and England.
Until Burke's arraignment of France in his parliamentary
speech (February 9, 1790), Paine had no doubt whatever
that he would sympathize with the movement in France, and
wrote to him from that country as if conveying glad tidings.
Burke's " Reflections on the Revolution in France " ap
peared November 1, 1790, and Paine at once set himself to
answer it. He was then staying at the Angel Inn, Islington.
The inn has been twice rebuilt since that time, and from its
contents there is preserved only a small image, which per
haps was meant to represent " Liberty," — possibly brought
from Paris by Paine as an ornament for his study. From
the Angel he removed to a house in Harding Street, Fetter
Lane. Rickman says Part First of " Rights of Man " was
finished at Versailles, but probably this has reference to the
preface only, as I cannot find Paine in France that year until
April 8. The book had been printed by Johnson, in time

260 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
for the opening of Parliament, in February ; but this pub
lisher became frightened after a few copies were out (there
is one in the British Museum), and the work was transferred
to J. S. Jordan, 166 Fleet Street, with a preface sent from
Paris (not contained in Johnson's edition, nor in the Ameri
can editions). The pamphlet, though sold at the same price
as Burke's, three shillings, had a vast circulation, and Paine
gave the proceeds to the Constitutional Societies which
sprang up under his teachings in various parts of the
country. Soon after appeared Burke's " Appeal from the New to
the Old Whigs." In this Burke quoted a good deal from
" Rights of Man," but replied to it only with exclamation
points, saying that the only answer such ideas merited was
" criminal justice." Paine's Part Second followed, published
February 17, 1792. In Part First Paine had mentioned a
rumor that Burke was a masked pensioner (a charge that
will be noticed in connection with its detailed statement in
a further publication) ; and as Burke had been formerly
arraigned in Parliament, while Paymaster, for a very ques
tionable proceeding, this charge no doubt hurt a good deal.
Although the government did not follow Burke's suggestion
of a prosecution at that time, there is little doubt that it was
he who induced the prosecution of Part Second. Before the
trial came on, December 18, 1792, Paine was occupying his
seat in the French Convention, and could only be outlawed.
Burke humorously remarked to a friend of Paine and
himself, " We hunt in pairs." The severally representative
character aud influence of these two men in the revolu
tionary era, in France and England, deserve more adequate
study than they have received. While Paine maintained
freedom of discussion, Burke first proposed criminal pros-
jecution for sentiments by no means libellous (such as Paine's
Part First). While Paine was endeavoring to make the
movement in France peaceful, Burke fomented the league
of monarchs against France which maddened its people,
and brought on the Reign of Terror. While Paine was
endeavoring to preserve the French throne ("phantom"

179I] RIGHTS OF MAN. 26l

though he believed it), to prevent bloodshed, Burke was
secretly writing to the Queen of France, entreating her not to
compromise^, and to " trust to the support of foreign armies "
("Histoire de France depuis 1789." Henri Martin, i., 151).
While Burke thus helped to bring the King and Queen to
the guillotine, Paine pleaded for their lives to the last mo
ment. While Paine maintained the right of mankind to
improve their condition, Burke held that " the awful Author^
of our being is the author of our place in the order of ex
istence ; and that, having disposed and marshalled us by a
divine tactick, not according to our will, but according to
his, he has, in and by that disposition, virtually subjected
us to act the part which belongs to the place assigned us."^
Paine was a religious believer in eternal principles ; Burke
held that " political problems do not primarily concern truth
or falsehood. They relate to good or evil. What in the
result is likely to produce evil is politically false, that which
is productive of good politically is true." Assuming thus
the visionary's right to decide before the result what was
" likely to produce evil," Burke vigorously sought to kindle
war against the French Republic which might have devel
oped itself peacefully, while Paine was striving for an inter
national Congress in Europe in the interest of peace. Paine
had faith in the people, and believed that, if allowed to
choose representatives, they would select their best and
wisest men ; and that while reforming government the peo
ple would remain orderly, as they had generally remained
in America during the transition from British rule to self-
government. Burke maintained that if the existing political
order were broken up there would be no longer a people,
but " a number of vague, loose individuals, and nothing
more." " Alas ! " he exclaims, " they little know how many 1
a weary step is to be taken before they can form themselves
into a mass, which has a true personality." For the sake of
peace Paine wished the revolution to be peaceful as the
advance of summer ; he used every endeavor to reconcile
English radicals to some modus vivendi with the existing
order, as he was willing to retain Louis XVI. as head of the

262 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
executive in France : Burke resisted every tendency of Eng
lish statesmanship to reform at home, or to negotiate with
the French Republic, and was mainly responsible for the
King's death and the war that followed between England
and France in February, 1793. Burke became a royal favor
ite, Paine was outlawed by a prosecution originally proposed
by Burke. While Paine was demanding religious liberty,
Burke was opposing the removal of penal statutes from
Unitarians, on the ground that but for those statutes Paine
might some day set up a church in England. When Burke
was retiring on a large royal pension, Paine was in prison,
through the devices of Burke's confederate, the American
Minister in Paris. So the two men, as Burke said, " hunted
in pairs."
So far as Burke attempts to affirm any principle he is
fairly quoted in Paine's work, and nowhere misrepresented.
- As for Paine's own ideas, the reader should remember that
" Rights of Man " was the earliest complete statement of re
publican principles. They were pronounced to be the funda
mental principles of the American Republic by Jefferson,
Madison, and Jackson, — the three Presidents who above all
others represented the republican idea which Paine first
allied with American Independence. Those who suppose
that Paine did but reproduce the principles of Rousseau
and Locke will find by careful study of his well-weighed
language that such is not the case. Paine's political princi-
. pies were evolved out of his early Quakerism. He was po
tential in George Fox. The belief that every human soul
was the child of God, and capable of direct inspiration from
the Father of all, without mediator or priestly intervention,
or sacramental instrumentality, was fatal to all privilege and
rank. The universal Fatherhood implied universal Brother
hood, or human equality. But the fate of the Quakers
proved the necessity of protecting the individual spirit from
oppression by the majority as well as by privileged classes.
For this purpose Paine insisted on surrounding the indi
vidual right with the security of the Declaration of Rights,
not to be invaded by any government ; and would reduce

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 263
government to an association limited in its operations to the
defence of those rights which the individual is unable, alone,
to maintain.
From the preceding chapter it will be seen that Part Sec
ond of " Rights of Man " was begun by Paine in the spring
of 1791. At the close of that year, or early in 1792, he took
up his abode with his friend Thomas " Clio " Rickman, at No.
7 Upper Marylebone Street. Rickman was a radical pub
lisher ; the house remains still a book-binding establishment,
and seems little changed since Paine therein revised the
proofs of Part Second on a table which Rickman marked
with a plate, and which is now in possession of Mr. Edward
Truelove. As the plate states, Paine wrote on the same
table other works which appeared in England in 1792.
In 1795 D. I. Eaton published an edition of "Rights of
Man," with a preface purporting to have been written by
Paine while in Luxembourg prison. It is manifestly spu
rious. The genuine English and French prefaces are given.

RIGHTS OF MAN
BEING AN ANSWER TO MR. BURKE'S ATTACK ON THE FRENCH
REVOLUTION

THOMAS PAINE
SECRETARY FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS TO CONGRESS IN THE
AMERICAN WAR, AND
AUTHOR OF THE WORKS ENTITLED " COMMON SENSE " AND " A LETTER TO THE ABBE RAYNAL "

GEORGE WASHINGTON,
president of the united states of america.
Sir —
I present you a small treatise in defence of those principles
of freedom which your exemplary virtue hath so eminently
contributed to establish. That the Rights of Man may be
come as universal as your benevolence can wish, and that
you may enjoy the happiness of seeing the New World
regenerate the Old, is the prayer of
Sir,
Your much obliged, and
Obedient humble Servant, Thomas Paine.

PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
FROM the part Mr. Burke took in the American Revolu
tion, it was natural that I should consider him a friend to
mankind ; and as our acquaintance commenced on that
ground, it would have been more agreeable to me to have
had cause to continue in that opinion than to change it.
At the time Mr. Burke made his violent speech last winter
in the English Parliament against the French Revolution
and the National Assembly, I was in Paris, and had written
to him but a short time before to inform him how prosper
ously matters were going on.1 Soon after this I saw his ad
vertisement of the Pamphlet he intended to publish : As the
attack was to be made in a language but little studied, and
less understood in France, and as everything suffers by trans
lation, I promised some of the friends of the Revolution in
that country that whenever Mr. Burke's Pamphlet came
forth, I would answer it. This appeared to me the more
1 My efforts ( :> discover this letter have failed. The following h from Croly's
" Life of Burke " . " Among his [Paine's] earliest missives was a letter [from
Paris] t_- Burke, whom he eagerly urged ti > introduce Revolution into England,
"by its established name of " Reform.' Burke threw back the temptation, or the
insult, at once. ' Do you realty imagine, Mr. Paine,' was his reply, ' that the
constitution r.i this kingdom requires such innovations, or could exist with
them, or that any reflecting man would seriously engage in them? You are
aware that I have, all my life, opposed such schemes of reform, because I know
them not to be Reform.' Paine, however, continued his ill-received correspond*
ence; and whether from the delight of molesting Burke, or the expectation of
making him a convert to a side which had the grand charm for the conviction of
his own profligate heart, plunder ; he sent him narratives of the rapidly recur
ring triumphs of democracy. In one of those he stated that the Reformers had
already determined on the total overthrow of the [French] monarchy, etc."
This letter is said by the reverend biographer to have been written "exactly
three days before the storming of the Bastille." — Editor.
269

270 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
necessary to be done, when I saw the flagrant misrepresenta
tions which Mr. Burke's Pamphlet contains ; and that while
it is an outrageous abuse on the French Revolution, and
the principles of Liberty, it is an imposition on the rest of
the world.
I am the more astonished and disappointed at this conduct
in Mr. Burke, as (from the circumstances I am going to
mention) I had formed other expectations.
I had seen enough of the miseries of war, to wish it might
never more have existence in the world, and that some other
mode might be found out to settle the differences that
should occasionally arise in the neighbourhood of nations.
This certainly might be done if Courts were disposed to set
honestly about it, or if countries were enlightened enough
not to be made the dupes of Courts. The people of America
had been bred up in the same prejudices against France,
which at that time characterised the people of England ;
but experience and an acquaintance with the French Nation
have most effectually shown to the Americans the falsehood
of those prejudices ; and I do not believe that a more cordial
and confidential intercourse exists between any two coun
tries than between America and France.
When I came to France, in the spring of 1787, the Arch
bishop of Thoulouse was then Minister, and at that time
highly esteemed. I became much acquainted with the pri
vate Secretary of that Minister, a man of an enlarged benev
olent heart ; and found, that his sentiments and my own
perfectly agreed with respect to the madness of war, and the
wretched impolicy of two nations, like England and France,
continually worrying each other, to no other end than that
of a mutual increase of burdens and taxes. That I might
be assured I had not misunderstood him, nor he me, I put
the substance of our opinions into writing and sent it to
him ; subjoining a request, that if I should see among the
people of England, any disposition to cultivate a better
understanding between the two nations than had hitherto
prevailed, how far I might be authorised to say that the
same disposition prevailed on the part of France ? He an-

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 2"] \

swered me by letter in the most unreserved manner, and
that not for himself only, but for the Minister, with whose
knowledge the letter was declared to be written.
I put this letter into the hands of Mr. Burke almost three
years ago, and left it with him, where it still remains ;
hoping, and at the same time naturally expecting, from the
opinion I had conceived of him, that he would find some
opportunity of making good use of it, for the purpose of re
moving those errors and prejudices which two neighbouring
nations, from the want of knowing each other, had enter
tained, to the injury of both.
When the French Revolution broke out, it certainly af
forded to Mr. Burke an opportunity of doing some good,
had he been disposed to it ; instead of which, no sooner did
he see the old prejudices wearing away, than he immediately
began sowing the seeds of a new inveteracy, as if he were
afraid that England and France would cease to be enemies.
That there are men in all countries who get their living by-
war, and by keeping up the quarrels of Nations, is as shock
ing as it is true ; but when those who are concerned in the
government of a country, make it their study to sow discord
and cultivate prejudices between Nations, it becomes the
more unpardonable.
With respect to a paragraph in this work alluding to Mr.
Burke's having a pension, the report has been some time in
circulation, at least two months ; and as a person is often
the last to hear what concerns him the most to know, I
have mentioned it, that Mr. Burke may have an opportunity
of contradicting the rumour, if he thinks proper.
THOMAS PAINE.

PAINE'S PREFACE TO THE FRENCH EDITION.'
The astonishment which the French Revolution has
caused throughout Europe should be considered from two
different points of view : first as it affects foreign peoples,
secondly as it affects their governments.
The cause of the French people is that of all Europe, or
rather of the whole world ; but the governments of all those
countries are by no means favorable to it. It is important
that we should never lose sight of this distinction. We
must not confuse the peoples with their governments;
especially not the English people with its government.
The government of England is no friend to the revolution
of France. Of this we have sufficient proofs in the thanks
given by that weak and witless person, the Elector of Han
over, sometimes called the King of England, to Mr. Burke
for the insults heaped on it in his book, and in the malevolent
comments of the English Minister, Mr. Pitt, in his speeches
in Parliament.
In spite of the professions of sincerest friendship found in
the official correspondence of the English government with
that of France, its conduct gives the lie to all its declara
tions, and shows us clearly that it is not a court to be
trusted, but an insane court, plunging in all the quarrels
and intrigues of Europe, in quest of a war to satisfy its folly
and countenance its extravagance.
The English nation, on the contrary, is very favorably
disposed towards the French Revolution, and to the progress
1 Part I., translated by F. Soules, was published in Paris in May, 1791.
This Preface has not appeared in any American edition, but ~ translation was
given in Carlile's edition, 1819. The present translation is from the original
French. F. Lanthenas translated Parts I. and II. in 1792. — Editor.
272

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 273
of liberty in the whole world ; and this feeling will become
more general in England as the intrigues and artifices of its
government are better known, and the principles of the rev
olution better understood. The French should know that t
most English newspapers are directly in the pay of govern
ment, or, if indirectly connected with it, always under its
orders ; and that those papers constantly distort and attack
the revolution in France in order to deceive the nation.
But, as it is impossible long to prevent the prevalence of
truth, the daily falsehoods of those papers no longer have
the desired effect.
To be convinced that the voice of truth has been stifled
in England, the world needs only to be told that the gov.
ernment regards and prosecutes as a libel that which it
should protect.* This outrage on morality is called law,
and judges are found wicked enough to inflict penalties on
truth. The English government presents, just now, a curious
phenomenon. Seeing that the French and English nations
are getting rid of the prejudices and false notions formerly
entertained against each other, and which have cost them
so much money, that government seems to be placarding its 1
need of a foe ; for unless it finds one somewhere, no pretext
exists for the enormous revenue and taxation now deemed
necessary. Therefore it seeks in Russia the enemy it has lost in
France, and appears to say to the universe, or to say to it
self : " If nobody will be so kind as to become my foe, I
shall need no more fleets nor armies, and shall be forced to
reduce my taxes. The American war enabled me to double
the taxes ; the Dutch business to add more ; the Nootka
humbug gave me a pretext for raising three millions sterling
more ; but unless I can make an enemy of Russia the harvest
from wars will end. I was the first to incite Turk against
Russian, and now I hope to reap a fresh crop of taxes."
If the miseries of war, and the flood of evils it spreads
*The main and uniform maxim of the judges is, the greater the truth tho
greater the libel.— Author.

274 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
over a country, did not check all inclination to mirth, and
turn laughter into grief, the frantic conduct of the govern
ment of England would only excite ridicule. But it is im
possible to banish from one's mind the images of suffering
which the contemplation of such vicious policy presents.
To reason with governments, as they have existed for ages,
is to argue with brutes. It is only from the nations them
selves that reforms can be expected. There ought not now
to exist any doubt that the peoples of France, England, and
America, enlightened and enlightening each other, shall
henceforth be able, not merely to give the world an example
of good government, but by their united influence enforce
its practice.

RIGHTS OF MAN.
AMONG the incivilities by which nations or individuals
provoke and irritate each other, Mr. Burke's pamphlet on
the French Revolution is an extraordinary instance. Neither
the People of France, nor the National Assembly, were
troubling themselves about the affairs of England, or the
English Parliament ; and that Mr. Burke should commence
an unprovoked attack upon them, both in Parliament and
in public, is a conduct 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
English language, with which Mr. Burke has not loaded the
French Nation and the National Assembly. Everything
which rancour, prejudice, ignorance or knowledge could sug
gest, is poured forth in the copious fury of near four hun
dred pages. In the strain and on the plan Mr. Burke was
writing, he might have written on to as many thousands.
When the tongue or the pen is let loose in a phrenzy of
passion, it is the man, and not the subject, that becomes
exhausted. Hitherto Mr. Burke has been mistaken and disappointed
in the opinions he had formed of the affairs of France ; but
such is the ingenuity of his hope, or the malignancy of his
despair, that it furnishes him with new pretences to go on.
There was a time when it was impossible to make Mr. Burke
believe there would be any Revolution in France. His
opinion then was, that the French had neither spirit to
undertake it nor fortitude to support it ; and now that there
is one, he seeks an escape by condemning it.
Not sufficiently content with abusing the National As
sembly, a great part of his work is taken up with abusing
275

276 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
Dr. Price (one of the best-hearted men that lives) ' and the two
societies in England known by the name of the Revolution
Society and the Society for Constitutional Information.
Dr. Price had preached a sermon on the 4th of November,
1789, being the anniversary of what is called in England the
Revolution, which took place 1688. Mr. Burke, speaking of
this sermon, says : " The political Divine proceeds dogmati
cally to assert, that by the principles of the Revolution, the
people of England have acquired three fundamental rights.
1. To choose our own governors.
2. To cashier them for misconduct.
3. To frame a government for ourselves."
Dr. Price does not say that the right to do these things
exists in this or in that person, or in this or in that descrip
tion of persons, but that it exists in the whole ; that it is a
right resident in the nation. Mr. Burke, on the contrary,
denies that such a right exists in the nation, either in whole
or in part, or that it exists anywhere ; and, what is still more
strange and marvellous, he says : " that the people of Eng
land utterly disclaim such a right, and that they will resist
the practical assertion of it with their lives and fortunes."
That men should take up arms and spend their lives and
fortunes, not to maintain their rights, but to maintain they
have not rights, is an entirely new species of discovery, and
suited to the paradoxical genius 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 now 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 Par
liament about a 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
1 Richard Price, D.D., F.R.S., died April 19, 1791.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 277
humbly and faithfully submit themselves, their heirs and
posterities, for ever." He quotes a clause of another Act
of Parliament made in the same reign, the terms of which
he says, " bind us "(meaning the people of their day), "our
heirs and our posterity, to them, their heirs and posterity, to
the end of time."
Mr. Burke conceives his point sufficiently established by
producing those clauses, which he enforces by saying that
they exclude the right of the nation for ever. And not yet
content with making such declarations, repeated over and
over again, he farther says, " that if the people of England
possessed such a right before the Revolution " ( which he
acknowledges to have been the case, not only in England,
but throughout Europe, 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 posterity, for ever."
As Mr. Burke occasionally applies the poison drawn from
his horrid principles, not only to the English nation, but to
the French Revolution and the National Assembly, and
charges that august, illuminated and illuminating body of
men with the epithet of usurpers, I shall, sans cire"monie,
/place another system of principles in opposition to his.
J The English Parliament of 1688 did a certain thing, which,
for themselves and their constituents, they had a right to
do, and which it 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, there
fore, divides itself into two parts ; the right which they
possessed by 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, there never will, and there never can,
exist a Parliament, or any description of men, or any genera
tion of men, in any country, possessed of the right or the
power of binding and controuling posterity to the " end of
time" or of commanding for ever how the world shall be

278 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
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 themselves
null and void. Every age and generation must be as free
to act for itself in all cases as the age and generations which
preceded it. The vanity and presumption of governing
beyond the grave is the most ridiculous and insolent of all
tyrainrier."~Man has no property in man ; neither has any
generation a property in the generations which are to follow.
_The__Parliament 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 what
ever, than the parliament or the people of the present day
have to dispose of, bind or control those who are to live a
hundred or a thousand years hence. Every generation is, |
and must be, competent to all the purposes which its oc- 1
casions require. It is the living, and not the dead, that are
to be accommodated. When man ceases to be, his power and
his wants cease with him ; and having no longer any partici
pation in the concerns of this world, he has no longer any
authority in directing who shall be its governors, or how its
government shall be organised, or how administered.
I am not contending for nor against any form of govern
ment, nor for nor against any party, here or elsewhere.
That which a whole nation chooses to do it has a right to do.
Mr.^Burke says, No. Where, then, does the right exist ?
I am contending for the rights of the living, and against their
being willed away and controuled and contracted for by the
manuscript assumed authority of the dead, and Mr. Burke
is contending for the authority of the dead over the rights
and freedom of the living. There was a time when kings
disposed of their crowns by will upon their death-beds, and
consigned the people, like beasts of the field, to what
ever successor they appointed. This is now so exploded as
scarcely to be remembered, and so monstrous as hardly to
be believed. But the Parliamentary clauses upon which Mr.
Burke builds his political church are of the same nature.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 279
The laws of every country must be analogous to some
common principle. In England no parent or master, nor
all the authority of Parliament, omnipotent as it has called
itself, can bind or control the personal freedom even of an
individual beyond the age of twenty-one years. On what
ground of right, then, could the Parliament of 1688, or any
other Parliament, bind all posterity for ever ?
Those who have quitted the world, and those who have
not yet arrived at 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 of two nonentities,
the one out of existence and the other not in, and who never
can meet in this world, the one should controul 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
authorised, or who could authorise, the Parliament of 1688
to control and take away the freedom of posterity (who
were not in existence to give or to withhold their consent),
and limit and confine their right of acting in certain cases
for ever ?
A greater absurdity cannot present itself to the under
standing of man than what Mr. Burke offers to his readers.
He tells them, and he tells the world to come, that a
certain body of men who existed a hundred years ago
made a law, and that there does not now exist in the nation,
nor ever will, nor ever can, a power to alter it. Under how
many subtilties or absurdities has the divine right to govern
been imposed on the credulity of mankind? Mr. Burke
has discovered a new one, and he has shortened his journey
to Rome by appealing to the power of this infallible Parlia
ment of former days, and he produces what it has done as of
divine authority, for that power must certainly be more
than human which no human power to the end of time can
alter. But Mr. Burke has done some service — not to his cause,
but to his country — by bringing those clauses into public

280 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
view. They serve to demonstrate how necessary it is at all
times to watch against the attempted encroachment of
power, and to prevent its running to excess. It is some
what extraordinary that the offence for which James II.
was expelled, that of setting up power by assumption, should
be re-acted, under another shape and form, by the Parlia
ment that expelled him. It shews that the Rights of Man
were but imperfectly understood at the Revolution, for
certain it is that the right which that Parliament set up by
assumption (for by delegation it had not, and could not
have it, because none could give it) over the persons and
freedom of posterity for ever was of the same tyrannical
unfounded kind which James attempted to set up over the
Parliament 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 unborn ; and as the one has no better authority to
stand upon than the other, both of them must be equally
null and void, and of no effect.
From what, or from whence, does Mr. Burke prove the
right of any human power to bind posterity for ever ? He
has produced his clauses, but he must produce also his
proofs that such a right existed, and shew how it existed.
If it ever existed it must now exist, for whatever appertains
to the nature of man cannot 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
for ever. He must, therefore, prove that his Adam pos
sessed such a power, or such a right.
The weaker any cord is, the less will it bear to be
stretched, and the worse is the policy to stretch it, unless
it is intended to break it. Had anyone proposed the over
throw of Mr. Burke's positions, he would have proceeded as
Mr. Burke has done. He would have magnified the author
ities, on purpose to have called the right of them into
question ; and the instant the question of right was started,
the authorities must have been given up.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 28 1
It requires but a very small glance of thought to perceive
that altho' laws made in one generation often continue in
force through succeeding generations, yet they continue to
derive their force from the consent of the living. A law
not repealed continues in force, not because it cannot be
repealed, but because it is not repealed ; and the non-repeal
ing passes for consent.
But Mr. Burke's clauses have not even this qualification
in their favor. They become null, by attempting to become
immortal. The nature of them precludes consent. They
destroy the right which they might have, by grounding it
on a right which they cannot have. Immortal power is not
a human right, and therefore cannot be a right of Parlia
ment. The Parliament of 1688 might as well have passed
an act to have authorised themselves to live for ever, as to
make their authority live for ever. All, therefore, that can
be said of those clauses is that they are a formality of words,
of as much import as if those who used them had addressed
a congratulation to themselves, and in the oriental style of
antiquity had said : O Parliament, live for ever !
The circumstances of the world are continually changing7
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 in it. That which may be thought right
and found convenient in one age may be thought wrong
and found inconvenient 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
employed upon these clauses, it will consequently follow
that if the clauses themselves, so far as they set up an
assumed usurped dominion over posterity for ever, are un
authoritative, and in their nature null and void; that all
his voluminous inferences, and declamation drawn there
from, or founded thereon, are null and void also ; and on
this ground I rest the matter.
We now come more particularly to the affairs of France.
Mr. Burke's book has the appearance of being written as in
struction to the French nation ; but if I may permit myself

282 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
the use of an extravagant metaphor, suited to the extrava
gance of the case, it is darkness attempting to illuminate
light. While I am writing this there are accidentally before me
some proposals for a declaration of rights by the Marquis
de la Fayette (I ask his pardon for using his former address,
and do it only for distinction's sake) to the National Assem
bly, on the nth of July, 1789, three days before the taking
of the Bastille, and I cannot but remark with astonishment
how opposite the sources are from which that gentleman
and Mr. Burke draw their principles. Instead of referring
to musty records and mouldy parchments to prove that the
rights of the living are lost, " renounced and abdicated for
ever," by those who are now no more, as Mr. Burke has
done, M. de la Fayette applies to the living world, and
emphatically says : " Call to mind the sentiments which
nature has engraved on the heart of every citizen, and which
take a new force when they are solemnly recognised 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 ineffectual, though gay with flowers, are
all his declamation and his arguments compared with these
clear, concise, and soul-animating 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 M. de la Fayette, I will take the
liberty of adding an anecdote respecting his farewel address
to the Congress of America in 1783, and which occurred
fresh to my mind, when I saw Mr. Burke's thundering
attack on the French Revolution. M. de la Fayette went
to America at the early period of the war, and continued
a volunteer in her service to the end. His conduct through
the whole of that enterprise is one of the most extraordi
nary 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

I79il RIGHTS OF MAN. 283
enjoying it, how few are there to be found who would
exchange such a scene for the woods and wildernesses 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 his final depart
ure, he presented himself to Congress, and contemplating
in his affectionate farewel the Revolution he had seen,
expressed himself in these words : " May this great monu
ment raised to liberty serve as a lesson to the oppressor,
and an example 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 aristocratical despot
at home, and dreaded the example of the American Revo
lution in France, as certain other persons now dread the
example of the French Revolution in England, and Mr.
Burke's tribute of fear (for in this light his book must be
considered) runs parallel with Count Vergennes' refusal.
But to return more particularly to his work.
" We have seen," says Mr. Burke, " the French rebel againstv
a mild and lawful monarch, with more fury, outrage, and
insult, than any people has been known to rise against the
most illegal usurper, or the most sanguinary tyrant." This
is one among a thousand other instances, in which Mr.
Burke shows that he is ignorant of the springs and principles
of the French Revolution.
It was not against Louis XVIth but against the .despotic
principles of the Government, that the nation revolted. These
principles had not their origin in him, but in the original
establishment, many centuries back : and they were become
too deeply rooted to be removed, and the Augean stables of I
parasites and^lunderersjboo abominably filthy to be cleansed
by anything short of a complete and universal Revolution.
When it becomes necessary to do anything, the whole heart
and soul should go into the measure, or not attempt it.
That crisis was then arrived, and there remained no choice
but to act with determined vigor, or not to act at all. The

284 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
king was known to be the friend of the nation, and this
circumstance was favorable to the enterprise. Perhaps no
man bred up in the style of an absolute king, ever possessed
a heart so little disposed to the exercise of that species of
power as the present King of France. But the principles
of the Government itself still remained the same. The Mon
arch and the 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. Mr. Burke does not attend to the distinction between
men and principles , and, therefore, he does not see that a
revolt may take place against the despotism of the latter,
while there lies no charge of despotism against the former.
The natural moderation of Louis XVIth contributed
nothing to alter the hereditary despotism of the monarchy.
All the tyrannies of former reigns, acted under that heredi
tary despotism, were still liable to be revived in the hands
of a successor. It was not the respite of a reign that
would satisfy France, enlightened as she was then become.
A casual discontinuance of the practice, ol despotism, is not
a discontinuance of its principles : the former depends on
the virtue of the individual who is in immediate possession
of the power ; the latter, on the virtue and fortitude of the
nation. In the case of Charles Ist and James Und of
England, the revolt was against the personal despotism of
the men ; whereas in France, it was against the hereditary
despotism of the established Government. But men
who can consign over the rights of posterity for ever
on the authority 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
with a mightiness of reason they cannot keep pace with.
But there are many points of view in which this Revolu
tion may be considered. When despotism has established
itself for ages in a country, as in France, it is not in the per
son of the king only that it resides. It has the appearance

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 28$
of being so in show, and in nominal authority ; but it is not
so in practice and in fact. It has its standard everywhere.
Every office and department has its despotism, founded
upon custom and usage. Every place has its Bastille, and
every Bastille its despot. The original hereditary despotism
resident in the person of the king, divides and sub-divides
itself into a thousand shapes and forms, till at last the
whole of it is acted by deputation. This was the case in
France ; and against this species of despotism, proceeding
on through an endless labyrinth of office till the source of
it is scarcely perceptible, there is no mode of redress. It
strengthens itself by assuming the appearance of duty, and
tyrannises under the pretence of obeying.
When a man reflects 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.
There were, if I may so express it, a thousand despotisms
to be reformed in France, which had grown up under the
hereditary despotism of the monarchy, and became so
rooted as to be in a great measure independent of it. Be
tween the Monarchy, the Parliament, and the Church there
was a rivalship of despotism ; besides the feudal despotism
operating locally, and the ministerial despotism operating
everywhere. But Mr. Burke, by considering the king as
the only possible object of a revolt, speaks as if France was
a village, in which everything that passed must be known
to its commanding officer, and no oppression could be acted
but what he could immediately controul. Mr. Burke might
have been in the Bastille his whole life, as well under
Louis XVI as Louis XIV., and neither the one nor the
other have known that such a man as Burke existed. The
despotic principles of the government were the same in both
reigns, though the dispositions of the men were as remote as
tyranny and benevolence.
What Mr. Burke considers as a reproach to the French
Revolution (that of bringing it forward under a reign more
mild than the preceding ones) is one of its highest honors.

286 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
The Revolutions 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 contemplation of the Rights of Man, and distin
guishing from the beginning between persons and principles.
But Mr. Burke appears to have no idea of principles when
he is contemplating Governments. " Ten years ago," says
he, " I could have felicitated France on her having a Gov
ernment, without inquiring what the nature of that Govern
ment 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
all the Governments in the world, while the victims who
suffer under them, whether sold into slavery, or tortured
out of existence, are wholly 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 occasions
of the French Revolution. I now proceed to other con
siderations. I 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 distance before you ; but when you have got as far
as you can go, there is no point at all. Just thus it is with
Mr. Burke's three hundred and sixty-six pages. It is there
fore difficult to reply to him. But as the points 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 readers, they are very well calculated for theatrical rep
resentation, where facts are manufactured for the sake of
show, and accommodated to produce, through the weakness
of sympathy, a weeping effect. But Mr. Burke should rec
ollect that he is writing history, and not plays, and that

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 287
his readers will expect truth, and not the spouting rant of
high-toned exclamation.
When we see a man dramatically lamenting in a publication
intended to be believed that " The age of chivalry is gone !
that The glory of Europe is extinguished for ever ! that The
unbought grace of life (if anyone knows what it is), the \
cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and
heroic enterprise is gone ! " and all this because the Quixot
age of chivalry 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 wind mills, and his sorrows are that there are no
Quixots to attack them. But if the age of aristocracy, like
that of chivalry, should fall (and they had originally some
connection) Mr. Burke, the trumpeter of the Order, may
continue his parody to the end, and finish with exclaiming :
" Othello's occupation' s gone ! "
Notwithstanding Mr. Burke's horrid paintings, when the
French Revolution is compared with the Revolutions of
other countries, the astonishment will be that it is marked
with so few sacrifices ; but this astonishment will cease
when we reflect that principles, and not persons, were the J\/ \
meditated objects of cfesWmrtronr--' -Tfee-TrrfffcT of "the* "nation
was acted upon by a higher stimulus than what the consider
ation of persons could inspire, and sought a higher con
quest than could be produced by the downfal 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 moment, and were
not pursued with that long, cold-blooded unabated revenge
which pursued the unfortunate Scotch in the affair of
1745- Through the whole of Mr. Burke's book I do not ob
serve that the Bastille is mentioned more than once, and
that with a kind of implication as if he were sorry it was
pulled down, and wished it were built up again. " We have
rebuilt Newgate," says he, " and tenanted the mansion ;
and we have prisons almost as strong as the Bastille

288 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
for those who dare to libel the queens of France. " * As to
what a madman like the person called Lord G[eorge] G[or-
don] 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 that was wished for. But certain it is that
Mr. Burke, who does not call himself a madman (whatever
other people may do), has libelled in the most unprovoked
manner, and in the grossest style of the most vulgar abuse,
the whole representative authority of France, and yet Mr.
Burke takes his seat in the British House of Commons!
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 Bastille, are pulled
down. Not one glance of compassion, not one commiserating
reflexton that I can find throughout his book, has he be
stowed on those who lingered out the most wretched of lives,
a life without hope in the most miserable of prisons. It
is painful to behold a man employing his talents to corrupt
himself. Nature has been kinder to Mr. Burke than he is to
her. He is not affected by the reality of distress touching
his heart, but by the showy resemblance of it striking his
imagination. He pities the plumage, but forgets the dying
bird. Accustomed to kiss the aristocratical hand that hath
purloined him from himself, he degenerates into a composi
tion of art, and the genuine soul of nature forsakes him.
His hero or his heroine must be a tragedy-victim expiring
* Since writing the above, two other places occur in Mr. Burke's pamphlet
in which the name of the Bastille is mentioned, but in the same manner. In
the one he introduces it in a sort of obscure question, and asks : " Will any
ministers who now serve such a king, with but a decent appearance of respect,
cordially obey the orders of those whom but the other day, in his name, they
had committed to the Bastille ? " In the other the taking it is mentioned
as implying criminality in the French guards, who assisted in demolishing it.
" They have not, "says he, " forgot the taking the king's castles at Paris." This
is Mr. Burke, who pretends to write on constitutional freedom. — Author.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 289
in show, and not the real prisoner of misery, sliding into-
death in the silence of a dungeon.
As Mr. Burke has passed over the whole transaction of
the Bastille (and his silence is nothing in his favor), and has
entertained his readers with reflections on supposed facts
distorted into real falsehoods, I will give, since he has not,
some account of the circumstances which preceded that
transaction. They will serve to shew that less mischief
could scarcely have accompanied such an event when con
sidered with the treacherous and hostile aggravations 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
taking the Bastille, and for two days before and after, nor
perceive the possibility of its quieting so soon. At a dis
tance this transaction has appeared only as an act of heroism
standing on itself, and the close political connection it had
with the Revolution is lost in the brilliancy of the achieve
ment. But we are to consider it as the strength of the
parties brought man to man, and contending for the issue.
The Bastille was to be either the prize or the prison of the
assailants. The downfall of it included the idea of the
downfall of despotism, and this compounded image was
become as figuratively united as Bunyan's Doubting Castle
and Giant Despair.1
The National Assembly, before and at the time of taking
the Bastille, was sitting at Versailles, twelve miles distant
from Paris. About a week before the rising of the Parisians,
and their taking the Bastille, it was discovered that a plot
was forming, at the head of which was the Count d'Artois?
the king's youngest brother, for demolishing the National
Assembly, seizing its members, and thereby crushing, by a
coup de main, all hopes and prospects of forming a free govern
ment. For the sake of humanity, as well as 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 they call a revolt.
1 In the French edition this allusion is explained in a footnote. — Editor.

29O THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
This plan must have been some time in contemplation ;
because, in order to carry it into execution, it was necessary
to collect a large military force round Paris, and cut off the
communication between that city and the National Assem
bly at Versailles. The troops destined for this service were
chiefly the foreign troops in the pay of France, and who,
for this particular 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 judged time to put the plan into
execution. The ministry who 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 whom was Count de Broglio, and to his
share was given the command of those troops. The char
acter 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
capable 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 act in. They were the devoted
victims, and they knew it. They had the hearts and wishes
of their country 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 had been done the year before to the Parliament
of Paris. Had the National Assembly deserted their trust,
or had they exhibited signs of weakness or fear, their
enemies had been encouraged and their country depressed.
When the situation they stood in, the cause they were
engaged in, and the crisis then ready to burst, which should
determine their personal and political fate and that of their
country, and probably of Europe, are 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 Vienne was at this time President of

J79l] RIGHTS OF MAN.

29I

the National 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 a Vice-
President, for the Presidency still resided in the Archbishop)
M. de la Fayette ; and this is the only instance of a Vice-
President being chosen. It was at the moment that this
storm was pending (July nth) that a declaration of rights
was brought forward by M. de la Fayette, and is the same
which is alluded to in p. [282.J It was hastily drawn up, and
makes only a part of the more extensive declaration of
rights agreed upon and adopted afterwards by the National
Assembly. The particular reason for bringing it forward at
this moment (M. de la Fayette has since informed me) was
that, if the National Assembly should fall in the threatened
destruction that then surrounded it, some trace of its prin
ciples might have the chance of surviving the wreck.
Everything now was drawing to a crisis. The event was
freedom or slavery. On one side, an army of nearly thirty
thousand men ; on the other, an unarmed body of citizens
— for the citizens of Paris, on whom the National Assembly
must then immediately depend, were as unarmed and as un
disciplined as the citizens of London are now. The French
guards had given strong symptoms of their being attached
to the national cause ; but their numbers were small, not a
tenth part of the force that Broglio commanded, and their
officers were in the interest of Broglio.
Matters being now ripe for execution, the new ministry
made their appearance in office. The reader will carry in
his mind that the Bastille was taken the 14th July; the
point of time I am now speaking of is the 12th. Immedi
ately on the news of the change of ministry reaching Paris,
in the afternoon, all the playhouses and places of entertain
ment, shops and houses, were shut up. The change of
ministry was considered as the prelude of hostilities, and
the opinion was rightly founded.
The foreign troops began to advance towards the city.
The Prince de Lambesc, who commanded a body of German

292 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
cavalry, approached by the Place of Lewis XV., which
connects itself with some of the streets. In his march, he
insulted and struck an old man with a sword. The French
are remarkable for their respect to old age ; and the in
solence with which it appeared to be done, uniting with the
general fermentation they were in, produced a powerful
effect, and a cry of " To arms ! to arms ! " spread itself in a
moment over the city.
Arms they had none, nor scarcely anyone who knew the
use of them ; but desperate resolution, when every hope is
at stake, supplies, for a while, the want of arms. Near where
the Prince de Lambesc was drawn up, were large piles of
stones collected for building the new bridge, and with these
the people attacked the cavalry. A party of French guards
upon hearing the firing, rushed from their quarters and
joined the people ; and night coming on, the cavalry re
treated. The streets of Paris, being narrow, are favorable for de
fence, 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 procure : guns, swords, blacksmiths' hammers,
carpenters' axes, iron crows, pikes, halberts, pitchforks, spits,
clubs, etc., etc. The incredible numbers in which they
assembled the next morning, and the still more incredible
resolution they exhibited, embarrassed and astonished their
enemies. Little did the new ministry expect such a salute.
Accustomed to slavery themselves, they had no idea that
liberty was capable of such inspiration, or that a body of
unarmed citizens would dare to face the military force of
thirty thousand men. Every moment of this day was em
ployed in collecting arms, concerting plans, and arranging
themselves into the best order which such an instantaneous
movement could afford. Broglio continued lying round the
city, but made no further advances this day, and the suc
ceeding night passed with as much tranquility as such a
scene could possibly produce.
VOL. 3.— 19

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 293
But defence only was not the object of the citizens. They
had a cause at stake, on which depended 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 Bastille ;
and the e~clat of carrying such a fortress in the face of such
an army, could not fail to strike terror into the new ministry,
who had scarcely yet had time to meet. By some inter
cepted Correspondence this morning, it was discovered that
the Mayor of Paris, M. Deffleseslles, who appeared to be in
the interest of the citizens, was betraying them ; and from
this discovery, there remained no doubt that Broglio would
reinforce the Bastille the ensuing evening. It was therefore
necessary to attack it that day ; but before this could be
done, it was first necessary to procure a better supply of arms
than they were then possessed of.
There was, adjoining to the city a large magazine of arms
deposited at the Hospital of the Invalids, which the citizens
summoned to surrender ; and as the place was neither de
fensible, nor attempted much defence, they soon succeeded.
Thus supplied, they marched to attack the Bastille ; a vast
mixed multitude of all ages, and of all degrees, armed
with all sorts of weapons. Imagination would fail in describ
ing to itself the appearance of such a procession, and of the
anxiety of the events which a few hours or a few minutes
might produce. What plans the ministry were forming,
were as unknown to the people within the city, as what the
citizens were doing was unknown to the ministry ; and what
movements Broglio might make for the support or relief of
the place, were to the citizens equally as unknown. All
was mystery and hazard.
That the Bastille was attacked with an enthusiasm of
heroism, such only as the highest animation of liberty could
inspire, and carried in the space of a few hours, is an event
which the world is fully possessed of. I am not undertaking
the detail of the attack, but bringing into view the conspiracy
against the nation which provoked it, and which fell with

294 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
the Bastille. The prison to which the new ministry were
dooming the National Assembly, in addition to its being the
high altar and castle of despotism, became the proper object
to begin with. This enterprise broke up the new ministry, 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, but 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 case
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 ; they were plot
ting against others ; and those who fell, met, not unjustly,
the punishment they were preparing to execute. But will
Mr. Burke say, that if this plot, contrived with the subtilty
of an ambuscade, had succeeded, the successful party would
have restrained their wrath so soon ? Let the history of
all governments answer the question.
Whom has the National Assembly brought to the scaffold ?
None. They were themselves the devoted victims of
this plot, and they have not retaliated ; why, then, are they
charged with revenge they have not acted ? In the tremen
dous breaking forth of a whole people, in which all degrees,
tempers and characters are confounded, delivering them
selves, by a miracle of exertion, from the destruction med
itated against them, is it to be expected that nothing will
happen ? When men are sore with the sense of oppressions,
and menaced with the prospects of new ones, is the calmness
of philosophy or the palsy of insensibility to be looked for?
Mr. Burke exclaims against outrage ; yet the greatest is that
which himself has committed. His book is a volume of out
rage, not apologised for by the impulse of a moment, but
cherished through a space of ten months ; yet Mr. Burke
had no provocation — no life, no interest, at stake.
More of the citizens fell in this struggle than of their op
ponents : but four or five persons were seized by the populace,

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN.

295

and instantly put to death ; the Governor of the Bastille,
and the Mayor of Paris, who was detected in the act of be
traying them ; and afterwards Foulon, one of the new
ministry, and Berthier, his son-in-law, who had accepted the
office of intendant of Paris. Their heads were struck upon
spikes, and carried about the city ; and it is upon this mode
of punishment that Mr. Burke builds a great part of his
tragic scene. Let us therefore examine how men came by
the idea of punishing in this manner.
They learn it from the governments they live under ; and
retaliate the punishments they have been accustomed to
behold. The heads stuck upon spikes, which remained for
years upon Temple Bar, differed nothing in the horror of
the scene from those carried about upon spikes 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 suf
ferer 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 exe
cution of Damien, torn to pieces by horses ? The effect of
those cruel spectacles exhibited to the populace is to destroy
tenderness or excite revenge ; 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 intended to operate, and it is
on them that it operates to the worst effect. They have
sense enough to feel they are the objects aimed at ; and they
inflict in their turn the examples of terror they have been
instructed to practise.
There is in all European countries a large class of people

296 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [I791
of that description, which in England is called the " mob."
Of this class were those who committed the burnings and
devastations in London in 1780, and of this class were those
who carried the heads upon spikes in Paris. Foulon and
Berthier were taken up in the country, and sent to Paris, to
undergo their examination at the Hotel de Ville ; for the
National Assembly, immediately on the new ministry com
ing into office, passed a decree, which they communicated
to the King and Cabinet, that they (the National Assembly)
would hold the ministry, of which Foulon was one, respon
sible for the measures they were advising and pursuing ;
but the mob, incensed at the appearance of Foulon and
Berthier, tore them from their conductors before they were
carried to the Hotel de Ville, and executed them on the
spot. Why then does Mr. Burke charge outrages of this
kind on a whole people ? As well may he charge the riots
and outrages of 1780 on all the people of London, or those
in Ireland on all his countrymen.
But everything we see or hear offensive to our feelings
and derogatory to the human character should lead to other
reflections than those of reproach. Even the beings who
commit them have some claim to our consideration. How
then is it that such vast classes of mankind as are distin
guished by the appellation of the vulgar, or the ignorant mob,
are so numerous in all old countries ? The instant we ask
ourselves this question, reflection feels an answer. They
rise, as an unavoidable consequence, out of the ill construc
tion of all old governments in Europe, England included
with the rest. It is by distortedly exalting some men, that
others are distortedly debased, till the whole is out of na
ture. A vast mass of mankind are degradedly thrown into
the back-ground of the human picture, to bring forward,
with greater glare, the puppet-show of state and aristocracy.
In the commencement of a revolution, those men are rather
the followers of the camp than of the standard of liberty,
and have yet to be instructed how to reverence it.
I give to Mr. Burke all his theatrical exaggerations for
facts, and I then ask him if they do not establish the cer-

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 297
tainty of what I here lay down ? Admitting them to be
true, they show the necessity of the French Revolution, as
much as any one thing he could have asserted. These out
rages were not the effect of the principles of the Revolu
tion, but of the degraded mind that existed before the
Revolution, and which the Revolution is calculated to re
form. Place them then to their proper cause, and take the
reproach of them to your own side.
It is the honour of the National Assembly and the city
of Paris that, during such a tremendous scene of arms and
confusion, beyond the controul of all authority, they have
been able, by the influence of example and exhortation, to
restrain so much. Never were more pains taken to instruct
and enlighten mankind, and to make them see that their in
terest consisted in their virtue, and not in their revenge, than
have been displayed in the Revolution of France. I now
proceed to make some remarks on Mr. Burke's account of
the expedition to Versailles, October the 5th and 6th.
I can consider Mr. Burke's book in scarcely any other
light than a dramatic performance ; and he must, I think,
have considered it in the same light himself, by the poetical
liberties he has taken of omitting some facts, distorting
others, and making the whole machinery bend to produce
a stage effect. Of this kind is his account of the expedi
tion to Versailles. He begins this account by omitting the
only facts 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 from
those plots that all the mischiefs have arisen. It suits his
purpose to exhibit the consequences without their causes.
It is one of the arts of the drama to do so. If the crimes
of men were exhibited with their sufferings, stage effect
would sometimes be lost, and the audience would be in
clined to approve where it was intended they should com
miserate. After all the investigations that have been made into this

298 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
intricate affair (the expedition to Versailles), it still remains
enveloped in all that kind of mystery which ever accompa
nies events produced more from a concurrence of awkward
circumstances than from fixed design. While the charac
ters of men are forming, as is always the case in revolutions,
there is a reciprocal suspicion, and a disposition to misinter
pret each other ; and even parties directly opposite in prin
ciple will sometimes concur in pushing forward the same
movement with very different views, and with the hopes of
its producing very different consequences. A great deal of
this may be discovered in this embarrassed affair, and yet
the issue of the whole was what nobody had in view.
The only things certainly known are that considerable
uneasiness was at this time excited at Paris by the delay of
the King in not sanctioning and forwarding the decrees of
the National Assembly, particularly that of the Declaration
of the Rights of Man, and the decrees of the fourth of Au
gust, which contained the foundation principles on which
the constitution was to be erected. The kindest, and per
haps the fairest conjecture upon this matter is, that some of
the ministers intended to make remarks and observations
upon certain parts of them before they were finally sanc
tioned and sent to the provinces ; but be this as it may, the
enemies of the Revolution derived hope from the delay, and
the friends of the Revolution uneasiness.
During this state of suspense, the Garde du Corps, which
was composed as such regiments generally are, of persons
much connected with the Court, gave an entertainment at
Versailles (October 1) to some foreign regiments then ar
rived ; and when the entertainment was at the height, on a
signal given, the Garde 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 indignity
of this kind amounted to defiance. It was like declaring
war ; and if men will give challenges they must expect con
sequences. But all this Mr. Burke has carefully kept out
of sight. He begins his account by saying : " History will
record that on the morning of the 6th October, 1789, the

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN.

299

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
stile of history, nor the intention of it. It leaves every
thing to be guessed at and mistaken. One would at least
think there had been a battle ; and a battle there probably
would have been had it not been for the moderating pru
dence of those whom Mr. Burke involves in his censures.
By his keeping the Garde du Corps out of sight Mr. Burke
has afforded himself the dramatic licence of putting the
King and Queen in their places, as if the object of the
expedition was against them. But to return to my ac
count —
This conduct of the Garde du Corps, as 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 Garde du Corps to an account. There
was certainly nothing of the cowardice of assassination in
marching in the face of the day to demand satisfaction, if
such a phrase may be used, of a body of armed men who
had voluntarily given defiance. 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. The hopes
of those opposed to the Revolution rested in making the
King of their party, and getting him from Versailles to
Metz, where they expected to collect a force and set up a
standard. We have, therefore, two different objects pre
senting themselves at the same time, and to be accom
plished by the same means : the one to chastise the Garde
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 Ho-

300 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
tel de Ville or town-hall at Paris, and set off for Versailles.
Their professed object was the Garde du Corps ; but pru
dent men readily recollect that mischief is more easily be
gun than ended ; and this impressed itself with the more
force from the suspicions already stated, and the irregu
larity of such a cavalcade. As soon, therefore, as a sufficient
force could be collected, M. de la Fayette, by orders from
the civil authority of Paris, set off after them at the head
of twenty thousand of the Paris militia. The Revolution
could derive no benefit from confusion, and its opposers
might. By an amiable and spirited manner of address he
had hitherto been fortunate in calming disquietudes, and in
this he was extraordinarily successful ; to frustrate, there
fore, the hopes of those who might seek to improve this
scene into a sort of justifiable necessity for the King's quit
ting Versailles and withdrawing to Metz, and to prevent at
the same time the consequences that might ensue between
the Garde du Corps and this phalanx of men and women,
he forwarded expresses to the King, that he was on his
march to Versailles, by the orders of the civil authority of
Paris, for the purpose of peace and protection, expressing
at the same time the necessity of restraining the Garde du
Corps from firing upon the people.*
He arrived at Versailles between ten and eleven at night.
The Garde du Corps was drawn up, and the people had ar
rived some time before, but everything had remained sus
pended. Wisdom and policy now consisted in changing a
scene of danger into a happy event. M. de la Fayette be
came the mediator between the enraged parties ; and the
King, to remove the uneasiness which had arisen from the
delay already stated, sent for the President of the National
Assembly, and signed the Declaration of the Rights of Man,
and such other parts of the constitution as were in readiness.
It was now about one in the morning. Everything ap
peared to be composed, and a general congratulation took
place. By the beat of a drum a proclamation was made that
* I am warranted in asserting this, as I had it personally from M. de la Fay
ette, with whom I lived in habits of friendship for fourteen years. — Author.

179*] RIGHTS OF MAN. 301
the 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 quarters in the churches ; and at
two o'clock the King and Queen retired.
In this state matters passed till the break of day, when
a fresh disturbance arose from the censurable conduct of
some of both parties, for such characters there will be in
all such scenes. One of the Garde du Corps appeared at
one of the windows of the palace, and the people who had
remained during the night in the streets accosted him with
reviling and provocative language. 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
Garde de Corps within the palace, and pursued them through
out the avenues of it, and to the apartments of the King.
On this tumult, not the Queen only, as Mr. Burke has rep
resented it, but every person in the palace, was awakened
and alarmed ; and M. de la Fayette had a second time to
interpose between the parties, the event of which was
that the Garde 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 restored, a general acclamation broke forth
of Le Roi a Paris — Le Roi h Paris — The King to Paris. It
was the shout of peace, and immediately accepted on the
part of the King. By this measure all future projects of
trapanning the King to Metz, and setting up the standard
opposition to the constitution, were prevented, and the
suspicions extinguished. The King and his family reached
Paris in the evening, and were congratulated on their arrival
by M. Bailly, the Mayor of Paris, in the name of the citi-

302 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i79r
zens. Mr. Burke, who throughout his book confounds
things, persons, and principles, as in his remarks on M.
Bailly's address, confounded time also. He censures M.
Bailly for calling it " un bonjour," a good day. Mr. Burke
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. Bailly
alludes, and to the arrival of the King at Paris. Not
less than three hundred thousand persons arranged them
selves in the procession from Versailles to Paris, and not
an act of molestation was committed during the whole
march. Mr. Burke on the authority of M. Lally Tollendal, a
deserter from the National Assembly, says, that on entering
Paris, the people shouted " Tous les e"veques a la lanterne."
All Bishops to be hanged at the lanthorn or lamp-posts.
It is surprising that nobody could hear this but Lally
Tollendal, and that nobody should believe it but Mr. Burke.
It has not the least connexion with any part of the transac
tion, and is totally foreign to every circumstance of it. The
Bishops had never been introduced before into any scene of
Mr. Burke's drama : why then are they, all at once, and
altogether, tout it coup, et tous ensemble, introduced now?
Mr. Burke brings forward his Bishops and his lanthorn-like
figures in a magic lanthorn, and raises his scenes by contrast
instead of connection. 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 reflexion, instead of a 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 wil
derness of rhapsodies, and a sort of descant upon govern-
* An account of the expedition to Versailles may be seen in No. 13 of the
Revolution de Paris containing the events from the 3rd to the loth of October,
1789. — Author.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 303
ments, in which he asserts whatever he pleases, on the
presumption of its being believed, without offering either
evidence or reasons for so doing.
Before anything can be reasoned upon to a conclusion, "
certain facts, principles, or data, to reason from, must be
established, admitted, or denied. Mr. Burke with his usual
outrage, abused the Declaration of the Rights of Man, pub
lished by the National Assembly of France, as the basis on
which the constitution of France is built. This he calls
" paltry and blurred sheets of paper about the rights of man."
Does Mr. Burke mean to deny that man has any rights ?
If he does, then he must mean that there are no such things
as rights anywhere, and that he has none himself ; for who
is there in the world but man ? But if Mr. Burke means
to admit that man has rights, the question then will be :
What are those rights, and how man came by them
originally ?
The error of those who reason by precedents drawn from
antiquity, respecting 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 the intermediate stages of an
hundred or a thousand years, and produce what was then
done, as a rule for the present day. This is no authority
at all. If we travel still farther into antiquity, we shall
find a direct contrary opinion and practice prevailing ; and if
antiquity is to be authority, a thousand such authorities may
be produced, successively contradicting each other; but if
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. What was he then ? Man. Man was his high
and only title, and a higher cannot be given him. But
of titles I shall speak hereafter.
We are now got at the origin of man, and at the origin of
his rights. As to the manner in which the world has been
governed from that day to this, it is no farther any concern
of ours than to make a proper use of the errors or the
improvements which the history of it presents. Those who
lived a hundred or a thousand years ago, were then

304 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
moderns, as we are now. They had their ancients, and
those ancients had others, and we also shall be ancients in
our turn. If the mere name of antiquity is to govern in the
affairs of life, the people who are to live an hundred or a
thousand years hence, may as well take us for a precedent,
as we make a precedent of those who lived an hundred or a
thousand years ago. The fact is, that portions of antiquity, by
proving everything, establish nothing. It is authority against
authority all the way, till we come to the divine origin of
the rights of man at the creation. Here our enquiries find a
resting-place, and our reason finds a home. If a dispute
about the rights of man had arisen at the distance of an
hundred years from the creation, it is to this source of
authority they must have referred, and it is to this same
source of authority that we must now refer.
Though I mean not to touch upon any sectarian principle
of religion, yet it may be worth observing, that the genealogy
of Christ is traced to Adam. Why then not trace the rights
of man to the creation of man ? I will answer the question.
Because there have been upstart governments, thrusting
themselves between, and presumptuously working to un-make
man. If any generation of men ever possessed the right of dic
tating the mode by which the world should be governed for
ever, it was the first generation that existed ; and if that
generation did it not, no succeeding generation can show any
authority for doing it, nor can set any up. The illumina
ting and divine principle of the equal rights of man (for it has
its origin from the Maker of man) relates, not only to the
living individuals, but to generations of men succeeding each
other. Every generation is equal in rights to generations
which preceded it, by the same rule that every individual
is born equal in rights with his contemporary.
Every history of the creation, and every traditionary
account, whether from the lettered or unlettered world,
however they may vary in their opinion or belief of certain
particulars, all agree in establishing one point, the unity of
man; by which I mean that men are all of one degree, and con-

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 305
sequently that all men are born equal, and with equal natural
right, in the same manner as if posterity had been continued
by creation instead of generation, the latter being the only
mode by which the former is carried forward ; and conse
quently every child born into the world must be considered as
deriving its existence from God. The world is as new to him
as it was to the first man that existed, and his natural right
in it is of the same kind.
The Mosaic account of the creation, whether taken as
divine authority or merely historical, is full to this point,
the unity or equality of man. The expression admits of no
controversy. " And God said, Let us make man in our own
image. In the image of God created he him ; male and
female created he them." The distinction of sexes is pointed
out, but no other distinction is even implied. If this be not
divine authority, it is at least historical authority, and shews
that the equality of man, so far from being a modern doctrine,
is the oldest upon record.
It is also to be observed that all the religions known in
the world are founded, so far as they relate to man, on the
unity of man, as being all of one degree. Whether in heaven
or in hell, or in whatever state man may be supposed to ex
ist hereafter, the good and the bad are the only distinctions.
Nay, even the laws of governments are obliged to slide into
this principle, by making degrees to consist in crimes and
not in persons.
It is one of the greatest of all truths, and of the highest
advantage to cultivate. By considering man in this light,
and by instructing him to consider himself in this light, it
places him in a close connection with all his duties, whether
to his Creator or to the creation, of which he is a part ; and
it is only when he forgets his origin, or, to use a more fash
ionable phrase, his birth and family, that he becomes dis
solute. It is not among the least of the evils of the present
existing governments in all parts of Europe that man,
considered as man, is thrown back to a vast distance from
his Maker, and the artificial chasm filled up with a succession
of barriers, or sort of turnpike gates, through which he has

306 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [179 1
to pass. I will quote Mr. Burke's catalogue of barriers that
he has set up between man and his Maker. Putting himself
in the character of a herald, he says : " We fear God — we
look with awe to kings — with affection to Parliaments —
with duty to magistrates— with reverence to priests, and
with respect to nobility." Mr. Burke has forgotten to put in
"chivalry." He has also forgotten to put in Peter.
The duty of man is not a wilderness of turnpike gates,
through which he is to pass by tickets from one to the other.
It is plain and simple, and consists but of two points. His
duty to God, which every man must feel ; and with respect
to his neighbor, to do as he would be done by. If those to
whom power is delegated do well, they will be respected : if
not, they will be despised ; and with regard to those to
whom no power is delegated, but who assume it, the
rational world can know nothing of them.
Hitherto we have spoken only ( and that but in part ) of
the natural rights of man. We have now to consider the
civil rights of man, and to show how the one originates from
the other. Man did not enter into society to become worse
than he was before, nor to have fewer rights than he had
before, but to have those rights better secured. His
natural rights are the foundation of all his civil rights. But
in order to pursue this distinction with more precision, it
will be necessary to mark the different qualities of natural and
civil rights.
A few words will explain this. Natural rights are those
which appertain to man in right of his existence. Of this
kind are all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind, and
also all those rights of acting as an individual for his own
comfort and happiness, which are not injurious to the natural
rights of others. Civil rights are those which appertain to
man in right of his being a member of society. Every civil
right has for its foundation some natural right pre-existing
in the individual, but to the enjoyment of which his individ
ual power is not, in all cases, sufficiently competent. Of this
kind are all those which relate to security and protection.
From this short review it will be easy to distinguish be-

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 307
tween that class of natural rights which man retains after
entering into society and those which he throws into the
common stock as a member of society.
The natural rights which he retains are all those in which
the power to execute is as perfect in the individual as the
l right itself. Among this class, as is before mentioned, are
all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind ; conse
quently religion is one of those rights. The natural rights
which are not retained, are all those in which, though the
right is perfect in the individual, the power to execute them
is defective. They answer not his purpose. A man, by
natural right, has a right to judge in his own cause ; and so
far as the right of the mind is concerned, he never surren
ders it. But what availeth it him to judge, if he has not
power to redress? He therefore deposits this right in the
common stock of society, and takes the arm of society, of
which he is a part, in preference and in addition to his own.
Society grants him nothing. Every man is a proprietor in
society, and draws on the capital as a matter of right.
From these premisses two or three certain conclusions
will follow :
First, That every civil right grows out of a natural right ;
or, in other words, is a natural right exchanged.
Secondly, That civil power properly considered as such is
made up of the aggregate of that class of the natural rights
of man, which becomes defective in the individual in point
of power, and answers not his purpose, but when collected
to a focus becomes competent to the purpose of every one.
Thirdly, That the power produced from the aggregate of
natural rights, imperfect in power in the individual, cannot
be applied to invade the natural rights which are retained
in the individual, and in which the power to execute is as
s perfect as the right itself.
We have now, in a few words, traced man from a natural
individual to a member of society, and shewn, or endeav
oured to shew, the quality of the natural rights retained,
and of those which are exchanged for civil rights. Let us
' now apply these principles to governments.

308 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
In casting our eyes over the world, it is extremely easy to
distinguish the governments which have arisen out of society,
or out of the social compact, from those which have not ;
but to place this in a clearer light than what a single glance
may afford, it will be proper to take a review of the several
sources from which governments have arisen and on which
they have been founded.
They may be all comprehended under three heads. First,
Superstition. Secondly, Power. Thirdly, the common in
terest of society and the common rights of man.
The first was a government of priestcraft, the second of
conquerors, and the third of reason.
When a set of artful men pretended, through the medium
of oracles, to hold intercourse with the Deity, as familiarly
as they now march up the back-stairs in European courts,
the world was completely under the government of super
stition. The oracles were consulted, and whatever they
were made to say became the law ; and this sort of govern
ment lasted as long as this sort of superstition lasted.
After these a race of conquerors arose, whose government,
like that of William the Conqueror, was founded in power,
and the sword assumed the name of a sceptre. Governments
thus established last as long as the power to support them
lasts ; but that they might avail themselves of every engine
in their favor, they united fraud to force, and set up an idol
which they called Divine Right, and which, in imitation of
the Pope, who affects to be spiritual and temporal, and in
contradiction to the Founder of the Christian religion,
twisted itself afterwards into an idol of another shape, called
Church and State. The key of St. Peter and the key of the
Treasury became quartered on one another, and the wonder
ing cheated multitude worshipped the invention.
When I contemplate the natural dignity of man, when I
feel (for Nature has not been kind enough to me to blunt
my feelings) for the honour and happiness of its character,
I become irritated at the attempt to govern mankind by
force and fraud, as if they were all knaves and fools, and can
scarcely avoid disgust at those who are thus imposed upon.
VOL. 2.— SO

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 309
We have now to review the governments which arise out
of society, in contradistinction to those which arose out of
superstition and conquest.
It has been thought a considerable advance towards estab
lishing the principles of Freedom to say that Government
is a compact between those who govern and those who are
governed ; but this cannot be true, because it is putting the
effect before the cause ; for as man must have existed before
governments existed, there necessarily was a time when
governments did not exist, and consequently there could
originally exist no governors to form such a compact with.
The fact therefore must be that the itgdividuals themselves,
each in his own personal and sovereign right, entered into
a compact with each other to produce a government-: "and
-this is -the-ernlyBioSfe in which governments have a right to
arise, and thtf only principle on which they have a right to
exist. To possess ourselves of a clear idea of what government/
is, or ought to be, we must trace it to its origin. In doing!,
this we shall easily discover that governments must have
arisen either out of the people or over the people. Mr.
Burke has made no distinction. He investigates nothing to
its source, and therefore he confounds everything ; but he
has signified his intention of undertaking, at some future
opportunity, a comparison between the constitution of
England and France. As he thus renders it a subject of
controversy by throwing the gauntlet, I take him upon his
own ground. It is in high challenges that high truths have
the right of appearing ; and I accept it with the more readi
ness because it affords me, at the same time, an opportunity
of pursuing the subject with respect to governments arising
out of society.
But it will be first necessary to define what is meant by a
Constitution. It is not sufficient that we adopt the word ;
we must fix also a standard signification to it.
> A constitution is not a thing in name only, but in fact.
It has not an ideal, but a real existence ; and wherever it
cannot be produced in a visible form, there is none. A

3IO THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
constitution is a thing antecedent to a government, and a
government is only the creature of a constitution. The
constitution of a country is not the act of its government,
but of the people constituting its government. It is the
body of elements, to which you can refer, and quote article
by article ; and which contains the principles on which the
government shall be established, the manner in which it
shall be organised, the powers it shall have, the mode of
elections, the duration of Parliaments, or by what other
name such bodies may be called ; the powers which the
executive part of the government shall have ; and in fine,
everything that relates to the complete organization of a
civil government, and the principles on which it shall act,
and by which it shall be bound. A constitution, therefore,
is to a government what the laws made afterwards by that
government are to a court of judicature. The court of
judicature does not make the laws, neither can it alter them;
it only acts in conformity to the laws made : and the
government is in like manner governed by the constitution.
Can, then, Mr. Burke produce the English Constitution?
If he cannot, we may fairly conclude that though it has
been so much talked about, no such thing as a constitution
exists, or ever did exist, and consequently that the people
have yet a constitution to form.
Mr. Burke will not, I presume, deny the position I have
already advanced — namely, that governments arise either
out of the people or over the people. The English Govern
ment is one of those which arose out of a conquest, and not
out of society, and consequently it arose over the people ;
and though it has been much modified from the opportunity
of circumstances since the time of William the Conqueror,
the country has never yet regenerated itself, and is there
fore without a constitution.
I readily perceive the reason why Mr. Burke declined
going into the comparison between the English and French
constitutions, because he could not but perceive, when he sat
down to the task, that no such a thing as a constitution ex
isted on his side the question. His book is certainly bulky

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 3 1 1
enough to have contained all he could say on this subject,
and it would have been the best manner in which people
could have judged of their separate merits. Why then has
he declined the only thing that was worth while to write
upon ? It was the strongest 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
not possess it or could not maintain it.
Mr. Burke said, in a speech last winter in Parliament,
"that when the National Assembly first met in three Orders
(the Tiers Etats, the Clergy, and the Noblesse), France had
then a good constitution." This shews, among numerous
other instances, that Mr. Burke does not understand what a
constitution is. The persons so met were not a constitution,
but a convention, to make a constitution.
The present National Assembly of France is, strictly
speaking, the personal social compact. The members of it
are the delegates of the nation in its original character;
future assemblies will be the delegates of the nation in its
organised character. The authority of the present Assembly
is different from what the authority of future Assemblies
will be. The authority of the present one is to form a con
stitution ; the authority of future assemblies will be to
legislate according to the principles and forms prescribed in
that constitution ; and if experience should hereafter shew
that alterations, amendments, or additions are necessary,
the constitution will point out the mode by which such
things shall be done, and not leave it to the discretionary
power of the future government.
A government on the principles on which constitutional
governments arising out of society are established, cannot
have the right of altering itself. If it had, it would be arbi
trary. It might make itself what it pleased ; and wherever
such a right is set up, it shows there is no constitution.
The act by which the English Parliament empowered itself
to sit seven years, shows there is no constitution in England.
It might, by the same self-authority, have sat any great
number of years, or for life. The bill which the present Mr.

312 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
Pitt brought into Parliament some years ago, to reform
, Parliament, was on the same erroneous principle. The
j right of reform is in the nation in its original character, and
I the constitutional method would be by a general convention
elected for the purpose. There is, moreover, a paradox in
the idea of vitiated bodies reforming themselves.
From these preliminaries I proceed to draw some compar
isons. I have already spoken of the declaration of rights ;
and as I mean to be as concise as possible, I shall proceed
to other parts of the French Constitution.
The constitution of France says, that every man who
pays a tax of sixty sous per annum (2s. 6d. English) is an
elector. What article will Mr. Burke place against this?
Can anything be more limited, and at the same time more
capricious, than the qualification of electors is in England ?
Limited — because not one man in an hundred (I speak
much within compass) is admitted to vote. Capricious —
because the lowest character that can be supposed to exist,
and who has not so much as the visible means of an honest
livelihood, is an elector in some places : while in other places,
the man who pays very large taxes, and has a known fair
character, and the farmer who rents to the amount of three
or four hundred pounds a year, with a property on that farm
to three or four times that amount, 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 some parts of it by what they
call charters to hold the other parts of it the better subjec
ted to their will. This is the reason why so many of those
charters abound in Cornwall ; the people were averse to the
Government established at the Conquest, and the towns
were garrisoned and bribed to enslave the country. All the
old charters are the badges of this conquest, and it is
from this source that the capriciousness of election arises.
The French Constitution says, that the number of repre
sentatives for any place shall be in a ratio to the number of

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 313
taxable inhabitants or electors. What article will Mr. Burke
place against this ? The county of York, which contains
nearly a million of souls, sends two county members ; and
so does the county of Rutland, which contains not an
hundredth part of that number. The town of Old Sarum,
which contains not three houses, sends two members ;
and the town of Manchester, which contains upward of
sixty thousand souls, is not admitted to send any. Is there
any principle in these things?1 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
comparison, and endeavored to lead his readers from the
point by a wild, unsystematical display of paradoxical
rhapsodies. The French Constitution says that the National Assembly
shall be elected every two years. What article will Mr.
Burke place against this? Why, that the nation has no
right at all in the case ; that the government is perfectly ar
bitrary with respect to this point ; and he can quote for his
authority the precedent of a former Parliament.
The French Constitution says there shall be no game laws,
that the farmer on whose lands wild game shall be found
(for it is by. the produce of his 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 property of those at whose y
expense it is not fed ; and with respect to monopolies, the .'
country is cut up into monopolies. Every chartered town
1 The English rotten borough system was quoted in the United States Consti
tutional Convention, 1787, as precedent for the disproportionate representation
embodied in the Senate. But the new Constitution in America had been little
studied in 1791 by Paine, and, fortunately for this argument, less by his oppo
nents. In a modern English edition Paine's text is invaded by the anachronism :
" It is admitted that all this is altered, but there is much to be done yet, before
we have a fair representation of the people." — Editor.

314 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
is an aristocratical monopoly in itself, and the qualification of
electors proceeds out of those chartered monopolies. Is
this freedom ? Is this what Mr. Burke means by a consti
tution? In these chartered monopolies, a man coming from another
part of the country is hunted from them as if he were a
foreign enemy. An Englishman is not free of his own '
country ; 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 monopolies arc other monopolies. In a city,
such for instance as Bath, which contains between twenty
and thirty thousand inhabitants, the right of electing repre
sentatives to Parliament is monopolised by about thirty-one
persons. And within these monopolies are still others. A
'man even of the same town, whose parents were not in cir
cumstances to give him an occupation, is debarred, in many
cases, from the natural right of acquiring one, be his genius
x or industry what it may.
Are these things examples to hold out to a country re
generating 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
those badges of ancient oppression, those traces of a con
quered nation. Had Mr. Burke possessed talents similar to
('the author of " On the Wealth of Nations," he would have
I comprehended all the parts which enter into, and, by assem
blage, form a constitution. He would have reasoned from
(minutiae to magnitude. It is not from his prejudices only,
Ibut from the disorderly cast of his genius, that he is unfitted
for the subject he writes upon. Even his genius is without
a constitution. It is a genius at random, and not a genius
constituted. But he must say something. He has there
fore 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.
Conquest and tyranny transplanted themselves with Wil
liam the Conqueror from Normandy into England, and the
country is yet disfigured with the marks. May, then, the

*79x] RIGHTS OF MAN. 315

example of all France contribute to regenerate the freedom
which a province of it destroyed !
The French Constitution says that to preserve the na
tional representation from being corrupt no member of the
National Assembly shall be an officer of the government, a
placeman or a pensioner. 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 Assem
bly has made the discovery, and it holds out the example to
the world. Had governments agreed to quarrel on purpose
to fleece their countries by taxes, they could not have suc
ceeded better than they have done.
Everything in the English government appears to me the
reverse of what it ought to be, and of what it is said to be.1
The Parliament, imperfectly and capriciously elected as it
is, is nevertheless supposed to hold the national purse in trust
for the nation ; but in the manner in which an English Par
liament is constructed it is like a man being both mortgagor
and mortgagee, and in the case of misapplication of trust it
is the criminal sitting in judgment upon himself. If those
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 pantomime of Hush. Neither the Ministerial party
nor the Opposition will 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."* They order these things better
in France.
1 In Jordan's addition, which superseded Johnson's (of which only a few
copies obtained circulation) this sentence begins, " Many things, etc." But
Burke, in his " Appeal," was careful to quote the original sentence. — Editor.
* It is a practice in some parts of the country, when two travellers have but
one horse, which, like the national purse, will not carry double, that the one
mounts and rides two or three miles ahead, and then ties the horse to a gate
and walks on. When the second traveller arrives he takes the horse, rides
on, and passes his companion a mile or two, and ties again, and so on — Ride
and tie. — Author.

316 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
The French Constitution says that the right of war and
peace is in the nation. Where else should it reside but in
those who are to pay the expense ?
In England this 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 re
sided in them, for any inanimate metaphor is no more than
a hat or a cap. We can all see the absurdity of worshipping
Aaron's molten calf, or Nebuchadnezzar's golden image ;
but why do men continue to practise themselves the absurd
ities they despise in others ?
It may with reason be said that in the manner the Eng
lish nation is represented it signifies not where the right
resides, whether in the Crown or in the Parliament. War
J is the common harvest of all those who participate in the
division and expenditure of public money, in all countries.
I It is the art of conquering at home ; the object of it is an
¦ increase of revenue ; and as revenue cannot be increased
| without taxes, a pretence must be made for expenditure.
/In reviewing the history of the English Government, its
wars and its taxes, a bystander, not blinded by prejudice nor
warped by interest, would declare that taxes were not raised
;to carry on wars, but that wars were raised to carry on taxes.
Mr. Burke, as a member of the House of Commons, is a
part of the English Government ; and though he professes
himself an enemy to war, he abuses the French Consti
tution, which seeks to explode it. He holds up the English
Government as a model, in all its parts, to France ; but he
should first know the remarks which the French make upon
it. They contend in favor of their own, that the portion
of liberty enjoyed in England is just enough to enslave a
country more productively than by despotism, and that as
the real object of all despotism is revenue, a government
so formed obtains more than it could do either by direct
despotism, or in a full state of freedom, and is, therefore on
the ground of interest, opposed to both. They account
also for the readiness which always appears in such govern
ments for engaging in wars by remarking on the different

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 317
motives which produced them. In despotic governments
wars are the effect of pride ; but in those governments in
which they become the means of taxation, they acquire
thereby a more permanent promptitude.
The French Constitution, therefore, to provide against
both these evils, has taken away the power of declaring war
from kings and ministers, and placed the right where the
expence must fall.
When the question of the right of war and peace was
agitating in the National Assembly, the people of England
appeared to be much interested in the event, and highly
to applaud the decision. As a principle it applies as much to
one country as another. William the Conqueror, as a con
queror, held this power of war and peace in himself, and his
descendants have ever since claimed it under him as a right.
Although Mr. Burke has asserted the right of the Parlia
ment at the Revolution to bind and controul the nation and
posterity for ever, he denies at the same time that the
Parliament or the nation had any right to alter what he calls
the succession of the crown in anything but in part, or by
a sort of modification. By his taking this ground he throws
the case back to the Norman Conquest, and by thus running
a line of succession springing from William the Conqueror
to the present day, he makes it necessary to enquire who
and what William the Conqueror was, and where he came
from, and into the origin, history and nature of what are
called prerogatives. Everything must have had a begin
ning, and the fog of time and antiquity should be penetrated
to discover it. Let, then, Mr. Burke bring forward his
William of Normandy, for it is to this origin that his argu
ment goes. It also unfortunately happens, in running this
line of succession, that another line parallel thereto presents
itself, which is that if the succession runs in the line of the con
quest, the nation runs in the line of being conquered, and
it ought to rescue itself from this reproach.
But it will perhaps be said that tho' the power of declaring
war descends in the heritage of the conquest, it is held in
check by the right of Parliament to withhold the supplies.

318 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
It will always happen when a thing is originally wrong that
amendments do not make it right, and it oftens happens
that they do as much mischief one way as good the other,
and such is the case here, for if the one rashly declares war
as a matter of right, and the other peremptorily withholds
the supplies as a matter of right, the remedy becomes as
bad, or worse, than the disease. The one forces the nation
to a combat, and the other ties its hands ; but the more
probable issue is that the contest will end in a collusion
between the parties, and be made a screen to both.
On this question of war, three things are to be considered.
First, the right of declaring it : secondly, the expense of
supporting it : thirdly, the mode of conducting it after it
is declared. The French constitution places the right
where the expense must fall, and this union can only be in
the nation. The mode of conducting it after it is declared,
it consigns to the executive department. Were this
the case in all countries, we should hear but little more
of wars.
Before I proceed to consider other parts of the French
Constitution, and by way of relieving the fatigue of
argument, I will introduce an anecdote which I had from
Dr. Franklin.
While the Doctor resided in France as Minister from Amer
ica, during the war, he had numerous proposals made to him
by projectors of every country and of every kind, who
wished to go to the land that floweth with milk and honey,
America ; and among the rest, there was one who offered
himself to be king. He introduced his proposal to the
Doctor by letter, which is now in the hands of M.
Beaumarchais, of Paris — stating, first, that as the Americans
had dismissed or sent away * their King, that they would
want another. Secondly, that himself was a Norman.
Thirdly, that he was of a more ancient family than the
Dukes of Normandy, and of a more honorable descent, his
line having never been bastardised. Fourthly, that there
was already a precedent in England of kings coming out of
* The word he used was renvoye, dismissed or sent away. — Author.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 319
Normandy, and on these grounds he rested his offer,
enjoining that the Doctor would forward it to America.
But as the Doctor neither did this, nor yet sent him an
answer, the projector wrote a second letter, in which he did
not, it is true, threaten to go over and conquer America,
but only with great dignity proposed that if his offer was
not accepted, an acknowledgment of about £30,000 might
be made to him for his generosity ! Now, as all argu
ments respecting succession must necessarily connect that
succession with some beginning, Mr. Burke's arguments
on this subject go to show that there is no English
origin of kings, and that they are descendants of the Norman
line in right of the Conquest. It may, therefore, be of
service to his doctrine to make this story known, and to
inform him, that in case Of that natural extinction to which
all mortality is subject, Kings may again be had from Nor
mandy, on more reasonable terms than William the Con
queror ; and consequently, that the good people of England,
at the revolution of 1688, might have done much better, had
such a generous Norman as this known their wants, and
they had known his. The chivalric character which Mr.
Burke so much admires,, is certainly much easier to make a
bargain with than a hard dealing Dutchman. But to return
to the matters of the constitution —
The French Constitution says, There shall be no titles;
and, of consequence, all that class of equivocal generation
which in some countries is called " aristocracy " and in
others " nobility," is done away, and the peer is exalted into
the Man.
Titles are but nick-names, and every nickname is a title.
The thing is perfectly harmless in itself, but it marks a sort
of foppery in the human character, which degrades it. It
reduces man into the diminutive of man in things which
are great, and the counterfeit of women in things which are
little. It talks about its fine blue ribbon like a girl, and
shows its new garter like a child. A certain writer, of some
antiquity, says : " When I was a child, I thought as a child ;
but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

320 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
It is, properly, from the elevated mind of France that the
folly of titles has fallen. It has outgrown the baby clothes
of Count and Duke, and breeched itself in manhood. France
has not levelled, it has exalted. It has put down the dwarf,
to set up the man. The punyism of a senseless word like
Duke, Count or Earl has ceased to please. Even those who
possessed them have disowned the gibberish, and as they
outgrew the rickets, have despised the rattle. The genuine
mind of man, thirsting for its native home, society, contemns
the gewgaws that separate him from it. Titles are like
circles drawn by the magician's wand, to contract the sphere
of man's felicity. He lives immured within the Bastille of
a word, and surveys at a distance the envied life of man.
Is it, then, any wonder that titles should fall in France?
Is it not a greater wonder that they should be kept up any
where ? What are they ? What is their worth, and " what
is their amount ? " When we think or speak of a Judge or a
General, we associate with it the ideas of office and character;
we think of gravity in one and bravery in the other ; but
when we use the word merely as a title, no ideas associate
with it. Through all the vocabulary of Adam there is not
such an animal as a Duke or a Count ; neither can we con
nect any certain ideas with the words. Whether they mean
strength or weakness, wisdom or folly, a child or a man, or
the rider or the horse, is all equivocal. What respect then
can be paid to that which describes nothing, and which means
nothing? Imagination has given figure and character to
centaurs, satyrs, and down to all the fairy tribe ; but titles
baffle even the powers of fancy, and are a chimerical non
descript. But this is not all. If a whole country is disposed to hold
them in contempt, all their value is gone, and none will own
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 con- '
curs to ridicule them. This species of imaginary consequence
has visibly declined in every part of Europe, and it hastens
to its exit as the world of reason continues to rise. There

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 321
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 armour riding throughout Christendom in quest 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 discovered in good time that rank
and dignity in society must take a new ground. The 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 had 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 this
makes it necessary to enquire farther into the nature and
character of aristocracy.
That, then, which is called aristocracy in some countries
and nobility in others arose out of the governments founded
upon conquest. It was originally a military order for the
purpose of supporting military government ( for such were
all governments founded in conquest ) ; and to keep up a
succession of this order for the purpose for which it was es
tablished, all the younger branches 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 the law against every other law of nature,
and Nature herself calls for its destruction. Establish family
justice, and aristocracy falls. By the aristocratical law of
primogenitureship, in a family of six children five are exposed.
Aristocracy has never more than one 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 on a parish, to be
VOL. II. — 21

322 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
,i 
I
j provided for by the public, but at a greater charge. Un-
' necessary offices and places in governments and courts are
created at the expense of the public to maintain them.
With what kind of parental reflexions can the father or
mother contemplate their younger offspring? By nature
they are children, and by marriage they are heirs ; but by
aristocracy they are bastards and orphans. They are the
flesh and blood of their parents in the one line, and nothing
akin to them in the other. To restore, therefore, parents to
their children, and children to their parents — relations to
each other, and man to society — and to exterminate the
monster aristocracy, root and branch — the French Constitu
tion has destroyed the law of PRIMOGENITURESHIP. Here
then lies the monster ; and Mr. Burke, if he pleases, may
write its epitaph.
Hitherto we have considered aristocracy chiefly in one
point of view. We have now to consider it in another. But
whether we view it before or behind, or sideways, or any way
else, domestically or publicly, it is still a monster.
In France aristocracy had one feature less in its counte
nance than what it has in some other countries. It did not
compose a body of hereditary legislators. It was not
" a corporation of aristocracy" for such I have heard M. de
la Fayette describe an English House of Peers. Let us
then examine the grounds upon which the French Constitu*
tion has resolved against having such a House in France.
Because, in the first place, as is already mentioned, aris
tocracy is kept up by family tyranny and injustice.
Secondly. Because there is an unnatural unfitness in an
aristocracy to be legislators for a nation. Their ideas of
distributive justice are corrupted at the very source. They
begin life by trampling on all their younger brothers and
sisters, and relations of every kind, and are taught and edu
cated so to do. With what ideas of justice or honor can
that man enter a house of legislation, who absorbs in his own
person the inheritance of a whole family of children or doles
out to them some pitiful portion with the insolence of a
gift?

I791! RIGHTS OF MAN.

323

Thirdly. Because the idea of hereditary legislators is as
inconsistent as that of hereditary judges, or hereditary
juries ; and as absurd as an hereditary mathematician, or
an hereditary wise man ; and as ridiculous as an hereditary
poet laureate.
Fourthly. Because a body of men, holding themselves
accountable to nobody, ought not to be trusted by anybody.
Fifthly. Because it is continuing the uncivilised principle
of governments founded in conquest, and the base idea of
man having property in man, and governing him by personal
right. Sixthly. Because aristocracy has a tendency to deteriorate V
the human species. By the universal economy of nature it
is known, and by the instance of the Jews it is proved, that
the human species has a tendency to degenerate, in any
small number of persons, when separated from the general
stock of society, and inter-marrying constantly with each
other. It defeats even its pretended end, and becomes in
time the opposite of what is noble in man. Mr. Burke talks
of nobility ; let him show what it is. The greatest charac
ters the world have known have arisen on the democratic
floor. Aristocracy has not been able to keep a proportionate
pace with democracy. The artificial NOBLE shrinks into a
dwarf before the NOBLE of Nature ; and in the few instances
of those ( for there are some in all countries ) in whom 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 pos
session of £ 10,000 a-year ; and cannot see why it is in worse
hands than estates to a like amount, in the hands of this

324 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
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 Hopkins, or Hopkins
and Sternhold ; you may put which you please first ; and as
I confess that I do not understand the merits of this case, I
will not contest 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 is
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 without pain or grudging, a Bishop of Dur
ham, or a Bishop of Winchester, in possession of ten thousand
pounds a-year, and a curate on thirty or forty pounds a-year,
or less." No, sir, they certainly do not see those things with
out great pain or grudging. It is a case that applies itself to
every man's sense of justice, and is one among many that
calls aloud for a constitution.
In France the cry of " the church ! the church ! " was re
peated as often as in Mr. Burke's book, and as loudly as
when the Dissenters' Bill was before the English Parliament ;
but the generality of the French clergy were not to be de
ceived by this cry any longer. They knew that whatever the
pretence might be, it was they who were one of the principal
objects of it. It was the cry of the high beneficed clergy, to
prevent any regulation of income taking place between those
of ten thousand pounds a-year and the parish priest. They
therefore joined their case to those of every other oppressed
class of men, and by this union obtained redress.
The French Constitution has abolished tythes, that source
of perpetual discontent between the tythe-holder and the
parishioner. When land is held on tythe, it is in the condi
tion of an estate held between two parties ; the one receiving
one-tenth, and the other nine-tenths of the produce : and
consequently, on principles of equity, if the estate can be
improved, and made to produce by that improvement double

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 325
or treble what it did before, or in any other ratio, the ex
pense of such improvement ought to be borne in like propor
tion between the parties who are to share the produce. But
this is not the case in tythes : the farmer bears the whole
expense, and the tythe-holder takes a tenth of the improve
ment, in addition to the original tenth, and 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 Tol
eration and Intolerance also, and hath established UNIVERSAL
Right of Conscience.
Toleration is not the opposite of Intolerance, but is the
counterfeit 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 faggot, and the other is the Pope selling or granting
indulgences. The former is church and state, and the latter
is church and traffic.
But Toleration may be viewed in a much stronger light.
Man worships not himself, but his Maker ; and the liberty
of conscience which he claims is not for the service of him
self, but of his God. In this case, therefore, we must
necessarily have the associated idea of two things ; the
mortal who renders the worship, and the Immortal Being
who is worshipped. Toleration, therefore, places itself, not
between man and man, nor between church and church, nor
between one denomination of religion and another, but be
tween God and man ; between the being who worships, and
the BEING who is worshipped ; and by the same act of as
sumed authority which it tolerates man to pay his worship,
it presumptuously and blasphemously sets itself up to tolerate
the Almighty to receive it.
Were a bill brought into any Parliament, entitled, " An
Act to tolerate or grant liberty to the Almighty to receive
the worship of a Jew or a Turk," or " to prohibit the Almighty
from receiving it," all men would startle and call it blas
phemy. There would be an uproar. The presumption of
toleration in religious matters would then present itself

326 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
unmasked ; but the presumption is not the less because the
name of " Man " only appears to those laws, for the associated
idea of the worshipper and the worshipped cannot be sep
arated. Who then art thou, vain dust and ashes ! by
whatever name thou art called, whether a King, a Bishop,
a Church, or a State, a Parliament, or anything else, that
obtrudest thine insignificance between the soul of man and
its Maker ? Mind thine own concerns. If he believes not
as thou believest, it is a proof that thou believest not as he
believes, and there is no earthly power can determine be
tween you.
With respect to what are called denominations of religion,
if every one is left to judge of its own religion, there is no
such thing as a religion that is wrong ; but if they are to
judge of each other's religion, there is no such thing as a
religion that is right ; and therefore all the world is right, or
all the world is wrong. But with respect to religion itself,
without regard to names, and as directing itself from the uni*
versal family of mankind to the Divine object of all adora
tion, it is man bringing to his Maker the fruits of his heart ;
and though those fruits may differ from each other like the
fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every one is ac
cepted. A Bishop of Durham, or a Bishop of Winchester, or the
archbishop who heads the dukes, will not refuse a tythe-sheaf
of wheat because it is not a cock of hay, nor a cock of hay
because it is not a sheaf of wheat ; nor a pig, because it is
neither one nor the other ; but these same persons, under
the figure of an established church, will not permit their
Maker to receive the varied tythes of man's devotion.
One of the continual choruses of Mr. Burke's book is
" Church and State." He does not mean some one particu
lar church, or some one particular state, but any church and
state ; and he uses the term as a general figure to hold forth
the political doctrine of always uniting the church with the
state in every country, and he censures the National Assem
bly for not having done this in France. Let us bestow a few
thoughts on this subject.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 327
All religions are in their nature kind and benign, and
united with principles of morality. They could not have
made proselytes at first by professing anything that was
vicious, cruel, persecuting, or immoral. Like everything
else, they had their beginning ; and they proceeded by per
suasion, exhortation, and example. How then is it that
they lose their native mildness, and become morose and
intolerant ?
It proceeds from the connection which Mr. Burke recom
mends. By engendering the church with the state, a sort of
mule-animal, capable only of destroying, and not of breeding
up, is produced, called the Church established by Law. It is
a stranger, even from its birth, to any parent mother, on
whom it is begotten, and whom in time it kicks out and
destroys. The inquisition in Spain does not proceed from the religion
originally professed, but from this mule-animal, engendered
between the church and the state. The burnings in Smith-
field proceeded from the same heterogeneous production ;
and it was the regeneration of this strange animal in Eng
land afterwards, that renewed rancour and irreligion among
the inhabitants, and that drove the people called Quakers
and Dissenters to America. Persecution is not an original
feature in any religion ; but it is alway the strongly-marked
feature of all law-religions, or religions established by law.
Take away the law-establishment, and every religion re-as
sumes its original benignity. In America, a catholic priest
is a good citizen, a good character, and a good neighbour ;
an episcopalian minister is of the same description : and
this proceeds independently of the men, from there being no
law-establishment in America.1
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 revoking the edict of Nantes drove the silk manufac-
1 But on his return to America, after writing the "Age of Reason,'' Paine
learned by sad experience that the disestablishment of a church does not imply
the disestablishment of Dogmas or of Intolerance. — Editor.

328 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
ture from that country into England ; and church and state
are now driving the cotton manufacture from England to
America and France. Let then Mr. Burke continue to
preach his antipolitical doctrine of Church and State. It
will do some good. The National Assembly will 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 experiencing them in France, that the
National Assembly have abolished it, and, like America, have
established UNIVERSAL RIGHT OF CONSCIENCE, AND UNI
VERSAL RIGHT OF CITIZENSHIP.*
I will here cease the comparison with respect to the prin-
* When in any country we see extraordinary circumstances taking place,
they naturally lead any man who has a talent for observation and investiga
tion, to enquire into the causes. The manufacturers of Manchester, Birming
ham, and Sheffield, are the principal manufacturers 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 called in
England, the church established by law : and they, or their fathers, (for it is
within but a few years) withdrew from the persecution of the chartered towns,
where test-laws more particularly operate, and established a sort of asylum for
themselves in those places. It was the only asylum that then offered, for the
rest of Europe was worse. — But the case is now changing. France and Amer
ica bid all comers welcome, and initiate them into all the rights of citizenship.
Policy and interest, therefore, will, but perhaps too late, dictate in England,
what reason and justice could not. Those manufacturers are withdrawing, and
arising in other places. There is now erecting in Passey, three miles from
Paris, a large cotton manufactory, and several are already erected in America.
Soon after the rejecting the Bill for repealing the test-law, one of the richest
manufacturers in England said in my hearing, ' ' England, Sir, is not a coun-
try for a dissenter to live in, — we must go to France. " These are truths, and
it is doing justice to both parties to tell them. It is chiefly the dissenters that
have carried English manufactures to the height they are now at, and the same
men have it in their power to carry them away ; and though those manufactures
would afterwards continue in those places, the foreign market will be lost.
There frequently appear in the London Gazette, extracts from certain acts to
prevent machines and persons, as far as they can extend to persons, from going
oat 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 never supply the remedy of reason. In the progress of less than a century,
all the unrepresented part of England, of all denominations, which is at least
an hundred times the most numerous, may begin to feel the necessity of a con
stitution, and then all those matters will come regularly before them. — Author.

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 329
ciples of the French constitution, and conclude this part of
the subject with a few observations on the organization of
the formal parts of the French and English governments.
The executive power in each country is in the hands of a
person stiled the King ; but the French constitution distin
guishes between the King and the Sovereign : It considers
the station of King as official, and places Sovereignty in the
nation. The representatives of the nation, who compose the Na
tional Assembly, and who are the legislative power, originate
in and 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 conquest all the rights of the people or the
nation were absorbed into 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 in England as grants from
what is called the crown. The Parliament in England, in
both its branches, was erected by patents from the descend
ants of the conqueror. The House of Commons did not
originate as a matter of right in the people to delegate or
elect, but as a grant or boon.
By the French Constitution the nation is always named
before the king. The third article of the declaration of
rights says : " The nation is essentially the source (or foun
tain) of all sovereignty." Mr. Burke argues that in England
a king is the fountain — that he is the fountain of all honor.
But as this idea is evidently descended from the conquest I
shall make no other remark upon it, than that it is the na
ture 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 foun
tain and the spout, he will be right the second time.
The French Constitution puts the legislative before the
executive, the law before the king ; la loi, le roi. This also
is in the natural order of things, because laws must have
existence before they can have execution.

330 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
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 consistently 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 from what is called the crown by
patent or boon — and not from the inherent rights of the
people, as the National Assembly 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 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 first place, one of the natural rights of man
always retained ; and with respect to the National Assembly
the use of it is their duty, and the nation is their authority.
They were elected by the greatest body of men exercising
the right of election the European world ever saw. They
sprung not from the filth of rotten boroughs, nor are they
the vassal representatives of aristocratical ones. Feeling
the proper dignity of their character they support it. Their
Parliamentary language, whether for or against a question,
is free, bold and manly, and extends to all the parts and cir
cumstances 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 in the language of gentlemen ; and their
answer or their address is returned in the same style. They
stand not aloof with the gaping vacuity of vulgar ignorance,
nor bend with the cringe of sycophantic insignificance. The
graceful pride of truth knows no extremes, and 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 the old Parliaments of
France, nor the serene dignity of the present National As
sembly ; neither do we see in them anything of the stile of

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 331
English manners, which border somewhat on bluntness.
Since then they are neither of foreign extraction, nor naturally
of English production, their origin must be sought for else
where, and that origin is the Norman Conquest. They are
evidently of the vassalage class of manners, and emphatically
mark the prostrate distance that exists in no other condition
of men than between the conqueror and the conquered.
That this vassalage idea and stile of speaking was not
got rid of even at the Revolution of 1688, is evident from
the declaration of Parliament to William and Mary in these
words : " We do most humbly and faithfully submit our
selves, our heirs and posterities, for ever." Submission
is wholly a vassalage 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
Revolution of 1688, however from circumstances it may
have been exalted beyond its value, will find its level. It
is already on the wane, eclipsed by the enlarging orb of
reason, and the luminous revolutions of America and
France. In less than another century it will go, as well as
Mr. Burke's labors, " to the family vault of all the Capu-
lets." Mankind will then scarcely believe that a country
calling itself free would send to Holland for a man, and
clothe him with power on purpose to put themselves in
fear of him, and give him almost a million sterling a year
for leave to submit themselves and their posterity, like
bondmen and bondwomen, for ever.
But there is a truth that ought to be made known ; I have
had the opportunity of seeing it ; which is, that notwithstand
ing appearances, there is not any description of men that despise
monarchy so much as courtiers. But they well know, that
if 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 a show, and to whom the folly of that
show is so familiar that they ridicule it ; but were the audi
ence 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 between a republican and a courtier with

332 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
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
believing him then to be a man of sounder principles than
his book shows him to be, I 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 ground on which their moral
duty and their political interest were united. They have
not to hold out a language which they do not themselves
believe, for the fraudulent purpose of making others believe
it. Their station requires no artifice to support it, and can
only be maintained by enlightening mankind. It is not
their interest to cherish ignorance, but to dispel it. They
are not in the case of a ministerial or an opposition party
in England, who, though they are opposed, 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
becomes. In contemplating the French Constitution, we see in it a
rational order of things. The principles harmonise with
the forms, and both with their origin. It may perhaps be
said as an excuse for bad forms, that they are nothing more
than 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 principle. It cannot be ingrafted on a good one;
and wherever 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 re
marking that Mr. Burke had voluntarily declined going into
a comparison of the English and French Constitutions. He
apologises (in page 241) for not doing it, by saying that he
had not time. Mr. Burke's book was upwards of eight

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 333
months in hand, and is extended to a volume of three
hundred and sixty-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 for 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 in a great crisis, not of the affairs of France alone, but of
all Europe, perhaps of more than Europe. All circum
stances taken together, the French Revolution is the
most astonishing that has hitherto happened in the world."
As wise men are astonished at foolish things, and other
people at wise ones, I know not on which ground to account
for Mr. Burke's astonishment ; but certain it is, 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 consequence of a mental revolution priorily existing
in France. The mind of the nation had changed before
hand, and the new order of things has naturally followed
the new order of thoughts. I will here, as concisely as
I can, trace out the growth of the French Revolution, and
mark the circumstances that have contributed to produce it.
The despotism of Louis XIV., united with the gaiety of
his Court, and the gaudy ostentation of his character, had
so humbled, and at the same time so fascinated the mind of
France, that the people appeared to have lost all sense of
their own dignity, in contemplating that of their Grand
Monarch ; and the whole reign of Louis XV., remarkable
only for weakness and effeminacy, made no other alteration
than that of spreading a sort of lethargy over the nation,
from which it shewed no disposition to rise.
The only signs which appeared of the spirit of Liberty
during those periods, are to be found in the writings of the
French philosophers. Montesquieu, President of the Parlia-

334 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i79r
ment of Bordeaux, went as far as a writer under a despotic
government could well proceed ; and being obliged to divide
himself between principle and prudence, his mind often
appears under a veil, and we ought to give him credit for
more than he has expressed.
Voltaire, who was both the flatterer and the satirist of
despotism, took another line. His forte lay in exposing
and ridiculing the superstitions which priest-craft, united
with state-craft, had interwoven with governments. It was
not from the purity of his principles, or his love of man
kind (for satire and philanthropy are not naturally concord
ant), but from his strong capacity of seeing folly in its true
shape, and his irresistible propensity to expose it, that he
made those attacks. They were, however, as formidable as
if the motive 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
the Abb6 Raynal, a loveliness of sentiment in favor of lib
erty, that excites respect, and elevates the human faculties ;
but having raised this animation, they do not direct its
operation, and leave the mind in love with an object, with
out describing the means of possessing it.
The writings of Quesnay, Turgot, and the friends of those
authors, are of the serious kind ; but they labored under
the same disadvantage with Montesquieu ; their writings
abound with moral maxims of government, but are rather
directed to ceconomise and reform the administration of the
government, than the government itself.
But all 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
knowledge of laws, Voltaire by his wit, Rousseau and Ray
nal by their animation, and Quesnay and Turgot by their
moral maxims and systems of ceconomy, readers of every
class met with something to their taste, and a spirit of polit
ical inquiry began to diffuse itself through the nation at the
time the dispute between England and the then colonies of
America broke out.

I791! RIGHTS OF MAN. 335
In the war which France afterwards engaged in, it is very
well known that the nation appeared to be before-hand with
the French ministry. Each of them had its view ; but
those views were directed to different objects ; the one
sought liberty, and the other retaliation on England. The
French officers and soldiers who after this went to America,
were eventually placed in the school of Freedom, and
learned the practice as well as the principles of it by heart.
As it was impossible to separate the military events which
took place in America from the principles of the American
Revolution, the publication of those events in France
necessarily connected themselves with the principles which
produced them. Many of the facts were in themselves
principles ; such as the declaration of American Indepen
dence, and the treaty of alliance between France and Amer
ica, which recognised the natural rights of man, and justified
resistance to oppression.
The 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 obtained, 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.
The diplomatic character is of itself the narrowest sphere of
society that man can act in. It forbids intercourse by the
reciprocity of suspicion ; and a diplomatic is a sort of uncon
nected atom, continually repelling and repelled. But this
was not the case with Dr. Franklin. He was not the diplo
matic of a Court, but of MAN. His character as a philoso
pher had been long established, and his circle of society in
France was universal.
Count Vergennes resisted for a considerable time the
publication in France of American constitutions, translated
into the French language : but even in this he was obliged

336 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
to give way to public opinion, and a sort of propriety in
admitting to appear what he had undertaken to defend.
The American constitutions were to liberty what a grammar
is to language : they define its parts of speech, and practi
cally 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 an American officer under a commission of Congress,
and by the universality of his acquaintance was in close
friendship with the civil government of America, as well as
with the military line. He spoke the language of the coun
try, entered into the discussions on the principles of govern
ment, and was always a welcome friend at any election.
When the war closed, a vast reinforcement to the cause
of Liberty spread itself over France, by the return of the
French officers and soldiers. A knowledge of the practice
was then joined to the theory ; and all that was wanting to
give it real existence was opportunity. Man cannot, properly
speaking, make circumstances for his purpose, but he always
has it in his power to improve them when they occur, and
this was the case in France.
M. Neckar was displaced in May, 1781 ; and by the ill-
management of the finances afterwards, and particularly
during the extravagant administration of M. Calonne, the
revenue of France, which was nearly twenty-four millions
sterling per year, was become unequal to the expenditure,
not because the revenue had decreased, but because the
expenses had increased ; and this was a circumstance which
the nation laid hold of to bring forward a Revolution. The
English Minister, Mr. Pitt, has frequently alluded to the
state of the French finances in his budgets, without under
standing the subject. Had the French Parliaments been
as ready to register edicts for new taxes as an English Par
liament is to grant them, there had been no derangement in
the finances, nor yet any Revolution ; but this will better
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

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 337
acting under the use of that name, framed the edicts for
taxes at their own discretion, and sent them to the Parlia
ments to be registered ; for until they were registered by
the Parliaments they were not operative. Disputes had
long existed between the Court and the Parliaments with
respect to the extent of the Parliament's authority on this
head. The Court insisted that the authority of Parliaments
went no farther 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 in consequence
thereof, either to withdraw the edict as a matter of choice,
or to order it to be enregistered as a matter of authority.
The Parliaments on their part insisted that they had not
only a right to remonstrate, but to- reject ; and on this
ground they were always supported by the nation.
But to return to the order of my narrative. M. Calonne
wanted money : and as he knew the sturdy disposition of
the Parliaments with respect to new taxes, he ingeniously
sought either to approach them by a more gentle means
than that of direct authority, or to get over their heads by
a manoeuvre ; and for this purpose he revived the project of
assembling a body of men from the several provinces, under
the style of an " Assembly of the Notables," or men of note,
who met in 1787, and who were either to recommend taxes
to the Parliaments, or to act as a Parliament themselves.
An Assembly under this name had been called in 161 7.
As we are to view this as the first practical step towards
the Revolution, it will be proper to enter into some partic
ulars respecting it. The Assembly of the Notables has in
some places been mistaken for the States-General, but was
wholly a different body, the States-General being always
by election. The persons who composed the Assembly of
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 ingeniously arranged them in such a manner
as to make forty-four a majority of one hundred and forty;
to effect this he disposed of them into seven separate com-
VOL. II. — 23

338 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
mittees, of twenty members each. Every general question
was to be decided, not by a majority of persons, but by a
majority of committees ; and as eleven votes would make 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 outvoted. But all his plans deceived him, and in the
event became his overthrow.
The then Marquis de la Fayette was placed in the second
committee, of which the Count D'Artois was president, and
as money matters were the object, it naturally brought into
view every circumstance connected with it. M. de la Fay
ette made a verbal charge against Calonne for selling crown
lands to the amount of two millions of livres, in a manner
that appeared to be unknown to the king. The Count
D'Artois (as if to intimidate, for the Bastille was then in
being) asked the Marquis if he would render the charge in
writing ? He replied that he would. The Count D'Artois
did not demand it, but brought a message from the king to
that purport. M. de la Fayette then delivered in his charge
in writing, to be given to the king, undertaking to support
it. No farther proceedings were had upon this affair, but
M. Calonne was soon after dismissed by the king and set off
to England.
As M. de la Fayette, from the experience of what he had
seen in America, was better acquainted with the science of
civil government than the generality of the members who
composed the Assembly of the Notables could then be, the
brunt of the business fell considerably to his share. The
plan of those who had a constitution in view was to contend
with the Court on the ground of taxes, and some of them
openly professed their object. Disputes frequently arose
between Count D'Artois and M. de la Fayette upon various
subjects. With respect to the arrears already incurred the
latter proposed to remedy them by accommodating the
expenses to the revenue instead of the revenue to the
expenses ; and as objects of reform he proposed to abolish
the Bastille and all the State prisons throughout the nation

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 339
(the keeping 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 appeared to be in favour of
them. On the subject of supplying the Treasury by new taxes
the Assembly declined taking the matter on themselves,
concurring in the opinion that they had not authority. In
a debate on this subject M. de la Fayette said that raising
money by taxes could only be done by a National Assembly,
freely elected by the people, and acting as their representa
tives. Do you mean, said the Count D'Artois, the States-
General? M. de la Fayette replied that he did. Will you,
said the Count D'Artois, sign what you say to be given to
the king ? The other replied that he would not only do
this but that he would go farther, and say that the effectual
mode would be for the king to agree to the establishment
of a constitution.
As one of the plans had thus failed, that of getting the
Assembly to act as a Parliament, the other came into view,
that of recommending. On this subject the Assembly
agreed to recommend two new taxes to be enregistered by
the Parliament : the one a stamp-tax and the other a terri
torial tax, or sort of land-tax. The two have been estimated
at about five millions sterling per annum. We have now to
turn our attention to the Parliaments, on whom the business
was again devolving.
The Archbishop of Thoulouse (since Archbishop of Sens,
and now a Cardinal), was appointed to the administration
of the finances soon after the dismission of Calonne. He
was also made Prime Minister, an office that did not always
exist in France. When this office did not exist, the chief
of each of the principal departments transacted business
immediately with the King, but when a Prime Minister was
appointed they did business only with him. The Archbishop
arrived to more state-authority than any minister since the
Duke de Choiseul, and the nation was strongly disposed in
his favor ; but by a line of conduct scarcely to be ac-

340 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [179 1
counted for he perverted every opportunity, turned out a
despot, and sunk into disgrace, and a Cardinal.
The Assembly of the Notables having broken up, the
minister sent the edicts for the two new taxes recommended
by the Assembly to the Parliaments to be enregistered.
They of course came first before the Parliament of Paris,
who returned for answer : " that with such a revenue as the
nation then supported the name of taxes ought not to be
mentioned but for the purpose of reducing them " ; and
threw both the edicts out.*
On this refusal the Parliament was ordered to Versailles,
where, in the usual form, the King held what under the old
government was called a Bed of Justice; and the two edicts
were enregistered in presence of the Parliament by an order
of State, in the manner mentioned, p. 337. On this the
Parliament immediately returned to Paris, renewed their
session in form, and ordered the enregistering to be struck
out, declaring that everything done at Versailles was illegal.
All the members of the Parliament were then served
with Lettres de Cachet, and exiled to '.'. tois ; but as they
continued as inflexible in exile as before, and as vengeance
did not supply the place of taxes, they were after a short
time recalled to Paris.
The edicts were again tendered to them, and the Count
D'Artois undertook to act as representative of the King.
For this purpose he came from Versailles to Paris, in a
train of procession ; and the Parliament were assembled to
receive him. But show and parade had lost their influence
in France ; and whatever ideas of importance he might set
off with, he had to return with those of mortification and
disappointment. On alighting from his carriage to ascend
the steps of the Parliament House, the crowd (which was
numerously collected) threw out trite expressions, saying:
" This is Monsieur D'Artois, who wants more of our money
to spend." The marked disapprobation which he saw im-
* When the English Minister, Mr. Pitt, mentions the French finances again
in the English Parliament, it would be well that he noticed this as an example.
— A uthor.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 34I
pressed him with apprehensions, and the word Aux armes !
( To arms /) was given out by the officer of the guard who
attended him. It was so loudly vociferated, that it echoed
through the avenues of the house, and produced a tem
porary confusion. I was then standing in one of the
apartments through which he had to pass, and could not
avoid reflecting how wretched was the condition of a dis
respected man.*
After this a new subject took place : In the various
debates and contests which arose between the Court and
the Parliaments on the subject of taxes, the Parliament of
Paris at last declared that although it had been customary
for Parliaments to enregister edicts for taxes as a matter
of convenience, the right belonged only to the States-Gen
eral; and that, therefore, the Parliament could no longer
with propriety continue to debate on what it had not
authority to act. The King after this came to Paris and
held a meeting with the Parliament, in which he continued
from ten in the morning till about six in the evening, and,
in a manner that appeared to proceed from him as if
unconsulted upon with the Cabinet or Ministry, gave his
word to the Parliament that the States-General should be
convened. But after this another scene arose, on a ground different
from all the former. The Minister and the Cabinet were
averse to calling the States-General. They well knew that
if the States-General were assembled, themselves must fall ;
and as the King had not mentioned any time, they hit on a
project calculated to elude, without appearing to oppose.
For this purpose, the Court set about making a sort of
constitution itself. It was principally the work of M.
Lamoignon, the Keeper of the Seals, who afterwards shot
himself. This new arrangement consisted in establishing a
body under the name of a Cour PlSniere, or Full Court, in
which were invested all the powers that the Government
might have occasion to make use of. The persons compos
ing this Court were to be nominated by the King; the
contended right of taxation was given up on the part of the
* See Note, page 356.

342 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
King, and a new criminal code of laws and law proceedings
was substituted in the room of the former. The thing, in
many points, contained better principles than those upon
which the Government had hitherto been administered ;
but with respect to the Cour PMniire, it was no other than
a medium through which despotism was to pass, without
appearing to act directly from itself.
The Cabinet had high expectations from their new con
trivance. The persons who were to compose the Cour PUniire
were already nominated ; and as it was necessary to carry a fair
appearance, many of the best characters in the nation
were appointed among the number. It was to commence
on May 8, 1788 ; but an opposition arose to it on two
grounds — the one as to principle, the other as to form.
On the ground of Principle it was contended that Govern
ment had not a right to alter itself, and that if the practice
was once admitted it would grow into a principle and be
made 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
Government. And on the ground of form it was contended
that the Cour Ple'niere was nothing more than a larger
Cabinet. The then Duke de la Rochefoucault, Luxembourg, De
Noailles, and many others, refused to accept the nomina
tion, and strenuously opposed the whole plan. When the
edict for establishing this new court was sent to the Parlia
ments to be enregistered and put into execution, they
resisted also. The Parliament of Paris not only refused,
but denied the authority ; and the contest renewed itself
between the Parliament and the Cabinet more strongly than
ever. While the Parliament were sitting in debate on this
subject, the Ministry ordered a regiment of soldiers to
surround the House and form a blockade. The members
sent out for beds and provisions, 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 them,
which he did, and some of the principal members were shut

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 343
up in different prisons. About the same time a deputation
of persons arrived from the province of Brittany to remon
strate against the establishment of the Cour PUniire, and
those the archbishop sent to the Bastille. But the spirit of
the nation was not to be overcome, and it was so fully
sensible of the strong ground it had taken — that of with
holding taxes — that it contented itself with keeping up a
sort of quiet resistance, which effectually overthrew all the
plans at that time formed against it. The project of the
Cour PISniere was at last obliged to be given up, and the
Prime Minister not long afterwards followed its fate, and M.
Neckar was recalled into office.
The attempt to establish the Cour PUniere had an effect
upon the nation which itself did not perceive. It was a sort of
new form of government that insensibly served to put the
old one out of sight and to unhinge it from the superstitious
authority of antiquity. It was Government dethroning
Government ; and the old one, by attempting to make a new
one, made a chasm.
The failure of this scheme renewed the subject of conven
ing the States-General ; and this gave rise to a new
series of politics. There was no settled form for convening
the States-General : all that it positively meant was a deputa
tion from what was then called the Clergy, the Noblesse, and
the Commons ; but their numbers or their proportions had
not been always the same. They had been convened only
on extraordinary occasions, the last of which was in 1614 ;
their numbers were then in equal proportions, and they voted
by orders.
It could not well escape the sagacity of M. Neckar, that
the mode of 1614 would answer neither the purpose of the
then government nor of the nation. As matters were at that
time circumstanced it would have been too contentious to
agree upon anything. The debates would have been endless
upon privileges and exemptions, in which neither the wants
of the Government nor the wishes of the nation for a Con
stitution would have been attended to. But as he did not
chuse to take the decision upon himself, he summoned again

344 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
the Assembly of the Notables and referred it to them. This
body was in general interested in the decision, being chiefly
of aristocracy and high-paid clergy, and they decided in favor
of the mode of 1614. This decision was against the sense
of the Nation, and also against the wishes of the Court ; for
the aristocracy opposed itself to both and contended for
privileges independent of either. The subject was then taken
up by the Parliament, who recommended that the number
of the Commons should be equal to the other two : and they
should all sit in one house and vote in one body. The number
finally determined on was 1,200; 600 to be chosen by the
Commons ( and this was less than their proportion ought to
have been when their worth and consequence is considered
on a national scale), 300 by the Clergy, and 300 by the
Aristocracy ; but with respect to the mode of assembling
themselves, whether together or apart, or the manner in
which they should vote, those matters were referred.*
The election that followed, was not a contested election,
but an animated one. The candidates were not men, but
* Mr. Burke, (and I must take the liberty of telling him that he is very unac
quainted with French affairs,) speaking upon this subject, says, " The first thing
that struck me in calling the States-General, was a great departure from the an
cient course ; " — and he soon after says, " From the moment I read the list, I
saw distinctly, and very nearly as it has happened, all that was to follow." — Mr.
Burke certainly did not see all that was to follow. I endeavored to impress
him, as well before as after the States-General met, that there would be a revolu
tion ; but was not able to make him see it, neither would he believe it. How
then he could distinctly see all the parts, when the whole was out of sight, is
beyond my comprehension. And with respect to the "departure from the
ancient course," besides the natural weakness of the remark, it shews that he is
unacquainted with circumstances. The departure was necessary, from the ex
perience had upon it, that the ancient course was a bad one. The States-General
of 1614 were called at the commencement of the civil war in the minority of
Louis XIII. ; but by the class of arranging them by orders, they increased the
confusion they were called to compose. The author of V Intrigue du Cabinet,
(Intrigue of the Cabinet,) who wrote before any revolution was thought of in
France, speaking of the States-General of 1614, says, " They held the public in
suspense five months ; and by the questions agitated therein, and the heat with
which they were put, it appears that the great {les grands) thought more to satisfy
their particular passions, than to procure the goods of the nation ; and the
whole time passed away in altercations, ceremonies and parade." L' Intrigue du
Cabinet, vol. i. p. 329. — Author.

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 345
principles. Societies were formed in Paris, and committees
of correspondence and communication established through
out the nation, for the purpose of enlightening the people,
and explaining to them the principles of civil government ;
and so orderly was the election conducted, that it did not
give rise even to the rumor of tumult.
The States-General were to meet at Versailles in April
1789, but did not assemble till May. They situated them
selves in three separate chambers, or rather the Clergy and
Aristocracy withdrew each into a separate chamber. The
majority of the Aristocracy claimed what they called the
privilege of voting as a separate body, and of giving their
consent or their negative in that manner ; and many of the
bishops and the high-beneficed clergy claimed the same privi
lege on the part of their Order.
The Tiers Etat (as they were then called ) disowned any
knowledge of artificial orders and artificial privileges ; and
they were not only resolute on this point, but somewhat dis
dainful. They began to consider the Aristocracy as a kind
of fungus growing out of the corruption of society, that
could not be admitted even as a branch of it ; and from the
disposition the Aristocracy has shown by upholding Lettres
de Cachet, and in sundry other instances, it was manifest
that no constitution could be formed by admitting men in
any other character than as National Men.
After various altercations on this head, the Tiers Etat
or Commons (as they were then called) declared themselves
(on a motion made for that purpose by the Abbe" Sieyes)
" The Representative of the Nation ; and that the two
Orders could be considered but as deputies of corporations, and
could only have a deliberate voice when they assembled in a
national character with the national representatives!' This
proceeding extinguished the style of Etats Gdneraux, or
States-General, and erected it into the style it now bears,
that of L' Assemble Nationale, or National Assembly.
This motion was not made in a precipitate manner. It
was the result of cool deliberation, and concerned between
the national representatives and the patriotic members of

346 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
the two chambers, who saw into the folly, mischief, and in
justice of artificial privileged distinctions. It was become
evident, that no constitution, worthy of being called by that
name, could be established on anything less than a national
ground. The Aristocracy had hitherto opposed the despot-
ism of the Court, and affected the language of patriotism ;
but it opposed it as its rival (as the English Barons opposed
King John), and it now opposed the nation from the same
motives. On carrying this motion, the national representatives, as
had been concerted, sent an invitation to the two chambers,
to unite with them in a national character, and proceed to
business. A majority of the clergy, chiefly 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 circumstance, which is necessary to its explanation; 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 arrangement, they drew
off by degrees, always leaving some, as well to reason the
case, as to watch the suspected. In a little time the numbers
increased from forty-five to eighty, and soon after to a greater
number ; which, with the majority of the clergy, and the
whole of the national representatives, put the malcontents
in a very diminutive condition.
The King, who, very different from the general class called
by that name, is a man of a good heart, shewed himself dis
posed to recommend a union of the three chambers, on the
ground the National Assembly had taken ; but the malcon
tents exerted themselves to prevent it, and began now to
have another project in view. Their numbers consisted of
a majority of the aristocratical chamber, and the minority
of the clerical chamber, chiefly of bishops and high-bene-
ficed clergy ; and these men were determined to put every
thing to issue, as well by strength as by stratagem. They
had no objection to a constitution ; but it must be such a one
as themselves should dictate, and suited to their own views

I791! RIGHTS OF MAN. 347
and particular situations. On the other hand, the Nation
disowned knowing anything of them but as citizens, and was
determined to shut out all such up-start pretensions. The
more aristocracy appeared, the more it was despised ; there
was a visible imbecility and want of intellects in the major
ity, a sort of je ne sais quoi, that while it affected to be more
than citizen, was less than man. It lost ground from con
tempt more than from hatred ; and was rather jeered at as
an ass, than dreaded as a lion. This is the general character
of aristocracy, or what are called Nobles or Nobility, or
rather No-ability, in all countries.
The plan of the mal-contents consisted now of two things ;
either to deliberate and vote by chambers (or orders), more
especially 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 As
sembly entirely.
To effect one or other of these objects they began to cul
tivate a friendship with the despotism they had hitherto at
tempted to rival, and the Count D'Artois became their chief.
The king (who has since declared himself deceived into their
measures) held, according to the old form, a Bed of Justice,
in which he accorded to the deliberation and vote par tite
(by head) upon several subjects ; but reserved the delibera
tion and vote upon all questions respecting a constitution to
the three chambers separately. This declaration of the
king was made against the advice of M. Neckar, who now
began to perceive that he was growing out of fashion at
Court, and that another minister was in contemplation.
As the form of sitting in separate chambers was yet appar
ently kept up, though essentially destroyed, the national
representatives immediately after this declaration of the
King resorted to their own chambers to consult on a pro
test against it ; and the minority of the chamber (calling
itself the Nobles), who had joined the national cause, re
tired to a private house to consult in like manner. The
mal-contents had by this time concerted their measures with

348 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [179 1
the court, which the Count D'Artois undertook to conduct ;
and as they saw from the discontent which the declaration
excited, and the opposition making against it, that they
could not obtain a control over the intended constitution by
a separate vote, they prepared themselves for their final ob
ject — that of conspiring against the National Assembly, and
overthrowing it.
The next morning the door of the chamber of the Na
tional Assembly was shut against them, and guarded 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 find,
and, after renewing their session, took an oath never to sepa
rate from each other, under any circumstance whatever, death
excepted, until they had established a constitution. As the
experiment of shutting up the house had no other effect than
that of producing a closer connection in the members, it was
opened again the next day, and the public business recom
menced in the usual place.
We are now to have in view the forming of the new min
istry, which was to accomplish the overthrow of the National
Assembly. But as force would be necessary, orders were
issued to assemble thirty thousand troops, the command of
which was given to Broglio, one of the intended new min
istry, who was recalled from the country for this purpose.
But as some management was necessary to keep this plan
concealed till the moment it should be ready for execution,
it is to this policy that a declaration made by Count D'Ar
tois must be attributed, and which is here proper to be
introduced. It could not but occur while the mal-contents continued
to resort to their chambers separate from the National As
sembly, 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 a declaration made by
the Count D'Artois : " That if they took not a part in the

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN.

349

National Assembly, the life of the king would be endangered" :
on which they quitted 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 Count D'Artois calculated
merely to relieve the outstanding members of the two
chambers from the diminutive situation they were put in ;
and if nothing more had followed, this conclusion would
have been good. But as things best explain themselves by
their events, this apparent union was only a cover to the
machinations which were secretly going on ; and the decla
ration accommodated itself to answer that purpose. In
a little time the National Assembly found itself surrounded
by troops, and thousands more were daily arriving. On this
a very strong declaration was made by the National Assem
bly to the King, remonstrating on the impropriety of the
measure, and demanding the reason. The King, who was
not in the secret of this business, as himself afterwards de
clared, gave substantially for answer, that he had no other
object in view than to preserve the public tranquility, which
appeared to be much disturbed.
But in a few days from this time the plot unravelled itself.
M. Neckar and the ministry were displaced, and a new one
formed of the enemies of the Revolution ; and Broglio, with
between twenty-five and thirty thousand foreign troops, was
arrived to support them. The mask was now thrown off,
and matters were come to a crisis. The event was that in a
space of three days the new ministry and their abettors
found it prudent to fly the nation ; the Bastille was taken,
and Broglio and his foreign troops dispersed, as is already
related in the former part of this work.
There are some curious circumstances in the history of
this short-lived ministry, and this short-lived attempt at a
counter-revolution. The Palace of Versailles, where the
court was sitting, was not more than four hundred yards
distant from the hall where the National Assembly was sit
ting. The two places were at this moment like the separate
headquarters of two combatant armies ; yet the Court was

350 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
as perfectly ignorant of the information which had arrived
from Paris to the National Assembly, as if it had resided at
an hundred miles distance. The then Marquis de la Fay
ette, who (as has been already mentioned) was chosen to
preside in the National Assembly on this particular occasion,
named by order of the Assembly three successive deputa
tions to the king, on the day and up to the evening on which
the Bastille 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 dextrously 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 disguise, and some in another, and none in their
own character. Their anxiety now was to outride the news,
lest they should be stopt, which, though it flew fast, flew not
so fast as themselves.
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. Occu
pied with establishing a constitution founded on the Rights
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 character of impertinent governments, found
ing themselves on their own authority, or on the absurdity
of hereditary succession. It is the faculty of the human
mind to become what it contemplates, and to act in unison
with its object.
The conspiracy being thus dispersed, one of the first works
of the National Assembly, instead of vindictive proclama
tions, as .has been the case with other governments, was to
publish a declaration of the Rights' of Man, as the basis on
which the new constitution was to be built, and which is
here subjoined :

I79IJ RIGHTS OF MAN. 35 1
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 contempt of human rights, are the sole causes of
public misfortunes and corruptions of Government, have
resolved to set forth in a solemn declaration, these natural,
imprescriptible, and inalienable rights : that this declaration
being constantly present to the minds of the members of
the body social, they may be forever kept attentive to
their rights and their duties ; that the acts of the legislative
and executive powers of Government, being capable of being
every moment compared with the end of political institu
tions, may be more respected ; and also, that the future
claims of the citizens, being directed by simple and incon
testable principles, may always tend to the maintenance of
the Constitution, and the general happiness.
" For these reasons the National Assembly doth recog
nise 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 :
" ' I. Men are born, and always continue, free and equal in
respect of their rights. Civil distinctions, therefore, can be
founded only on public utility.
" ' 77. The end of all political associations is the preserva
tion of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man ; and
these rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance of
oppression. " ' III. 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.
" ' IV. Political Liberty consists in the power of doing
whatever does not injure another. The exercise of the

352 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
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 determi
nable only by the law.
" ' V. The law ought to prohibit only actions hurtful to
society. What is not prohibited by the law should not be
hindered ; nor should anyone be compelled to that which
the law does not require.
" ' VI. The law is an expression of the will of the com
munity. All citizens have a right to concur, either person
ally or by their representatives, in its formation. It should
be the same to all, whether it protects or punishes ; and all
being equal in its sight, are equally eligible to all honors,
places, and employments, according to their different abili
ties, without any other distinction than that created by their
virtues and talents.
" ' VII. No man should be accused, arrested, or held in
confinement, except in cases determined by the law, and ac
cording to the forms which it has prescribed. All who pro
mote, 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 renders himself culpable by resistance.
"'VIII. The law ought to impose no other penalties but
such as are absolutely and evidently necessary ; and no one
ought to be punished, but in virtue of a law promulgated
before the offence, and legally applied.
" ' IX. Every man being presumed innocent till he has
been convicted, whenever his detention becomes indispensa
ble, all rigor to him, more than is necessary to secure his
person, ought to be provided against by the law.
" ' X. No man ought to be molested on account of his
opinions, not even on account of his religious opinions, pro
vided his avowal of them does not disturb the public order
established by the law.
" ' XI. The unrestrained communication of thoughts
and opinions being one of the most precious rights of man,
every citizen may speak, write and publish freely, provided

i79rl RIGHTS OF MAN. 353
he is responsible for the abuse of this liberty, in cases deter
mined by the law.
" ' XII. A public force being necessary to give security
to the rights of men and of citizens, that force is instituted
for the benefit of the community and not for the particular
benefit of the persons to 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 members of the community, according to their
abilities. " ' XIV. Every citizen has a right, either by himself or
his representative, to a free voice in determining the ne
cessity of 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.
" XVI. Every community in which a separation of pow
ers and a security of rights is not provided for, wants a con
stitution. "'XVII. The right to property being inviolable and
sacred, no one ought to be deprived of it, except in cases of
evident public necessity, legally ascertained, and on con
dition of a previous just indemnity.' "

OBSERVATIONS ON THE
DECLARATION OF RIGHTS.
THE first three articles comprehend in general terms the
whole of a Declaration of Rights, all the succeeding articles
either originate from them or follow as elucidations. The
4th, 5th, and 6th define more particularly what is only
generally expressed in the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd.
The 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, and 1 ith articles are declaratory of
principles upon which laws shall be constructed, conformable
VOL. II. — 23

354 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
to rights already declared. But it is questioned by some
very good people in France, as well as in other countries,
whether the 10th article sufficiently guarantees the right it
is intended to accord with ; besides which it takes off from
the divine dignity of religion, and weakens its operative
force upon the mind, to make 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 is obscured from
his sight, and he sees nothing to reverence in the dusky
ray.* The remaining articles, beginning with the twelfth, are
substantially contained in the principles of the preceding
articles ; but in the particular situation in which France then
was, having to undo what was wrong, as well as to set up
what was right, it was proper to be more particular than
what in another condition of things would be necessary.
While the Declaration of Rights was before the National
Assembly some of its members remarked that if a declara
tion of rights were 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
* There is a. single idea, which, if it strikes rightly upon the mind, eithef
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 government were known in the world, there
existed, if I may so express it, a compact 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 by any hu
man laws or human authority, that religious devotion, which is a part 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 human, are
subsequent thereto. The first act of man, when he looked around and saw
himself a creature which he did not make, and a. world furnished for his re
ception, must have been devotion ; and devotion must ever continue sacred to
every individual man, as it appears right to him ; and governments do mischief
by interfering. — Author.
Edmund Randolph, first Attorney-General of the United States, writing to
Madison (Feb. 29, 1788) remarks concerning the new constitution's Ait.
VI. Sect. 3: "Does not this exception as to a religious test imply that the
Congress, by the general words, had power over religion ? " — Editor.

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 355
enough. A Declaration of Rights is, by reciprocity, a Dec
laration of Duties also. Whatever is my right as a man is
also the right of another ; and it becomes my duty to guar
antee as well as to possess.
The first three articles are the basis of Liberty, as well
individual as national ; nor can any country be called free
whose government does not take its beginning from the
principles they contain, 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 exordium which prefaces the Declara
tion of 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
transcendantly unequalled by anything in the European
world, that the name of a Revolution is diminutive 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 it is 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 cry now
is, " It has gone too far " — that is, it has gone too far for
them. It stares corruption in the face, and the venal tribe
are all alarmed. Their fear discovers itself in their outrage,
and they are but publishing the groans of a wounded vice.
But from such opposition the French Revolution, instead of
suffering, receives an homage. The more it is struck the
more sparks it will 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 his own.
Having now traced the progress of the French Revolution
through most of its principal stages, from its commencement

356 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
to the taking of the Bastille, 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 oppressed / " *
* See page 18 of this work. — N. B. Since the taking of the Bastille, the
occurrences have been published ; but the matters recorded in this narrative,
are prior to that period ; and some of them, as may be easily seen, can be but
very little known. — Author.
Note : The Editor regrets that the following passage, which should have
been inserted after the eighth line on page 341, was omitted :
He endeavoured to impress the Parliament by great words, and opened his
authority by saying, ' ' The King, our Lord and Master. " The Parliament
received him very coolly, and with their usual determination not to register the
taxes : and in this manner the interview ended.

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 in a Miscellaneous
Chapter ; by which variety might not be censured for confu
sion. Mr. Burke's book is all Miscellany. His intention
was to make an attack on the French Revolution ; but in
stead 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 a wrong cause at
tempts to steer his course by anything else than some polar
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 having this guide always in view. Neither mem
ory 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 of itself ; it happened to fall in his
way to give some account of what Government is. " Gov
ernment!' says he, " is a contrivance of human wisdom."
Admitting that government is a contrivance of human
wisdom, it must necessarily follow, that hereditary succes
sion, and hereditary rights (as they are called), can make no
part of it, because it is impossible to make wisdom heredi
tary ; and on the other hand, that cannot be a wise contriv
ance, which in its operation may commit the government
357

358 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
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 shew that every one in the line of hereditary suc
cession was a Solomon, or his title is not good to be a king.
What a stroke has Mr. Burke now made ! To use a sailor's
phrase, he has swabbed the deck, and scarcely left a name
legible in the list of Kings ; and he has mowed down and
thinned the House of Peers, with a scythe as formidable as
Death and Time.
But Mr. Burke appears to have been aware of this retort ;
and he has taken care to guard against it, by making gov
ernment to be 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 pro
vided 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
dextrously, for he makes their wants to be a want of wis
dom ; but as this is cold comfort, he then informs them, that
they have a right (not to any of the wisdom) but to be gov
erned by it ; and in order to impress them with a solemn
reverence for this monopoly-government of wisdom, and of
its vast capacity for all purposes, possible or impossible,
right or wrong, he proceeds with astrological mysterious im
portance, to tell to them its powers in these words : " The
rights of men in government are their advantages ; and
these are often in balance between differences of good ; and
in compromises sometimes between good and evil, and some
times between evil and evil. Political reason is a computing
principle ; adding — subtracting— multiplying — and dividing,
morally and not metaphysically or mathematically, true moral
denominations." As the wondering audience, whom Mr. Burke supposes
himself talking to, may not understand all this learned jar-

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 359
gon, I will undertake to be its interpreter. The meaning,.
then, good people, of all this, is : That government is gov
erned by no principle whatever ; that it can make evil good, or
good evil, just as it pleases. In short, that government is arbi
trary power.
But there are some things which Mr. Burke has forgotten.
First, he has not shewn where the wisdom originally came
from : and secondly, he has not shewn by what authority it
first began to act. In the manner he introduces the matter,
it 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 a government necessary to be
kept out of sight, or from both, or from any other cause, I
undertake not to determine, but so it is, that a monarchical
reasoner never traces government to its source, or from its
source. It is one of the shibboleths by which he may be
known. A thousand years hence, those who shall live in
America or France, will look back with contemplative pride
on the origin of their government, 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 noth
ing. A certain something forbids him to look back to a be
ginning, lest some robber, or some Robin Hood, should rise
from the long obscurity of time and say, I am the origin.
Hard as Mr. Burke labored at the Regency Bill and Heredi
tary Succession two years ago, and much as he dived for
precedents, he still had not boldness enough to bring up
William of Normandy, and say, There is the head of the list !
there is the fountain of honor ! the son of a prostitute, and
the plunderer of the English nation.
The opinions of men with respect to government are
changing fast in all countries. The Revolutions of America
and France have thrown a beam of light over the world,
which reaches into man. The enormous expense of govern
ments has provoked people to think, by making them feel ;
and when once the veil begins to rend, it admits not of re-

360 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
pair. Ignorance is of a peculiar nature : once dispelled, it
is impossible to re-establish it. It is not originally a thing
of itself, but is only the absence of knowledge ; and though
man may be kept ignorant, he cannot be made ignorant.
The mind, in discovering truth, acts in the same manner as
it acts through the eye in discovering objects; when once
any object has been seen, it is impossible to put the mind
back to the same condition it was in before it saw it. Those
who talk of a counter-revolution in France, show how little
they understand of man. There does not exist in the com
pass of language an arrangement of words to express so
much as the means of effecting a counter-revolution. The
means must be an obliteration of knowledge ; and it has
never yet been discovered how to make man unknow his
V knowledge, or unthink his thoughts.
Mr. Burke is laboring in vain to stop the progress of
knowledge ; and it comes with the worse grace from him, as
there is a certain transaction known in the city which ren
ders him suspected of being a pensioner in a fictitious name.
This may account for some strange doctrine he has advanced
in his book, which though he points it at the Revolution
Society, is effectually directed against the whole nation.
" The King of England," says he, " holds his crown (for
it does not belong to the Nation, according to Mr. Burke)
in contempt of the choice of the Revolution Society, who have
not a single vote for a king among them either individually
or collectively ; and his Majesty's heirs each in their time and
order, will come to the Crown with the same contempt of their
choice, with which his Majesty has succeeded to that which he
now wears."
As to who is King in England or elsewhere, or whether
there is any King at all, or whether the people choose a
Cherokee chief, or a Hessian hussar for a King, it is not a
matter that I trouble myself about — be that to themselves ;
but with respect to the doctrine, so far as it relates to
the Rights of Men and Nations, it is as abominable as anything
ever uttered in the most enslaved country under heaven.
Whether it sounds worse to my ear, by not being accustomed

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 361

to hear such despotism, than what it does to the ear of
another person, I am not so well a judge of; but of its
abominable principle I am at no loss to judge.
It is not the Revolution Society that Mr. Burke means ;
it is the Nation, as well in its original as in its representative
character ; and he has taken care to make himself understood,
by saying that they have not a vote either collectively or in
dividually. The Revolution Society is composed of citizens
of all denominations, and of members of both the Houses
of Parliament ; and consequently, if there is not a right to
a vote in any of the characters, there can be no right to
any either in the nation or in its Parliament. This ought
to be a caution to every country how it imports foreign
families to be kings. It is somewhat curious to observe,
that although the people of England had been in the habit
of talking about kings, it is always a Foreign House of
Kings ; hating Foreigners yet governed by them. — It is now
the House of Brunswick, one of the petty tribes of Ger
many. It has hitherto been the practice of the English Parlia
ments to regulate what was called the succession ( taking it
for granted that the Nation then continued to accord to the
form of annexing a monarchical branch of its government;
for without this the Parliament could not have had authority
to have sent either to Holland or to Hanover, or to impose
a king upon the nation against its will.) And this must be the
utmost limit to which Parliament can go upon this case ; but
the right of the Nation goes to the whole case, because it has
the right of changing its whole form of government. The
right of a Parliament is only a right in trust, a right by dele
gation, and that but from a very small part of the Nation ;
and one of its Houses has not even this. But the right of
the Nation is an original right, as universal as taxation. The
nation is the paymaster of everything, and everything must
conform to its general will.
I remember taking notice of a speech in what is called the
English House of Peers, by the then Earl of Shelburne, and
I think it was at the time he was Minister, which is applic-

362 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
able to this case. I do not directly charge my memory
with every particular ; but the words and the purport, as
nearly as I remember, were these.- "That the form of a
Government was a matter wholly at the will of the Nation at
all times, that if it chose a monarchical form, it had a right
to have it so ; and if it afterwards chose to be a Republic, it had
a right to be a Republic, and to say to a King, ' We have no
longer any occasion for you! "
When Mr. Burke says that " His Majesty's heirs and suc
cessors, each in their time and order, will come to the crown
with the same contempt of their choice with which His Majesty
had succeeded to that he wears," it is saying too much even
to the humblest individual in the country ; part of whose
daily labor goes towards making up the million sterling a-year,
which the country gives the person it styles a king. Gov
ernment with insolence is despotism ; but when contempt is
added it becomes worse ; and to pay for contempt is the
excess of slavery. This species of government comes from
Germany ; and reminds me of what one of the Brunswick
soldiers told me, who was taken prisoner by the Americans
in the late war : " Ah ! " said he, " America is a fine free
country, it is worth the people's fighting for ; I know the
difference by knowing my own : in my country, if the prince
says eat straw, we eat straw." God help that country,
thought I, be it England or elsewhere, whose liberties are to
be protected by German principles of government, and
Princes of Brunswick !
As Mr. Burke sometimes speaks of England, sometimes
of France, and sometimes of the world, and of government
in general, it is difficult to answer his book without appar
ently meeting him on the same ground. Although principles
of Government are general subjects, it is next to impossible,
in many cases, to separate them from the idea of place and
circumstance, 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 says : " No experience has taught us
(meaning the English), that in any other course or method

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN, 363
than that of a hereditary crown, can our liberties be regu
larly perpetuated and preserved sacred as our hereditary
right." I ask Mr. Burke, who is to take them away ? M.
de la Fayette, in speaking to France, says : " For a Nation
to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it." But Mr. Burke
represents England 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 declaration, it happens that the facts
are all against Mr. Burke. It was by the government being
hereditary, that the liberties of the people were endangered.
Charles I. and James II. are instances of this truth ; yet
neither of them went so far as to hold the Nation in contempt.
As it is sometimes of advantage to the people of one
country to hear what those of other countries have to say
respecting it, it is possible that the people of France may
learn something from Mr. Burke's book, and that the people
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, and as knowledge is the
object contended for, the party that sustains the defeat ob
tains 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 a power to operate, not only independently, but in
spite of man ; or as if it were a thing or a subject univer
sally consented to. Alas ! it has none of those properties,
but is the reverse of them all. It is a thing in imagination,
the propriety of which is more than doubted, and the legal
ity of which in a few years will be denied.
But, to arrange this matter in a clearer view than what
general expression can convey, it will be necessary to state
the distinct heads under which (what is called) an hereditary
crown, or more properly speaking, an hereditary succes
sion to the Government of a Nation, can be considered ;
which are,

364 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
First, The right of a particular Family to establish it
self. Secondly, The right of a Nation to establish a particular
Family. With respect to the first of these heads, that of a Family
establishing itself with hereditary powers on its own au
thority, 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 par
ticular Family with hereditary powers, does not present
itself as despotism on the first reflexion ; but if men will
permit a second reflexion to take place, and carry that
reflexion forward but one remove out of their own per
sons to that of their offspring, they will then see that
hereditary succession becomes in its consequences the same
despotism to others, which they reprobated for themselves.
It operates to preclude the consent of the succeeding
generations ; and the preclusion of consent is despotism.
When the person who at any time shall be in possession of
a Government, or those who stand in succession to him,
shall say to a Nation, I 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 under
takes to establish a Family with hereditary powers, apart
and separate from the generations which are to follow;
and also to consider the character in which the first genera
tion acts with respect to succeeding generations.
The generation which first selects a person, and puts him
at the head of its Government, either with the title of King,
or any other distinction, acts on its own choice, be it wise or
foolish, as a free agent for itself. The person so set up is

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 365
not hereditary, but selected and appointed ; and the gen
eration who sets him up, does not live under a hereditary
government, but under a government of its own choice
and establishment. Were the generation who sets him
up, and the person so set up, to live for ever, it never
could become hereditary succession ; and of consequence
hereditary succession can only follow on the death of the
first parties.
As, therefore, hereditary succession is out of the ques
tion with respect to the first generation, we have now
to consider the character in which that generation acts with
respect to the commencing generation, and to all succeed
ing ones.
It assumes a character, to which it has neither right nor
title. It changes itself from a Legislator to a Testator, and
effects 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 new and different form of
Government under which itself lived. Itself, as already ob
served, lived not under a 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 or
transferable, 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 disposed to be slaves, it does not lessen the
right of the succeeding generation to be free. Wrongs can
not have a legal descent. When Mr. Burke attempts to
maintain that the English nation did at the Revolution of

366 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
1688, most solemnly renounce and abdicate their rights for
themselves, and for all their posterity forever, 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, pre
sents itself, it is an absurdity. A cannot make a will to
take from B the property of B, 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 future ones, and convey those rights to a third person,
who afterwards comes forward, and tells them, in Mr. Burke's
language, that they have no rights, that their rights are al
ready bequeathed to him and that he will govern in contempt
of them. From such principles, and such ignorance, good
Lord deliver the world !
But, after all, what is this metaphor called a crown, or
rather what is monarchy ? Is it a thing, or is it a name,
or is it a fraud ? Is it a " contrivance of human wisdom,"
or of human craft to obtain money from a nation under
specious pretences ? Is it a thing necessary to a nation ?
If it is, in what does that necessity consist, what service
does it perform, what is its business, and what are its
merits ? Does the virtue 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, what is it ? It appears to be something
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 re
spect for his personal character, are the only things that
preserve the appearance of its existence.
If government be what Mr. Burke describes it, " a contriv
ance of human wisdom," I might ask him, if wisdom was at

179 x] RIGHTS OF MAN. 367
such a low ebb in England, that it was become necessary
to import it from Holland and from Hanover ? But I will
do the country the justice to say, 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 understand 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 necessary 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
insignificant in capacity, our reason cannot fail to ask us —
What are those men kept for?
If 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 country ten times as large as England, and
conducted with regularity, for a fortieth part of the expense
which Government 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 ideot ? How is it that this difference happens ?
are we more or less wise than others ? I see in America the
generality of people living in a style of plenty unknown in
monarchical countries ; and I see that the principle of its
government, which is that of the equal Rights of Man, is
making a rapid progress in the world.
If monarchy is a useless thing, why is it kept up any
where ? and if a necessary thing, how can it be dispensed
with? That civil government is necessary, all civilised
nations will agree ; but civil government is republican gov
ernment. All that part of the government of England
which begins with the office of constable, and proceeds

368 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
through the department of magistrate, quarter-sessions, and
general assize, including trial by jury, is republican govern
ment. Nothing of monarchy appears in any part of it,
except in the name which William the Conqueror imposed
upon the English, that of obliging them to call him " Their
Sovereign Lord the King."
It is easy to conceive that a band of interested men, such
as Placemen, Pensioners, Lords of the bed-chamber, Lords
of the kitchen, Lords of the necessary-house, and the Lord
knows what besides, can find as many reasons for monarchy
as their salaries, paid at the expence of the country, amount
to ; but if I ask the farmer, the manufacturer, the merchant,
the tradesman, and down through all the occupations of life
to the common laborer, what service monarchy is to him ?
he can give me no answer. If I ask him what monarchy
is,-he believes it is something like a sinecure.
Notwithstanding the taxes of England amount to almost
seventeen millions a year, said to be for the expences of
Government, it is still evident that the sense of the Nation
j is left to govern itself, and does govern itself, by magis-
j trates and juries, almost at its own charge, on republican
j principles, exclusive of the expence of taxes. The salaries
of the judges are almost the only charge that is paid out
of the revenue. Considering that all the internal govern
ment is executed by the people, the taxes of England
ought to be the lightest of any nation in Europe ; instead
of which, they are the contrary. As this cannot be accounted
for on the score of civil government, the subject necessarily
extends itself to the monarchical part.
When the people of England sent for George the First
(and it would puzzle a wiser man than Mr. Burke to discover
for what he could 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 being
King of England, there is a natural impossibility of uniting
in the same person the principles of Freedom and the prin
ciples of Despotism, or as it is usually called in England

179*] RIGHTS OF MAN. 369
Arbitrary Power. A German Elector is in his electorate
a despot ; how then could it be expected that he should be
attached to principles of liberty in one country, while his
interest in another was to be supported by despotism?
The union cannot exist ; and it might easily have been fore
seen that German Electors would make German Kings, or in
Mr. Burke's words, would assume government with " con
tempt." 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 connection
lasts, has a home-seat in another country, the interest of
which is different to their own, and the principles of the
governments in opposition to each other. To such a per
son England will appear as a town-residence, and the Elec
torate 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 fate of
despotism in his electorate ; and the Duchy of Mecklen
burgh, 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 the politics of the Nation. The Revolu
tion of France has entirely changed the ground with respect
to England and France, as nations ; but the German despots,
with Prussia at their head, are combining against liberty ;
and the fondness of Mr. Pitt for office, and the interest
which all his family connections have obtained, do not give
sufficient security against this intrigue.
As everything which passes in the world becomes matter
for history, I will now quit. this subject, and take a con
cise review of the state of parties and politics 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

37° THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
nation, it is very 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 so much. George the First and
Second were sensible of a rival in the remains of the Stu
arts ; and as they could not but consider themselves as
standing on their good behaviour, they had prudence to
keep their German principles of government to themselves ;
but as the Stuart family wore away, the prudence became less
necessary. The contest between rights, and what were called preroga
tives, continued to heat the nation till some time after the
conclusion of the American War, when all at once it fell a
calm — Execration (exchanged itself for applause, and Court
popularity sprung up like a mushroom in a night.
To account^ for this sudden transition, it is proper to ob
serve that there are two distinct species of popularity ; the
one excited by merit, and the other by resentment. As the
Nation had formed itself into two parties, and each was ex
tolling the merits of its parliamentary champions for and
against prerogative, nothing could operate to give a more
general shock than an immediate coalition of the champions
themselves.1 The partisans of each being thus suddenly
left in the lurch, and mutually heated with disgust at the
measure, felt no other relief than uniting in a common exe
cration against both. A higher stimulus of resentment
being thus excited than what the contest on prerogatives
occasioned, the nation quitted all former objects of rights
and wrongs, and sought only that of gratification. The in
dignation at the Coalition so effectually superseded the in
dignation against the Court as to extinguish it ; and without
any change of principles on the part of the Court, the same
people who had reprobated its despotism united with it to
revenge themselves on the Coalition Parliament. The case
was not, which they liked best, but which they hated most ;
and the least hated passed for love. The dissolution of the
1 Fox and Lord North, with whom Burke also had united, though he and
Fox had once proposed to impeach North. — Editor.

3;i

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN.
Coalition Parliament, as it afforded the means of gratifying
the resentment of the Nation, could not fail to be popular ;
and from hence arose the popularity of the Court.
Transitions of this kind exhibit a Nation under the gov
ernment of temper, instead of a fixed and steady principle ;
and having once committed itself, however rashly, it feels it
self urged along to justify by continuance its first proceed
ing. Measures which at other times it would censure it now
approves, and acts persuasion upon itself to suffocate its
judgment. On the return of a new Parliament, the new Minister, Mr.
Pitt, found himself in a secure majority ; and the Nation
gave him credit, not out of regard to himself, but because it
had resolved to do it out of resentment to another. He
introduced himself to public notice by a proposed Reform of
Parliament, which in its operation would have amounted to
a public justification of corruption. The Nation was to be
at the expence of buying up the rotten boroughs, whereas
it ought to punish the persons who deal in the traffic.
Passing over the two bubbles of the Dutch business and
the million a-year to sink the national debt, the matter which
most presents itself, is the affair of the Regency. Never, in
the course of my observation, was delusion more successfully
acted, nor a nation more completely deceived. But, to make
this appear, it will be necessary to go over the circumstances.
Mr. Fox had stated in the House of Commons, that the
Prince of Wales, as heir in succession, had a right in him
self to assume the Government. This was opposed by Mr.
Pitt ; and, so far as the opposition was confined to the doc
trine, it was just. But the principles which Mr. Pitt main
tained on the contrary side were as bad, or worse in their
extent, than those of Mr. Fox ; because they went to estab
lish an aristocracy over the nation, and over the small repre
sentation it has in the House of Commons.'
1 George III. having become insane (1788), Pitt held, against Fox and Burke,
that the Prince of Wales had no more right than any private individual to reign
unless chosen by the two Houses of Parliament. No doubt Paine regarded
this as virtually making over to the Peers a providential opportunity for a repre
sentative election. — Editor.

372 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
Whether the English form of Government be good or
bad, is not in this case the question ; but, taking it as it
stands, without regard to its merits or demerits, Mr. Pitt was
farther from the point than Mr. Fox.
It is supposed to consist of three parts : — while therefore
the Nation is disposed to continue this form, the parts have
a national standing, independent of each other, and are not
the creatures of each other. Had Mr. Fox passed through
Parliament, and said that the person alluded to claimed on
the ground of the Nation, Mr. Pitt must then have contended
what he called the right of the Parliament against the right
of the Nation.
By the appearance which the contest made, Mr. Fox took
the hereditary ground, and Mr. Pitt the Parliamentary
ground ; but the fact is, they both took hereditary ground,
and Mr. Pitt took the worst of the two.
What is called the Parliament is made up of two Houses,
one of which is more hereditary, and more beyond the con
troul of the Nation than what the Crown (as it is called) is
supposed to be. It is an hereditary aristocracy, assuming
and asserting indefeasible, irrevocable, rights and authority,
wholly independent of the Nation. Where, then, was the
merited popularity of exalting this hereditary power over
another hereditary power less independent of the Nation
than what itself assumed to be, and of absorbing the rights
of the Nation into a House over which it has neither election
nor controul ?
The general impulse of the Nation was right ; but it acted
without reflection. It approved the opposition made to the
right set up by Mr. Fox, without perceiving that Mr. Pitt
was supporting another indefeasible right more remote from
the Nation, in opposition to it.
With respect to the House of Commons, it is elected but
by a small part of the Nation ; but were the election as uni
versal as taxation, which it ought to be, it would still be only
the organ of the Nation, and cannot possess inherent rights.
— When the National Assembly of France resolves a mat
ter, the resolve is made in right of the Nation ; but Mr. Pitt,

I79TJ RIGHTS OF MAN. 373
on all national questions, so far as they refer to the House
of Commons, absorbs the rights of the Nation into the or
gan, and makes the organ into a Nation, and the Nation
itself into a cypher.
In a few words, the question on the Regency was a ques
tion of a million a-year, which is appropriated to the execu
tive department : and Mr. Pitt could not possess himself of
any management of this sum, without setting up the suprem
acy of Parliament ; and when this was accomplished, it was
indifferent who should be Regent, as he must be Regent
at his own cost. Among the curiosities which this conten
tious debate afforded, was that of making the Great Seal
into a King, the affixing of which to an act was to be royal
authority. If, therefore, Royal Authority is a Great Seal, it
consequently is in itself nothing ; and a good Constitution
would be of infinitely more value to the Nation than what
the three Nominal Powers, as they now stand, are worth.
The continual use of the word Constitution in the English
Parliament shews there is none ; and that the whole is merely a
form of government without a Constitution, and constituting
itself with what powers it pleases. If there were a Consti
tution, it certainly could be referred to ; and the debate on
any constitutional point would terminate by producing the
Constitution. One member says this is Constitution, and
another says that is Constitution — To-day it is one thing ;
and to-morrow something else — while the maintaining of
the debate proves there is none. Constitution is now the
cant word of Parliament, tuning itself to the ear of the
Nation. Formerly it was the universal supremacy of Parlia
ment — the omnipotence of Parliament : But since the pro
gress of Liberty in France, those phrases have a despotic
harshness in their note ; and the English Parliament have
catched the fashion from the National Assembly, but with
out the substance, of speaking of Constitution.
As the present generation of the 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

374 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
certain as that the same thing has happened in France. If
France, with a revenue of nearly twenty-four millions ster
ling, with an extent of rich and fertile country above four
times larger than England, 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 less than 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 long can the
funding system last ? It is a thing but of modern inven
tion, and has not yet continued beyond the life of a man;
yet in that short space it has so far accumulated, that, to
gether 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 expenditure. That a govern
ment could not have always 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 the
people to pay the tax, and not to the government, which
lays it on. When this disposition expires, what is supposed
to be the credit of Government expires with it. The
instance of France under the former Government shews
that it is impossible to compel the payment of taxes by
force, when a whole nation is determined to take its stand
upon that ground,
Mr. Burke, in his review of the finances of France, states
the quantity of gold and silver in France, at about eighty-

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 375
eight millions sterling. In doing this, he has, I presume,
divided by the difference of exchange, instead of the stand
ard of twenty-four livres to a pound sterling; 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 at the
Office of Trade and Plantation in England, of which Lord
Hawkesbury is president, published nearly about the same
time (1786) an account of the quantity of money in each
nation, from the returns 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. Neckar f says that the amount of money in France, re-
coined from the old coin which was called in, was two thou
sand 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 circulation 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, without referring to the records of the French
Mint for proofs. The revenue of France, prior to the Revo
lution, was nearly twenty-four millions sterling ; and as
paper had then no existence 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 M. Neckar has stated.
Before the establishment of paper in England, the revenue
was about a fourth part of the national amount of gold and
* See "Estimate of the Comparative Strength of Great Britain," by G.
Chalmers. — A uthor.
f See " Administration of the Finances of France," vol. iii., by M. Neckar.
— Author.

376 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
silver, as may be known by referring to the revenue prior
to King William, and the quantity of money stated to be in
the nation 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
itself, or to permit itself to be imposed upon ; but the preju
dices of some, and the imposition of others, have always
represented France as a nation possessing but little money
— whereas the quantity is not only more than four times
what the quantity is in England, but is considerably greater
on a proportion of numbers. To account for this deficiency
on the part of England, some reference should be had to the
English system of funding. It operates to multiply paper,
and to substitute it in the room of money, in various shapes ;
and the more paper is multiplied, the more opportunities
are offered to export the specie ; and it admits of a possi
bility (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
themselves, as to require the attention of men interested in
money transactions of a public nature. There is a circum
stance stated by M. Neckar, in his treatise on the adminis
tration of the finances, which has never been attended to in
England, but which forms the only basis whereon to esti
mate the quantity of money (gold and silver) which ought
to be in every nation in Europe, to preserve a relative pro
portion with other nations.
Lisbon and Cadiz are the two ports into which (money)
gold and silver from South America are imported, and which
afterwards divide and spread themselves over Europe by
means of commerce, and increase 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 pro
portion of the foreign commerce of the several nations by
which it can be distributed 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.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 377
M. Neckar shews from the registers of Lisbon and Cadiz,
that the importation of gold and silver into Europe, is five
millions sterling annually. He has not taken it on a single
year, but on an average of fifteen succeeding years, from
1763 to 1777, both inclusive; in which time, the amount
was one thousand eight hundred million livres, which is
seventy-five millions sterling.*
From the commencement of the Hanover succession in
1714 to the time Mr. Chalmers published, is seventy-two
years ; and the quantity imported into Europe, in that time,
would be three hundred and sixty millions sterling.
If the foreign commerce of Great Britain be stated at a
sixth part of what the whole foreign commerce of Europe
amounts to (which is probably an inferior estimation to
what the gentlemen at the Exchange would allow) the pro
portion which Britain should draw by commerce of this
sum, to keep herself on a proportion with the rest of Eu
rope, would be also a sixth part which is sixty millions
sterling ; and if the same allowance for waste and accident
be made for England which M. Neckar makes for France,
the quantity remaining after these deductions 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 commencement 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
proportionate quantity.
As the quantity of gold and silver imported into Lisbon
and Cadiz is more exactly ascertained than that of any com
modity imported into England, and as the quantity of
money coined at the Tower of London is still more posi
tively known, the leading facts do not admit of controversy.
Either, therefore, the commerce of England is unproductive
of profit, or the gold and silver which it brings in leak continu
ally away by unseen means at the average rate of about
three-quarters of a million a year, which, in the course of
* " Administration of the Finances of France," vol. iii. — Author.

378 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
seventy-two years, accounts for the deficiency ; and its ab
sence is supplied by paper.*
* Whether the English commerce does not bring in money, or whether the
government sends it out after it is brought in, is a matter which the parties
concerned can best explain ; but that the deficiency exists, is not in the power
of either to disprove. While Dr. Price, Mr. Eden, (now Auckland,) Mr. Chal
mers, and others, were debating whether the quantity of money in England was
greater or less than at the Revolution, the circumstance was not adverted to,
that since the Revolution, there cannot have been less than four hundred mil
lions sterling imported into Europe ; and therefore the quantity in England
ought at least to have been four times greater than it was at the Revolution,
to be on a proportion with Europe. What England is now doing by paper, is
what she would 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 countries. Taking the value
half in gold and half in silver, it is about four hundred tons annually ; and
from the number of ships and galloons employed in the trade of bringing
those metals from South-America to Portugal and Spain, the quantity suffi
ciently 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 he
j carried on by gold and silver. By the politics which the British Government
(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 rumours have been
set afloat in England to induce a belief in 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 flee
ing on horse-back 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 expences ?
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 procession
of time. The most frugal system that England could now adopt, would not
recover in a century the balance she has lost in money since the commence
ment 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 shew an increase of money,
while the registers of Lisbon and Cadiz shew an European increase of between
three and four hundred millions sterling. — Author.

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 379
The Revolution of France is attended with many novel
circumstances, not only in the political sphere, but in the
circle of money transactions. Among others, it shows that '
a government may be in a state of insolvency and a nation
rich. So far as the fact is confined to the late Government
of France, it was insolvent ; because the nation would no
longer support its extravagance, and therefore it could no
longer support itself — but with respect to the nation all the
means existed. A government may be said to be insolvent
every time it applies to the nation to discharge its arrears.
The insolvency of the late Government of France and the
present Government of England differed in no other respect
than as the dispositions 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; the last of which, publicly known, was in May,
1777, when it applied to the nation to discharge up
wards 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 nation, in effect, endeavoured to render the late
Government insolvent for the purpose of taking government
into its own hands : and it reserved its means for the sup
port of the new Government. 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 Parliament, " 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 filled
up with a Constitution more formidable in resources than
the power which had expired.

380 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
Although the French Nation rendered the late Govern
ment insolvent, it did not permit the insolvency to act
towards the creditors ; and the creditors, considering the
Nation as the real pay-master, and the Government only as
the agent, rested themselves on the nation, in preference to
the Government. This appears greatly to disturb Mr.
Burke, as the precedent is fatal to the policy by which gov
ernments have supposed themselves secure. They have
contracted debts, with a view of attaching what is called the
monied interest of a Nation to their support ; but the ex
ample in France shews that the permanent security of the
creditor is in the Nation, and not in the Government ; and
that in all possible revolutions that may happen in Govern
ments, the means are always with the Nation, and the Nation
always 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, and not of the Government
—of the master, and not of the steward.
Notwithstanding the late government could not discharge
the current expenses, the present government has paid off
a great part of the capital. This has been accomplished by
two means ; the one by lessening the expenses of govern
ment, and the other by the sale of the monastic and ecclesi
astical landed estates. The devotees and penitent de
bauchees, extortioners and misers of former days, to ensure
themselves a better world than that they were about to
leave, had bequeathed immense property in trust to the
priesthood for pious uses ; and the priesthood kept it 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 capital ; which, with lessening the former expenses of
government at least three millions, will place France in a
situation worthy the imitation of Europe.

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 381
Upon a whole review of the subject, how vast is the con
trast ! While Mr. Burke has been talking of a general bank
ruptcy in France, the National Assembly has been paying
off the capital of its debt ; and while taxes have increased
near a million a year in England, they have lowered
several millions a year in France. Not a word has either
Mr. Burke or Mr. Pitt said about the French affairs, or the
state of the French finances, in the present Session of Par
liament. 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
Assembly ; but what is he enraged about ? If his assertions
were as true as they are groundless, and that France by her
Revolution, had annihilated her power, and become what he
calls a chasm, it might excite the grief of a Frenchman (con
sidering himself 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, and a friend to none — a courtier.
Whether it be the Court of Versailles, or the Court of St.
James, or Carlton-House, or the Court in expectation, signi
fies not ; for the caterpillar principle of all Courts and
Courtiers are alike. They form a common policy throughout
Europe, detached and separate from the interest of Nations :
and while they appear to quarrel, they agree to plunder.
Nothing can be more terrible to a Court or Courtier than the
Revolution of France. That which is a blessing to Nations
is bitterness to them : and as their existence depends on the
duplicity of a country, they tremble at the approach of prin
ciples, and dread the precedent that threatens their over
throw.

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 Government goes easily on. Reason obeys
itself ; and Ignorance submits to whatever is dictated to it.
The two modes of the Government which prevail in the
world, ^xt, first, Government by election and representation :
Secondly, Government by hereditary succession. The former
is generally known by the name of republic ; the latter by
that of monarchy and aristocracy.
Those two distinct and opposite forms, erect themselves on
the two distinct and opposite bases of Reason and Igno
rance. — As the exercise of Government requires talents and
abilities, and as talents and abilities cannot have 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
the more ignorant any country is, the better it is fitted for
this species of Government.
On the contrary, Government, in a well-constituted repub
lic, requires no belief from man beyond what his reason can
give. He sees the rationale of the whole system, its origin
and its operation ; and as it is best supported when best
understood, the human faculties act with boldness, and
acquire, under this form of government, a gigantic manli
ness. As, therefore, each of those forms acts on a different base,
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
382

I791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 383
Government, or, as it is sometimes ludicrously stiled, a
Government of this, that and t'other.
The moving power in this species of Government, is of
necessity, Corruption. However imperfect election and rep
resentation may be in mixed Governments, they still give
exercise to a 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 N
everything, 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 calls " A British
Constitution "; and the regretful manner in which he
expresses himself on this occasion implies a suspicion that
the British Constitution 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 ideots 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 command ; and that
majority justifies itself by the same authority with which it
protects the Minister. In this rotatory motion, responsi-^
bility 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 the mixed Govern
ments, is the Cabinet ; and as the Cabinet is always a part
of the Parliament, and the members justifying in one char
acter what they advise and act in another, a mixed Govern
ment becomes a continual enigma ; entailing upon a country
by the quantity of corruption necessary to solder the parts,

384 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
the expence 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 re
sponsible, are the same persons.
By this -pantomimical contrivance, and change of scene
and character, the parts help each other out in matters
which neither of them singly would assume to act. When
money is to be obtained, the mass of variety apparently dis
solves, and a profusion of parliamentary praises passes be
tween the parts. Each admires with astonishment, the
wisdom, the liberality, the disinterestedness of the other:
and all of them breathe a pitying sigh at the burthens of
the Nation.
But in a well-constituted republic, nothing of this solder
ing, praising, and pitying, can take place ; the representa
tion being equal throughout the country, and compleat in
itself, however it may be arranged into legislative and exec
utive, they have all one and the same natural source. The
parts are not foreigners to each other, like democracy, aris
tocracy, and monarchy. As there are no discordant dis
tinctions, there is nothing to corrupt by compromise, nor
confound by contrivance. Public measures appeal of them
selves to the understanding of the Nation, and, resting on
their own merits, disown any flattering applications to van
ity. 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 advan
tageous ; but 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 the distinct and 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 or more distinct and separate
elements of human power, we should then see the several

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 385
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 element 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
symptoms that have appeared in other countries, it is evi
dent that the opinion of the world is changing with respect
to systems of Government, and that revolutions are not
within the compass of political calculations. The progress
of time and circumstances, which men assign to the ac
complishment of great changes, is too mechanical to meas
ure the force of the mind, and the rapidity 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
now. When we survey the wretched condition of man, under
the monarchical and hereditary systems of Government,
dragged from his home by one power, or driven by another,
and impoverished by taxes more than by enemies, it becomes
evident that those systems are bad, and that a general revo
lution 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 property of any particular man or family, but of the
whole community, at whose expence it is supported ; and
though by force and 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 indefeasible right to abolish any form of
Government it finds inconvenient, and to establish such as
accords with its interest, disposition and happiness. The

386 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
romantic and barbarous distinction 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 acknowl-
edge 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 estab
lished 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 center, 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 knew 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 circum
stances. 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 as truth and the existence
of man, and combining moral with political happiness and
national prosperity.
" I. Men are born, and always continue, free and equal in
respect of 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, andresistance of oppression.
"III. The nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty ;
nor can any INDIVIDUAL, or ANV BODY OF MEN, be entitled
to any authority which is not expressly derived from it!'

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 387
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 aggrandise
ment of particular descriptions of men or families. Monarchi
cal sovereignty, the enemy of mankind, and the source of
misery, is abolished ; and the 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. It is attributed to Henry the Fourth of France, a man of
enlarged and benevolent heart, that he proposed, about the
year 1610, a plan for abolishing war in Europe. The plan
consisted in constituting an EuropeanJ^angress, or as the
French authors stile 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 be
tween nation and nation.
Had such a plan been adopted at the time it was pro
posed, 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 Revolution.
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 fruit
less expence 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 Government. Every war termi
nates with an addition of taxes, and consequently with an
addition of revenue ; and in any event of war, in the manner
they are now commenced and concluded, the power and in
terest of Governments are increased. War, therefore, from
its productiveness, as it easily furnishes the pretence of ne
cessity for taxes and appointments to places and offices,
becomes a principal part of the system of old Governments ;

3&8 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1791
and to establish any mode to abolish war, however advanta
geous it might be to Nations, would be to take from such
Government the most lucrative of its branches. The frivo
lous matters upon which war is made, shew the disposition
and avidity of Governments to uphold the system of war,
and betray the motives upon which they act.
Why are not Republics plunged into war, but because the
nature of their Government does not admit of an interest
distinct 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 form of Government was changed in France,
the republican principles of peace and domestic prosperity
and ceconomy arose with the new Government ; and the same
consequences would follow the cause in other Nations.
As war is the system of Government on the old construc
tion, the animosity which Nations reciprocally entertain, is
nothing more than what the policy of their Governments
excites to keep up the spirit of the system. Each Govern
ment accuses the 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 principle of such Governments ; and instead of
seeking to reform the individual, the wisdom of a Nation
should apply itself to reform the system.
Whether the forms and maxims of Governments which
are still in practice, were adapted to the condition of the
world at the period they were established, is not in this case
the question. The older they are, the less correspondence
can they have with the present state of things. Time, and
change of circumstances and opinions, have the same pro
gressive effect in rendering modes of Government obsolete
as they have upon customs and manners. — Agriculture, com
merce, manufactures, and the tranquil arts, by which the
prosperity of Nations is best promoted, require a different

1791] RIGHTS OF MAN. 389
system of Government, and a different species of knowledge
to direct its operations, than what might have been required
in the former condition of the world.
As it is not difficult to perceive, from the enlightened
state of mankind, that hereditary Governments are verging
to their decline, and that 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 political
world ought to be held improbable. It is an age of Revolu
tions, in which everything may be looked for. The intrigue
of Courts, by which the system of war is kept up, may pro
voke a confederation of Nations to abolish it : and an Euro
pean Congress to patronise the progress of free Government,
and promote the civilisation of Nations with each other, is
an event nearer in probability, than once were the revolu
tions arid alliance of France and America.

XIV.
RIGHTS OF MAN.
PART SECOND, COMBINING PRINCIPLE AND PRACTICE.
BY THOMAS PAINE.
FRENCH TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
{'79*-)
The work of which we offer a translation to the public
has created the greatest sensation in England. Paine, that
man of freedom, who seems born to preach " Common
Sense " to the whole world with the same success as in
America, explains in it to the people of England the theory
of the practice of the Rights of Man.
Owing to the prejudices that still govern that nation, the
author has been obliged to condescend to answer Mr.
Burke. He has done so more especially in an extended
preface which is nothing but a piece of very tedious contro
versy, in which he shows himself very sensitive to criticisms
that do not really affect him. To translate it seemed an
insult to the free French people, and similar reasons have led
the editors to suppress also a dedicatory epistle addressed
by Paine to Lafayette.
The French can no longer endure dedicatory epistles.
A man should write privately to those he esteems : when he
publishes a book his thoughts should be offered to the
39°

1792]

RIGHTS OF MAN.

391

public alone. Paine, that uncorrupted friend of freedom,
believed too in the sincerity of Lafayette. So easy is it to
deceive men of single-minded purpose ! Bred at a distance
from courts, that austere American does not seem any more
on his guard against the artful ways and speech of courtiers
than some Frenchmen who resemble him.

TO
M. DE LA FAYETTE.
AFTER an acquaintance of nearly fifteen years in difficult
situations in America, and various consultations in Europe,
I feel a pleasure in presenting to you this small treatise, in
gratitude for your services to my beloved America, and as a
testimony of my esteem for the virtues, public and private,
which I know you too possess.
The only point upon which I could ever discover that we
differed was not as to principles of government, but as to
time. For my own part I think it equally as injurious to
good principles to -permit them to linger, as to push them on
too fast. That which you suppose accomplishable in four
teen or fifteen years, I may believe practicable in a much
shorter period. Mankind, as it appears to me, are always
ripe enough to understand their true interest, provided it be
presented clearly to their understanding, and that in a
manner not to create suspicion by anything like self-design,
nor offend by assuming too much. Where we would wish to
reform we must not reproach.
When the American revolution was established I felt a
disposition to sit serenely down and enjoy the calm. It did
not appear to me that any object could afterwards arise
great enough to make me quit tranquility and feel as I had
felt before. But when principle, and not place, is the ener
getic 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 have resolved to labour as fast as I can ;
392

1792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 393
and as I am anxious for your aid and your company, 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 campaign commence, I hope it will
terminate in the extinction of German despotism, and in
establishing the freedom of all Germany. When France
shall be surrounded 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.
London, Feb. 9, 1792.

PREFACE.
When 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 wish to
add, I found that it must either make the work too bulky,
or contract my plan too much. I therefore brought it to a
close as soon as the subject would admit, and reserved what
I had further to say to another opportunity.
Several other reasons contributed to produce this deter
mination. I wished to know the manner in which a work,
written in a style of thinking and expression different to
what had been customary in England, would be received
before I proceeded farther. A great field was opening to
the view of mankind by means of the French Revolution.
Mr. Burke's outrageous opposition thereto brought the con
troversy into England. He attacked principles which he
knew (from information) 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 de
fend. Had he not urged the controversy, I had most proba
bly been a silent man.
Another reason for deferring 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 compari
son of what he called the English and French Constitutions.
I therefore held myself in reserve for him. He has pub
lished two works since, without doing this : which he cer
tainly would not have omitted, had the comparison been in
his favour.
In his last work, his " Appeal from the New to the Old
394

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 395
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 acquainted with Mr. Burke to know that he would
if he could. But instead of contesting them, he immedi
ately after consoles himself with saying that " he has done
his part." — He has not done his part. He has not performed
his promise of a comparison of constitutions. He started the
controversy, he gave the challenge, and has fled from it ; and
he is now a case in point with his own opinion that " the age
of chivalry is gone ! "
The title, as well as the substance of his last work, his
" Appeal" is his condemnation. Principles must stand 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 honours, but in
this case he is artfully dividing the disgrace.
But who are those to whom Mr. Burke has made his ap
peal ? A set of childish thinkers, and half-way politicians
born in the last century, men who went no farther with any
principle than as it suited their purposes as a party ; the
nation was always left out of the question ; and this has been
the character of every party from that day to this. The na
tion sees nothing in such works, or such politics, worthy 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 much notice of, there is, however, one expression
upon which I shall offer a few remarks. After quoting
largely from the Rights of Man, and declining to contest
the principles contained in that work, he says : " This will
most probably be done {if 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." '
1 In his " Appeal " Burke wrote of himself in the third person.— Editor.

396 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
In the first place, it has not yet 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 published by different persons, and not one of them to
my knowledge, 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 I 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 would decline unnecessary publications on the one
hand, so would I avoid everything that might appear 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 to a fourth part
of the number of copies to which the RIGHTS OF Man ex
tended, 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 flatterer) 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
V 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 quo
tation I have made from Mr. Burke.
" If," says he, " such writing shall be thought to deserve
any other refutation than that of criminal 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,

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 397
and I since find they are falling into my opinion, which I
will here state as fully, but as concisely as I 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 investiga
ting the principles, good or bad, on which such a 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 shew 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 shew 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 violation, of those which are good.
The case is the same with respect to principles and forms
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 aggrandisement of particular individuals, that govern
ment ought to be established, and that mankind are at the
expence of supporting it. The defects of every government
and constitution, both as to principle and form, must, on a
parity of reasoning, 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 generally seen by a nation, that nation
will reform its government 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 reforming, generating or regen
erating constitutions and governments belong ; and conse
quently those subjects, as subjects of investigation, are

398 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
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 please. It is better that the whole
argument should come out than to seek to stifle it. It was
himself that opened the controversy, and he ought not to
desert it.
I do not believe that monarchy and aristocracy will con
tinue seven years longer in any of the enlightened countries
in Europe. If better reasons can be shewn for them than
against them, they will stand ; if the contrary, they will not.
Mankind are not now to be told they shall not think, or they
shall not read ; and publications that go no farther than to
investigate principles of government, to invite men to reason
and to reflect, and to shew the errors and excellences of
different systems, have a right to appear. If they do not
excite attention, they are not worth the trouble of a prose
cution ; and if they do, the prosecution will amount to noth
ing, 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 it resting on their opinion ; and where there is nothing to
be known in a court, but what every body knows out of it,
every twelve men is 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 determining whether that nation
have a right to, or shall reform its government or not.
I mention those cases that Mr. Burke may see I have not
written on Government without reflecting on what is Law,

I792] ' RIGHTS OF MAN. 399
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. If Mr. Burke will propose such a jury, I
will wave all privileges of being the citizen of another country,
and, defending its principles, abide the issue, provided he
will do the same ; for my opinion is, that his work and his
principles would be condemned instead of mine.
As to the prejudices which men have from education and
habit, in favour of any particular form or system of govern
ment, those prejudices have yet to stand the test of reason
and reflection. In fact, such prejudices are nothing. No
man is prejudiced in favour of a thing, knowing it to be
wrong. He is attached 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 defective 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 reflection. I offer this remark,
that Mr. Burke may not confide too much in what have
been the customary prejudices of the country.
I do not believe that the people of England have ever
been fairly and candidly dealt by. They have been im
posed upon by parties, and by men assuming the character
of leaders. It is time that the nation should rise above those
trifles. It is time to dismiss that inattention which has so
long been the encouraging cause of stretching taxation to
excess. It is time to dismiss all those songs and toasts
which are calculated to enslave, and operate to suffocate re
flection. On all such subjects men have but to think, and
they will neither act wrong nor be misled. To say that any
people are not fit for freedom, is to make poverty their
choice, and to say they had rather be loaded with taxes
than not. If such a case could be proved, it would equally
prove, that those who govern are not fit to govern them, for
they are a part of the same national mass.
But admitting governments to be changed all over Europe ;
it certainly may be done without convulsion or revenge. It

400

THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE.

[1792

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 reflecti on I close my
Preface.
Thomas Paine.
London, Feb. 9, 1792.

RIGHTS OF MAN.
PART II.
INTRODUCTION.
What 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 of America presented in politics what was
only theory in mechanics. So deeply rooted were all the
governments 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 irresistible nature of truth, that all it
asks, — and all it wants, — is the liberty of appearing.
The sun needs no inscription to distinguish him from dark
ness ; 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
separation from England, would have been a matter but of
little importance, had it not been accompanied by a revolu
tion in the principles and practice of governments. She
made a stand, not for herself only, but for the world, and
looked beyond the advantages herself could receive. Even
the Hessian, though hired to fight against her, may live to
VOL. II. — 26 4OI

402 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
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 principle of universal reformation could begin, so also
was it the best in the natural world. An assemblage of cir
cumstances conspired, not only to give birth, but to add
gigantic maturity to its principles. The scene which that
country presents to the eye of a spectator, has something
in it which generates and encourages great ideas. Nature
appears to him in magnitude. The mighty objects he be
holds, act upon his mind by enlarging it, and he partakes
of the greatness he contemplates. — Its first settlers were emi
grants from different European nations, and of diversified
professions of religion, retiring from the governmental per
secutions of the old world, and meeting in the new, not as
enemies, but as brothers.1 The wants which necessarily ac
company the cultivation of a wilderness produced among
them a state of society, which countries long harassed by
the quarrels and intrigues of governments, had neglected to
cherish. In such a situation man becomes what he ought.
He sees his species, not with the inhuman idea of a natural
enemy, but as kindred ; and the example shews to the arti
ficial world, that man must go back to Nature for infor
mation. From the rapid progress which America makes in every
species of improvement, it is rational to conclude that, if
the governments of Asia, Africa, and Europe had begun on
a principle similar to that of America, or had not been very
early corrupted therefrom, those countries must by this time
have been in a far superior condition to what they are. Age
after age has passed away, for no other purpose than to be
hold their wretchedness. Could we suppose a spectator who
knew nothing of the world, and who was put into it merely
to make his observations, he would take a great part of the
old world to be new, just struggling with the difficulties and
hardships of an infant settlement. He could not suppose
1 American colonial history, as explored since Paine's time, mars this rosy
picture . — Editor.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 403
that the hordes of miserable poor with which old countries
abound could be any other than those who had not yet had
time to provide for themselves. Little would he think they
were the consequence of what in such countries they call
government. If, from the more wretched parts of the old world, we
look at those which are in an advanced stage of improve
ment we still find the greedy hand of government thrusting
itself into every corner and crevice of industry, and grasping
the spoil of the multitude. Invention is continually exer
cised to furnish new pretences for revenue and taxation. It
watches prosperity as its prey, and permits none to escape
without a tribute.
As revolutions have begun, (and as the probability is al
ways greater against a thing beginning, than of proceeding
after it has begun) it is natural to expect that other revolu
tions will follow. The amazing and still increasing expences
with which old governments are conducted, the numerous
wars they engage in or provoke, the embarrassments they
throw in the way of universal civilization and commerce,
and the oppression and usurpation acted at home, have
wearied out the patience, and exhausted the property of the
world. In such a situation, and with such examples already
existing, revolutions are to be looked for. They are become
subjects of universal conversation, and may be considered
as the Order of the day.
If systems of government can be introduced less expen
sive and more productive of general happiness than those
which have existed, all attempts to oppose their progress
will in the end be fruitless. Reason, like time, will make its
own way, and prejudice will fall in a combat with interest.
If universal peace, civilisation, and commerce are ever to be
the happy lot of man, it cannot be accomplished but by a
revolution in the system of governments. All the monarchi
cal governments are military. War is their trade, plunder
and revenue their objects. While such governments con
tinue, peace has not the absolute security of a day. What is
the history of all monarchical governments but a disgustful

404 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
picture of human wretchedness, and the accidental respite
of a few years' repose ? Wearied with war, and tired with
human butchery, they sat down to rest, and called it peace.
This certainly is not the condition that heaven intended for
man ; and if this be monarchy, well might monarchy be reck
oned among the sins of the Jews.
The revolutions which formerly took place in the world
had nothing in them that interested the bulk of mankind.
They extended only to a change of persons and measures,
but not of principles, and rose or fell among the common
transactions of the moment. What we now behold may not
improperly be called a " counter revolution." Conquest and
tyranny, at some earlier period, dispossessed man of his
rights, and he is now recovering them. And as the tide of
all human affairs has its ebb and flow in directions contrary
to each other, so also is it in this. Government founded on
a moral theory, on a system of universal peace, on the indefeasi
ble hereditary Rights of Man, is now revolving from west to
east by a stronger impulse than the government of the sword
revolved from east to west. It interests not particular indi
viduals, but nations in its progress, and promises a new era
to the human race.
The danger to which the success of revolutions is most ex
posed is that of attempting them before the principles on
which they proceed, and the advantages to result from them,
are sufficiently seen and understood. Almost everything
appertaining to the circumstances of a nation, has been ab
sorbed and confounded under the general and mysterious
word government. Though it avoids taking to its account
the errors it commits, and the mischiefs it occasions, it fails
not to arrogate to itself whatever has the appearance of pros
perity. It robs industry of its honours, by pedanticly mak
ing itself the cause of its effects ; and purloins from the gen
eral character of man, the merits that appertain to him as a
social being.
It may therefore be of use in this day of revolutions to
discriminate between those things which are the effect of
government, and those which are not. This will best be

1792]

RIGHTS OF MAN.

405

done by taking a review of society and civilisation, and the
consequences resulting therefrom, as things distinct from
what are called governments. By beginning with this in
vestigation, we shall be able to assign effects to their proper
causes and analize the mass of common errors.

CHAPTER I.
OF SOCIETY AND CIVILISATION.
Great part of that order which reigns among mankind is
not the effect of government. It has its origin in the prin
ciples of society and the natural constitution of man. It
existed prior to government, and would exist if the for-
(mality of government was abolished. The mutual depend
ence and reciprocal interest which man has upon man, and
all the parts of civilised community upon each other, create
that great chain of connection which holds it together.
The landholder, the farmer, the manufacturer, the mer-
i chant, the tradesman, and every occupation, prospers by
ithe aid which each receives from the other, and from the
jwhole. Common interest regulates their concerns, and
Iforms their law ; and the laws which common usage ordains,
have a greater influence than the laws of government. In
fine society performs for itself almost everything which is
ascribed to government.
To understand the nature and quantity of government
proper for man, it is necessary to attend to his character.
As Nature created him for social life, she fitted him for the
station she intended. In all cases she made his natural
wants greater than his individual powers. No one man is
capable, without the aid of society, of supplying his own
wants ; and those wants, acting upon every individual, impel
the whole of them into society, as naturally as gravitation
acts to a centre.
But she has gone further. She has not only forced man into
society by a diversity of wants which the reciprocal aid of
each other can supply, but she has implanted in him a
system of social affections, which, though not necessary to
406

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 407
his existence, are essential to his happiness. There is no
period in life when this love for society ceases to act. It
begins and ends with our being.
If we examine with attention into the composition and
constitution of man, the diversity of his wants, and the
diversity of talents in different men for reciprocally accom
modating the wants of each other, his propensity to society,
and consequently to preserve the advantages resulting from
it, we shall easily discover, that a great part of what is called
government is mere imposition.
Government is no farther necessary than to supply the
few cases to which society and civilisation are not con
veniently competent ; and instances are not wanting to
show, that everything which government can usefully add
thereto, has been performed by the common consent of
society, without government.
For upwards of two years from the commencement of the
American War, and to a longer period in several of the
American States, there were no established forms of
government. The old governments had been abolished,
and the country was too much occupied in defence to
employ its attention in establishing new governments ; yet
during this interval order and harmony were preserved as
inviolate as in any country in Europe.1 There is a natural
aptness in man, and more so in society, because it embraces
a greater variety of abilities and resource, to accommodate
itself to whatever situation it is in. The instant formal
government is abolished, society begins to act : a general
association takes place, and common interest produces com
mon security.
So far is it from being true, as has been pretended, that
the abolition of any formal government is the dissolution
of society, that it acts by a contrary impulse, and brings the
latter the closer together. All that part of its organisation
which it had committed to its government, devolves again
1 But a custom of "lynching" loyalists ("tories"), rebuked by Paine,
arose, and some parts of America have never recovered from that cowardly kind
of lawlessness. — Editor.

408 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
upon itself, and acts through its medium. When men, as
well from natural instinct as from reciprocal benefits, have
habituated themselves to social and civilised life, there is
always enough of its principles in practice to carry them
through any changes they may find necessary or convenient
to make in their government. In short, man is so naturally
a creature of society that it is almost impossible to put him
out of it.
Formal government makes but a small part of civilised
life ; and when even the best that human wisdom can devise
is established, it is a thing more in name and idea than
in fact. It is to the great and fundamental principles of
society and civilisation — to the common usage universally
consented to, and mutually and reciprocally maintained — to
the unceasing circulation of interest, which, passing through
its million~channeTs, invigorates the whole mass of civilised
man — it is to these things, infinitely more than to anything
which even the best instituted government can perform, that
the safety and prosperity of the individual and of the
whole depends.
The more perfect civilisation is, the less occasion has it
for government, because the more does it regulate its own
affairs, and govern itself ; but so contrary is the practice of
old governments to the reason of the case, that the expences
of them increase in the proportion they ought to diminish.
It is but few general laws that civilised life requires, and
those of such common usefulness, that whether they are
enforced by the forms of government or not, the effect will
be nearly the same. If we consider what the principles are
that first condense men into society, and what are the mo
tives that regulate their mutual intercourse afterwards, we
shall find, by the time we arrive at what is called govern
ment, that nearly the whole of the business is performed
by the natural operation of the parts upon each other.
Man, with respect to all those matters, is more a creature
of consistency than he is aware, or than governments would
wish him to believe. All the great laws of society are
laws "of nature. Those of trade and commerce, whether

I792l RIGHTS OF MAN. 4O9
with respect to the intercourse of individuals or of nations,
are laws of mutual and reciprocal interest. They are fol
lowed and obeyed, because it is the interest of the par
ties so to do, and not on account of any formal laws their
governments may impose or interpose.
But how often is the natural propensity to society dis
turbed or destroyed by the operations of government !
When the latter, instead of being ingrafted on the principles
of the former, assumes to exist for itself, and acts by partial
ities of favour and oppression, it becomes the cause of the
mischiefs it ought to prevent.
If we look back to the riots and tumults which at various
times have happened in England, we shall find that they
did not proceed from the want of a government, but that
government was itself the generating cause ; instead of con
solidating society it divided it ; it deprived it of its natural
cohesion, and engendered discontents and disorders which
otherwise would not have existed. In those associations
which men promiscuously form for the purpose of trade, or
of any concern in which government is totally out of the
question, and in which they act merely on the principles of
society, we see how naturally the various parties unite ; and \
this shews, by comparison, that governments, so far from being S
always the cause or means of order, are often the destruc- 1
tion of it. The riots of 1780 had no other source than the
remains of those prejudices which the government itself had
encouraged. But with respect to England there are also
other causes.
Excess and inequality of taxation, however disguised in!
the means, never fail to appear in their effects. As a
great mass of the community are thrown thereby into
poverty and discontent, they are constantly on the brink of
commotion ; and deprived, as they unfortunately are, of the
means of information, are easily heated to outrage. What
ever the apparent cause of any riots may be, the real one'
is always want of happiness. It shews that something is
wrong in the system of government that injures the felicity
by which society is to be preserved.

410 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
But as fact is superior to reasoning, the instance of
America presents itself to confirm these observations. If
there is a country in the world where concord, according to
common calculation, would be least expected, it is America.
Made up as it is of people from different nations,* accus
tomed to different forms and habits of government, speak
ing different languages, and more different in their modes
of worship, it would appear that the union of such a
people was impracticable ; but by the simple operation of
constructing government on the principles of society and
the rights of man, every difficulty retires, and all the
parts are brought into cordial unison. There the poor are
not oppressed, the rich are not privileged. Industry is not
mortified by the splendid extravagance of a court rioting at
its expence. Their taxes are few, because their government
is just : and as there is nothing to render them wretched,
there is nothing to engender riots and tumults.
A metaphysical man, like Mr. Burke, would have tortured
his invention to discover how such a people could be gov
erned. He would have supposed that some must be man
aged by fraud, others by force, and all by some contrivance;
that genius must be hired to impose upon ignorance, and
shew and parade to fascinate the vulgar. Lost in the abun
dance of his researches, he would have resolved and re-re
solved, and finally overlooked the plain and easy road that
lay directly before him.
One of the great advantages of the American Revolution
has been, that it led to a discovery of the principles, and
* That part of America which is generally called New-England, including
New-Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode-Island, and Connecticut, is peopled
chiefly by English descendants. In the state of New- York about half are Dutch,
the rest English, Scotch, and Irish. In New-Jersey, a mixture of English and
Dutch, with some Scotch and Irish. In Pennsylvania about one third are Eng
lish, another Germans, and the remainder Scotch and Irish, with some Swedes.
The States to the southward have a greater proportion of English than the
middle States, but in all of them there is a mixture ; and besides those enum
erated, there are a considerable number of French, and some few of all the
European nations, lying on the coast. The most numerous religious denomi
nation are the Presbyterians ; but no one sect is established above another, and
all men are equally citizens. — Author.

4ii

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.
laid open the imposition, of governments. All the revolu
tions till then had been worked. within the atmosphere of a
court, and never on the great floor of a nation. T^hepar-
ties_were_alwaysofjhe^lass_of courtiers ; and whatever was"
their rage for reformation, they carefully preserved the fraud
of the profession.
In all cases they took care to represent government as a
thing made up of mysteries, which only themselves under
stood ; and they hid from the understanding of the nation the
only thing that was beneficial to know, namely, That govern
ment is nothing more than a national association acting on the
principles of society.
Having thus endeavored to show that the social and civil
ised state of man is capable of performing within itself
almost everything necessary to its protection and govern
ment, it will be proper, on the other hand, to take a review
of the present old governments, and examine whether their
principles and practice are correspondent thereto.

CHAPTER II.
OF THE ORIGIN OF THE PRESENT OLD GOVERNMENTS.
It is impossible that such governments as have hitherto
existed in the world, could have commenced by any other
means than a total violation of every principle sacred and
moral. The obscurity in which the origin of all the present
old governments is buried, implies the iniquity and disgrace
with which they began. The origin of the present govern
ment of America and France will ever be remembered,
because it is honourable to record it ; but with respect to the"
rest, even Flattery has consigned them to the tomb of-tlme,
without an inscription.
It could have been no difficult thing in the early and soli
tary ages of the world, while the chief employment of men
was that of attending flocks and herds, for a banditti of
ruffians to overrun a country, and lay it under contributions.
Their power being thus established, the chief of the band

412 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
contrived to lose the name of Robber in that of Monarch ;
and hence the origin of Monarchy and Kings.
The origin of the Government of England, so far as relates
to what is called its line of monarchy, being one of the
latest, is perhaps the best recorded. The hatred which the
Norman invasion and tyranny begat, must have been deeply
rooted in the nation, to have outlived the contrivance to-
obliterate it. Though not a courtier will talk of the curfeu-
bell, not a village in England has forgotten it.
Those bands of robbers having parcelled out the world,
and divided it into dominions, began, as is naturally the case,
to quarrel with each other. What at first was obtained by
violence was considered by others as lawful to be taken, and
a second plunderer succeeded the first. They alternately in
vaded the dominions which each had assigned to himself, and
the brutality with which they treated each other explains
the original character of monarchy. It was ruffian torturing
ruffian. The conqueror considered the conquered, not as his
prisoner, but his property. He led him in triumph rattling
in chains, and doomed him, at pleasure, to slavery or death.
As time obliterated the history of their beginning, their suc
cessors assumed new appearances, to cut off the entail of
their disgrace, but their principles and objects remained the
same. What at first was plunder, assumed the softer name
of revenue ; and the power originally usurped, they affected
to inherit.
From such beginning of governments, what could be ex
pected but a continued system of war and extortion ? It
has established itself into a trade. The vice is not peculiar
to one more than to another, but is the common principle of
all. There does not exist within such governments sufficient
stamina whereon to engraft reformation ; and the shortest
and most effectual remedy is to begin anew on the ground
of the nation.
What scenes of horror, what perfection of iniquity, pre
sent themselves in contemplating the character and review
ing the history of such governments ! If we would delineate
human nature with a baseness of heart and hypocrisy of

1792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 413
countenance that reflexion would shudder at and humanity
disown, it is kings, courts and cabinets that must sit for the
portrait. Man, naturally as he is, with all his faults about
him, is not up to the character.
Can we possibly suppose that if governments had origi
nated in a right principle, and had not an interest in pursu
ing a wrong one, the world could have been in the wretched
and quarrelsome condition we have seen it ? What induce
ment has the farmer, while following the plough, to lay aside
his peaceful pursuit, and go to war with the farmer of an
other country? or what inducement has the manufacturer?
What is dominion to them, or to any class of men in a na
tion? Does it add an acre to any man's estate, or raise its
value ? Are not conquest and defeat each of the same price,
and taxes the never-failing consequence ? — Though this rea
soning may be good to a nation, it is not so to a government.
War is the Pharo-table of governments, and nations the dupes
of the game.
If there is anything to wonder at in this miserable scene of
governments more than might be expected, it is the progress
which the peaceful arts of agriculture, manufacture and com
merce have made beneath such a long accumulating load of
discouragement and oppression. It serves to shew that in
stinct in animals does not act with stronger impulse than the
principles of society and civilisation operate in man. Under
all discouragements, he pursues his object, and yields to
nothing but impossibilities.

CHAPTER III.
OF THE OLD AND NEW SYSTEMS OF GOVERNMENT.
NOTHING can appear more contradictory than the princi
ples on which the old governments began, and the condition
to which society, civilisation and commerce are capable of
carrying mankind. Government, on the old system, is an/
assumption of power, for the aggrandisement of itself ; on
the new, a delegation of power for the common benefit of

f\.

414 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
society. The former supports itself by keeping up a system
of war ; the latter promotes a system of peace, as the true
means of enriching a nation. The one encourages national
prejudices ; the other promotes universal society, as the
means of universal commerce. The one measures its pros
perity, by the quantity of revenue it extorts ; the other
proves its excellence, by the small quantity of taxes it
^requires. Mr. Burke has talked of old and new whigs. If he can
amuse himself with childish names and distinctions, I shall
not interrupt his pleasure. It is not to him, but to the Abbe
Sieyes, that I address this chapter. I am already engaged
to the latter gentleman to discuss the subject of monarchical
government ; and as it naturally occurs in comparing the
old and new systems, I make this the opportunity of pre
senting to him my observations.1 I shall occasionally take
Mr. Burke in my way.
Though it might be proved that the system of govern
ment now called the NEW, is the most ancient in principle of
all that have existed, being founded on the original, inherent
Rights of Man : yet, as tyranny and the sword have sus
pended the exercise of those rights for many centuries past,
it serves better the purpose of distinction to call it the new,
than to claim the right of calling it the old.
The first general distinction between those two systems, is,
that the one now called the old is hereditary, either in whole
or in part ; and the new is entirely representative. It rejects
all hereditary government :
First, As being an imposition on mankind.
Secondly, As inadequate to the purposes for which gov
ernment is necessary.
With respect to the first of these heads — It cannot be
1 In Le R/publicain, Paris, July, 1791, Paine wrote a letter in which he de
clared monarchy and hereditary succession incompatible with the Declaration
of Rights in the new French Constitution. The Abbe Sieyes {Moniteur, July 8,)
announced his intention of maintaining the principle of monarchical executive
against the new party. Paine accepted the challenge, but Sieyes wrote that he
had " no leisure to enter into controversy with republican polycrats. " See my
" Life of Paine," i. p. 312. — Editor.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 415
proved by what right hereditary government could begin ;
neither does there exist within the compass of mortal power
a right to establish it. Man has no authority over posterity
in matters of personal right ; and, therefore, no man, or body
of men, had, or can have, a right to set up hereditary gov
ernment. Were even ourselves to come again into exist
ence, instead of being succeeded by posterity, we have not
now the right of taking from ourselves the rights which
would then be ours. On what ground, then, do we pretend
to take them from others?
All hereditary government is in its nature tyranny. An
heritable crown, or an heritable throne, or by what other fanci
ful name such things may be called, have no other significant
explanation than that mankind are heritable property. To
inherit a government, is to inherit the people, as if they
were flocks and herds.
With respect to the second head, that of being inadequate
to the purposes for which government is necessary, we have
only to consider what government essentially is, and com
pare it with the circumstances to which hereditary succession
is subject. Government ought to be a thing always in full maturity.
It ought to be so constructed as to be superior to all the
accidents to which individual man is subject ; and, therefore,
hereditary succession, by being subject to them all, is the
most irregular and imperfect of all the systems of govern
ment. We have heard the Rights of Man called a levelling system ;
but the only system to which the word levelling is truly
applicable, is the hereditary monarchical system. It is a
system of mental levelling. It indiscriminately admits every
species of character to the same authority. Vice and virtue,
ignorance and wisdom, in short, every quality, good or bad,
is put on the same level. Kings succeed each other, not as
rationals, but as animals. It signifies not what their mental
or moral characters are. Can we then be surprised at the
abject state of the human mind in monarchical countries,
when the government itself is formed on such an abject

416 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
levelling system ? — It has no fixed character. To-day it is
one thing ; to-morrow it is something else. It changes with
the temper of every succeeding individual, and is subject
to all the varieties of each. It is government through the
medium of passions and accidents. It appears under all the
various characters of childhood, decrepitude, dotage, a thing
at nurse, in leading-strings, or in crutches. It reverses the
wholesome order of nature. It occasionally puts children
over men, and the conceits of non-age over wisdom and ex
perience. In short, we cannot conceive a more ridiculous
figure of government, than hereditary succession, in all its
cases, presents.
Could it be made a decree in nature, or an edict registered
in heaven, and man could know it, that virtue and wisdom
should invariably appertain to hereditary succession, the
objection to it would be removed ; but when we see that
nature acts as if she disowned and sported with the heredi
tary system ; that the mental character of successors, in all
countries, is below the average of human understanding;
that one is a tyrant, another an idiot, a third insane, and
some all three together, it is impossible to attach confidence
to it, when reason in man has power to act.
It is not to the Abbe" Sieyes that I need apply this reason
ing ; he has already saved me that trouble by giving his own
opinion upon the case. " If it be asked," says he, " what is
my opinion with respect to hereditary right, I answer without
hesitation, That in good theory, an hereditary transmission
of any power of office, can never accord with the laws of a true
representation. Hereditaryship is, in this sense, as much
an attaint upon principle, as an outrage upon society. But
let us," continues he, " refer to the history of all elective
monarchies and principalities : is there one in which the
elective mode is not worse than the hereditary succession ? "
As to debating on which is the worst of the two, it is
admitting both to be bad ; and herein we are agreed. The
preference which the Abbe has given, is a condemnation of
the thing that he prefers. Such a mode of reasoning on
such a subject is inadmissible, because it finally amounts to

I79-] RIGHl^S OF MAN. 417
an accusation upon Providence, as if she had left to man no
other choice with respect to government than between two
evils, the best of which he admits to be " an attaint upon prin
ciple, and an outrage upon society."
Passing over, for the present, all the evils and mischiefs
t f which monarchy has occasioned in the world, nothing can
more effectually prove its uselessness in a state of civil gov-
t . crnment, than making it hereditary. Would we make any
office hereditary that required wisdom and abilities to fill
it ? And where wisdom and abilities are not necessary,
such an office, whatever it may be, is superfluous or insig
nificant. Hereditary succession is a burlesque upon monarchy. It
puts it in the most ridiculous light, by presenting it as an
office which any child or ideot may fill. It requires some
talents to be a common mechanic ; but to be a king requires
only the animal figure of man — a sort of breathing automa
ton. 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
gether 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 a
figure of monarchy with him, as a man. I will, however,
do 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 those of England, or of any country in
Europe ; and that therefore the imposition of shew was not
necessary in their governments.
Though the comparison between hereditary and elective
monarchy, which the Abb6 has made, is unnecessary to the
case, because the representative system rejects both : yet,
were I to make the comparison, I should decide contrary to
what he has done.

418 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
The civil wars which have originated from contested hered
itary 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 misfor
tunes. 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 suc
cession war for the crown of Spain, embroiled almost half
Europe. The disturbances in Holland are generated from
the hereditaryship of the Stadtholder. A government call
ing itself free, with an hereditary office, is like a thorn in the
flesh, that produces a fermentation which endeavours to
discharge it.
But I might go further, and place also foreign wars, of what
ever kind, to the same cause. It is by adding the evil of
hereditary succession to that of monarchy, that a permanent
family interest is created, whose constant objects are domin
ion and revenue. Poland, though an elective monarchy, has
had fewer wars than those which are hereditary ; and it
is the only government 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 civilisation
for its basis ; nature, reason, and experience, for its guide.
Experience, in all ages, and in all countries, has demon
strated that it is impossible to controul Nature in her distri
bution 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

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 419
of human beauty, as of wisdom. Whatever wisdom con
stituency 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 probably visited
in rotation every family of the earth, and again withdrawn.
As this is in 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 is unjust.
As the republic of letters brings forward the best 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 from where it
can be found. I smile to myself when I contemplate the
ridiculous insignificance into which literature and all the sci
ences 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 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 hered
itary government than is seen in the descendants of those
men, in any line of life, who once were 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 for
sook 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 perpetually in contradic
tion with himself ; he accepts, for a king, or a chief magis
trate, or a legislator, a person whom he would not elect
for a constable.

420 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
It appears to general observation, that revolutions create
genius and talents ; but those events do no more than bring
them forward. There is existing in man, a mass of sense
lying in a 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 construc
tion 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 revolutions.
This cannot take place in the insipid state of hereditary
government, 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, it 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 the 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 description. I mean
the democracy of the Athenians. We see more to admire,
and less to condemn, in that great, extraordinary people,
than in anything which history affords.
Mr. Burke is so little acquainted with constituent princi
ples of government, that he confounds democracy and
representation together. Representation was a thing un
known 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 government. As those democ
racies increased in population, and the territory extended,
the simple democratical form became unwieldy and imprac
ticable ; and as the system of representation was not known,

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 42 1
the consequence was, they either degenerated convulsively
into monarchies, or became absorbed into such as then
existed. Had the system of representation been then under
stood, as it now is, there is no reason to believe that those
forms of government, now called monarchical or aristocrat-
ical, 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 op
portunities 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 will
proceed to remark on some others.
It has always been the political craft of courtiers and
court-governments, to abuse something which they called
republicanism ; 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, and what is now called the
representative. What is called a republic is not any particular form of
government. It is wholly characteristical of the purport,
matter or object for which government ought to be insti
tuted, and on which it is to be employed, RES-PUBLICA, the
public affairs, or the public good ; or, literally translated, the
public thing. It is a word of a good original, referring to
whaF ought to be the character and business of government ;
and in this sense it is naturally opposed to the word mon
archy, which has a base original signification. It means
arbitrary power in an individual person ; in the exercise of
which, himself, and not the res-publica, is the object.
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.
Republican government is no other than government estab
lished 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

422 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
with the representative form, as being best calculated to secure
the end for which a nation is at the expense of supporting it.
Various forms of government have affected to style them
selves a republic. Poland calls itself a republic, which is an
hereditary aristocracy, with what is called an elective mon
archy. 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 in
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 THIS, and no other, shall always be the object of their
government, by their rejecting everything hereditary, and
establishing government on the system of representation
only. Those who have said that a republic is not a. form of
government calculated for countries of great extent, mistook,
in the first place, the business of a government, for a form of
government ; for the res-publica equally appertains to every
extent of territory and population. And, in the second
place, if they meant anything with respect to form, it was
the simple democratical 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 repub
lic cannot be extensive, but that it cannot be extensive on
the simple democratical form ; and the question naturally
presents itself, What is the best form of government for con
ducting the RES-PUBLICA, or the PUBLIC BUSINESS of a nation,
after it becomes too extensive and populous for the simple
democratical form ? It cannot be monarchy, because mon
archy is subject to an objection of the same amount to
which the simple democratical form was subject.
It is possible that an individual may lay down a system of
principles, on which government shall be constitutionally
established to any extent of territory. This is no%nore than
an 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,

423

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.
manufacture, trade, commerce, etc., etc., requires a knowl
edge 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 individual can possess ; and therefore
the monarchical form is as much limited, in useful practice,
from the incompetency of knowledge, as was the democrati
cal form, from the multiplicity of population. The one
degenerates, by extension, into confusion; 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 ideots, and all the
motley insignificance of character, which attends such a mere
animal system, the disgrace 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 them to the original simple democracy, it affords
the true data from which government on a large scale can
begin. It is incapable of extension, not from its principle,
but from the inconvenience of its form ; and monarchy and
aristocracy, from their incapacity. Retaining, then, democ
racy 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 respect to knowledge.
Simple democracy was society governing itself without
the aid of secondary means. By ingrafting representation
* For a character of aristocracy, the reader is referred to Rights of Man,
Part I., p. 319. — Author.

424 THE WRH'INGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
upon democracy, we arrive at a system of government cap
able of embracing and confederating all the various interests
and every extent of territory and population ; and that
also with advantages as much superior to hereditary govern
ment, as the republic of letters is to hereditary literature.
It is on this system that the American government is
founded. It is representation ingrafted upon democracy.
It has fixed the form by a scale parallel in all cases to the
extent 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, the
model of the present. It is the easiest of all the forms of
government to be understood and the most eligible in prac
tice ; 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 immediately produced by the opera
tion of representation. France, great and populous as it is,
is but a spot in the capaciousness of the system. It is
preferable to simple democracy even in small territories.
Athens, by representation, would have outrivalled her own
democracy. That which is called government, or rather that which we
ought to conceive government to be, is no more than some
common center in which all the parts of society unite. This
cannot be accomplished by any method so conducive to the
various interests of the community, as by the representative
system. It concentrates the knowledge necessary to the
interest of the parts, and of the whole. It places govern
ment in a state of constant maturity. It is, as has already
been observed, never young, never old. It is subject neither
to nonage, nor dotage. It is never in the cradle, nor on
crutches. It admits not of a separation between knowledge
and power, and is superior, as government always ought to
be, to all the accidents of individual man, and is therefore
superior to what is called monarchy.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 425
A nation is not a body, the figure of which is to be repre
sented by the human body ; but is like a body contained
within a circle, having a common center, in which every radius
meets ; and that center is formed by representation. To
connect representation with what is called monarchy, is
eccentric government. Representation is of itself the dele
gated monarchy of a nation, and cannot debase itself by
dividing it with another.
Mr. Burke has two or three times, in his parliamentary
speeches, and in his publications, made use of a jingle of
words that convey no ideas. Speaking of government, he
says, " It is better to have monarchy for its basis, and
republicanism for its corrective, than republicanism for its
basis, and monarchy for its corrective." — If he means that
it is better to correct folly with wisdom, than wisdom with
folly, I will no otherwise contend with him, than that it
would be much better to reject the folly entirely.
But what is this thing which Mr. Burke calls monarchy ?
Will he explain it ? All men can understand what represen
tation is ; and that it must necessarily include a variety of
knowledge and talents. But what security is there for the
same qualities on the part of monarchy ? or, when the mon
archy is a child, where then is the wisdom ? What does it
know about government ? Who then is the monarch, or
where is the monarchy ? If it is to be performed by
regency, it proves to be a farce. A regency is a mock
species of republic, and the whole of monarchy deserves no
better description. It is a thing as various as imagination
can paint. It has none of the stable character that govern
ment 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. To render monarchy consist
ent with government, the next in succession should not be
born a child, but a man at once, and that man a Solomon.
It is ridiculous that nations are to wait and government be
interrupted till boys grow to be men.
Whether I have too little sense to see, or too much to be

426 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
imposed upon ; whether I have too much or too little pride,
or of anything else, I leave out of the question ; but certain
it is, that what is called monarchy, always appears to me a
silly, contemptible thing. I compare it to something kept
behind a curtain, 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 of
this can happen. Like the nation itself, it possesses a per
petual stamina, as well of body as of mind, and presents
itself on the open theatre of the world in a fair and manly
manner. Whatever are its excellences or 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, pass
ing from heart to heart, is felt and understood.
We must shut our eyes against reason, we must basely
degrade 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 progress 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 par
allel with the order and immutable laws of nature, and meets
the reason 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 individual member of Congress.1 He cannot,
therefore, be elected to this office under the age of thirty-
five years. By this time the judgment of man becomes
more matured, and he has lived long enough to be ac
quainted with men and things, and the country with him. —
But on the monarchial plan (exclusive of the numerous
chances there are against every man born into 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
1 It was not uncommon in England, when the United States government
began, to speak of the President as " the President of Congress." — Editor.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 427
nation, and of a government, at the age of eighteen years.
Does this appear like an action 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 people? — 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 management of an acre of land,
or with the heritable property of a flock of sheep, or an herd
of swine ; but, wonderful to tell ! he may, at the age of
eighteen years, be trusted with a nation.
That monarchy is all a bubble, a mere court artifice to
procure money, is evident (at least to me,) in every charac
ter in which it can be viewed. It would be impossible, on
the rational system of representative government, to make
out a bill of expences to such an enormous amount as this
deception admits. Government is not of itself a very
chargeable institution. The whole expence 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 England, is but six
hundred thousand dollars, or one hundred and thirty-five
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 expence of the civil list only, for the support of one
man, is eight times greater than the whole expence of the
federal government in America. To assign a reason for this,
appears almost impossible. The generality of people in
America, especially the poor, are more able to pay taxes,
than the generality of people either in France or England.
But the case is, that the representative system diffuses
such a body of knowledge throughout a nation, on the sub
ject 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 ; nowhere for it to
begin. Those who are not in the representation, know as
much of the nature of business as those who are. An affec-

428 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
tation 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
must publicly appear. Every man is a proprietor in govern
ment, and considers it a necessary part of his business to
understand. It concerns his interest, because it affects his
property. He examines the cost, and compares it with the
advantages ; and above 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
mysterious thing, that excessive revenues are obtained.
Monarchy is well calculated to ensure this end. It is the
popery of government ; a thing kept up to amuse the igno
rant, and quiet them into taxes.
The government of a free country, properly speaking, is
not in the persons, but in the laws. The enacting of those
requires no great expence ; and when they are administered,
the whole of civil government is performed — the rest is all
court contrivance.

CHAPTER IV.
OF CONSTITUTIONS.
That men mean distinct and separate things when they
speak 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 government ; and government without
a constitution, is power without a right.
All power exercised over a nation, must have some begin
ning. It must either be delegated or assumed. There are
no other sources. All delegated power is trust, and all
assumed power is usurpation. Time does not alter the
nature and quality of either.
In viewing this subject, the case and circumstances of

I792l RIGHTS OF MAN. 429
America present themselves as in the beginning of a world ;
and our enquiry into the origin of government is shortened,
by referring to the facts that have arisen in our own day.
We have no occasion to roam for information into the
obscure field of antiquity, nor hazard ourselves upon con
jecture. We are brought at once to the point of seeing
government begin, as if we had lived in the beginning of
time. The real volume, not of history, but of facts, is
directly before us, unmutilated by contrivance, or the errors
of tradition.
I will here concisely state the commencement of the Amer
ican constitutions ; by which the difference between consti
tutions and governments will sufficiently appear.
It may not be improper to remind the reader that
the United States of America consist of thirteen separate
states, each of which established a government for itself,
after the declaration of independence, done the 4th of July,
1776. Each state acted independently of the rest, in form
ing its governments ; but the same general principle
pervades the whole. When the several state governments
were formed, they proceeded to form the federal govern
ment, that acts over the whole in all matters which concern
the interest of the whole, or which relate to the intercourse
of the several states with each other, or with foreign nations.
I will begin with giving an instance from one of the state
governments (that of Pennsylvania) and then proceed to the
federal government.
The State of Pennsylvania, though nearly of the same
extent of territory as England, was then divided into only
twelve counties. Each of those counties had elected a
committee at the commencement of the dispute with the
English government ; and as the city of Philadelphia, which
also had its committee, was the most central for intelligence,
it became the center of communication to the several county
committees. When it became necessary to proceed to the
formation of a government, the committee of Philadelphia
proposed a conference of all the committees, to be held in
that city, and which met the latter end of July, 1776.

430 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
Though these committees had been duly elected by the
people, they were not elected expressly for the purpose,
nor invested with the authority of forming a constitution ;
and as they could not, consistently with the American idea
of rights, assume such a power, they could only confer upon
the matter, and put it into a train of operation. The con
ferees, therefore, did no more than state the case, and
recommend to the several counties to elect six representatives
for each county, to meet in convention at Philadelphia, with
powers to form a constitution, and propose it for public
consideration. This convention, of which Benjamin Franklin was presi
dent, having met and deliberated, and agreed upon a con
stitution, they next ordered it to be published, not as a
thing established, but for the consideration of the whole
people, their approbation or rejection, and then adjourned
to a stated time. When the time of adjournment was ex
pired, the convention re-assembled ; and as the general
opinion of the people in approbation of it was then known,
the constitution was signed, sealed, and proclaimed on
the authority of the people and the original instrument de
posited as a public record. The convention then appointed
a day for the general election of the representatives who
were to compose the government, and the time it should
commence ; and having done this they dissolved, and
returned to their several homes and occupations.
In this constitution were laid down, first, a declaration of
rights ; then followed the form which the government should
have, and the powers it should possess — the authority of the
courts of judicature, and of juries — the manner in which
elections should be conducted, and the proportion of repre
sentatives to the number of electors — the time which each
succeeding assembly should continue, which was one year —
the mode of levying, and of accounting for the expenditure,
of public money — of appointing public officers, etc., etc., etc.
No article of this constitution could be altered or infringed
at the discretion of the government that was to ensue. It
was to that government a law. But as it would have been

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 43 I
unwise to preclude the benefit of experience, and in order
also to prevent the accumulation of errors, if any should be
found, and to preserve an unison of government with the
circumstances of the State at all times, the constitution pro
vided, that, at the expiration of every seven years, a con
vention should be elected, for the express purpose of revis
ing the constitution, and making alterations, additions, or
abolitions therein, if any such should be found necessary.
Here we see a regular process — a government issuing out
of a constitution, formed by the people in their original
character ; and that constitution serving, not only as an
authority, but as an law of controul to the government. It
was the political bible of the state. Scarcely a family was
without it. Every member of the government had a copy ;
and nothing was more common, when any debate arose on
the principle of a bill, or on the extent of any species of
authority, than for the members to take the printed consti
tution out of their pocket, and read the chapter with which
such matter in debate was connected.
Having thus given an instance from one of the states, I
will shew the proceedings by which the federal constitution
of the United States arose and was formed.
Congress, at its two first meetings, in September 1774,
and May 1775, was nothing more than a deputation from the
legislatures of the several provinces, afterwards states ; and
had no other authority than what arose from common con
sent, and the necessity of its acting as a public body. In
everything which related to the internal affairs of America,
congress went no further than to issue recommendations to
the several provincial assemblies, who at discretion adopted
them or not. Nothing on the part of congress was compul
sive ; yet, in this situation, it was more faithfully and affec
tionately obeyed than was any government in Europe.
This instance, like that of the national assembly in France,
sufficiently shows, that the strength of government does not
consist in any thing WITHIN itself, but in the attachment of
a nation, and the interest which a people feel in supporting
it. When this is lost, government is but a child in power;

432 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
and though, like the old government in France, it may harrass
individuals for a while, it but facilitates its own fall.
After the declaration of independence, it became consis
tent with the principle on which representative government
is founded, that the authority of congress should be
defined and established. Whether that authority should
be more or less than congress then discretionarily exercised
was not the question. It was merely the rectitude of the
measure. For this purpose, the act, called the act of confederation,
(which was a sort of imperfect federal constitution), was
proposed, and, after long deliberation, was concluded in the
year 1781. It was not the act of congress, because it is
repugnant to the principles of representative government
that a body should give power to itself. Congress first
informed the several states, of the powers which it conceived
were necessary to be invested in the union, to enable it to
perform the duties and services required from it ; and the
states severally agreed with each other, and concentrated in
congress those powers.
It may not be improper to observe, that in both those
instances, (the one of Pennsylvania, and the other of theUnited
States), there is no such thing as the idea of a compact
between the people on one side, and the government on the
other. The compact was that of the people with each other,
to produce and constitute a government. To suppose that
any government can be a party in a compact with the whole
people, is to suppose it to have existence before it can have
a right to exist. The only instance in which a compact can
take place between the people and those who exercise the
government, is, that the people shall pay them, while they
chuse to employ them.
Government is not a trade which any man, or any body
of men, has a right to set up and exercise for his own emolu
ment, but is altogether a trust, in right of those by whom
that trust is delegated, and by whom it is always resumeable.
It has of itself no rights ; they are altogether duties.
Having thus given two instances of the original formation

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 433
of a constitution, I will shew the manner in which both
have been changed since their first establishment.
The powers vested in the governments of the several
states, by the state constitutions, were found, upon experi
ence, to be too great; and those vested in the federal
government, by the act of confederation, too little. The
defect was not in the principle, but in the distribution of
power. Numerous publications, in pamphlets and in the news
papers, appeared, on the propriety and necessity of new
modelling the federal government. After some time of
public discussion, carried on through the channel of the
press, and in conversations, the state of Virginia, experi
encing some inconvenience with respect to commerce, pro
posed holding a continental conference ; in consequence of
which, a deputation from five or six state assemblies met at
Annapolis, in Maryland, in 1786. This meeting, not con
ceiving itself sufficiently authorised to go into the business
of a reform, did no more than state their general opinions
of the propriety of the measure, and recommend that a con
vention of all the states should be held the year following.
The 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 govern
ments, 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 consti
tution, the next question was, the manner of giving it
authority and practice.
For this purpose they did not, like a cabal of courtiers,
send for a Dutch Stadtholder, or a German Elector ; but
they referred the whole matter to the sense and interest of
the country.
They first directed that the proposed constitution should be
published. Secondly, that each state should elect a conven-
VOL. II. — 28

434 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
tion, expressly for the purpose of taking it into considera
tion, and of ratifying or rejecting it ; and that as soon as the
approbation and ratification of any nine states should be
given, that those states shall proceed to the election of their
proportion of members 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
conventions. Some of those conventions ratified the consti
tution by very large majorities, and two or three unanimously.
In others there were much debate and division of opinion.
In the Massachussetts 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 Massachussetts convention was closed,
and the vote taken, the objecting members rose and de
clared, "That though they had argued and voted against it,
because certain parts appeared to them in a different light to
what they appeared to other members ; yet, as the vote had
decided in favour of the constitution as proposed, they should
give it the same practical support as if they had voted for it."
As soon as nine states had concurred (and the rest fol
lowed in the order their conventions were elected), the old
fabric of the federal government was taken down, and the
new one erected, of which General Washington is president.
— In this place I 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 labours of mankind, a prodigality of pay, to
which neither their abilities nor their services can entitle
them, he is rendering every service in his power, and refus
ing every pecuniary reward. He accepted no pay as com
mander-in-chief ; he accepts none as president of the United
States.1 1 It had not been made known to the world that Washington had receded
from this determination, announced at his inauguration. Hereceived payment
like other Presidents. — Editor.

1792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 435
After the new federal constitution was established, the
state of Pennsylvania, conceiving that some parts of its own
constitution 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
governments then in being were not actors either way.1
Government has no right to make itself a party in any
debate respecting the principles or modes of forming, or of
changing, constitutions. It 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 receive.
A constitution is the property of a nation, and not of
those who exercise the government. All the constitutions
of America are declared to be established on the authority
of the people. In France, the word nation is used instead
of the people ; but in both cases, a constitution is a thing
antecedent to the government, 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 constitu
tion. It then appointed its officers, whose powers and
authorities are described in that constitution, and the gov-
' Not quite correct as to the United States. The old Congress invited the
States to send delegates to the Constitutional Convention, appointed the day of
meeting, and submitted their work to the several States for ratification.—
Editor.

436 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
ernment of that 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. They
could not but perceive, that there must necessarily be a
controuling power existing somewhere, and they placed this
power in the discretion of the persons exercising the gov
ernment, 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 controuling
powers are together. The laws which are enacted by gov
ernments, controul men only as individuals, but the nation,
through its constitution, controuls the whole government,
and has a natural ability to do so. The final controuling
power, therefore, and the original constituting 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 an evidence that no such thing as a constitution
exists in England. But it may be put as a question, not
improper to be investigated, that if a constitution does not
exist, how came the idea of its existence so generally estab
lished ?
In order to decide this question, it is necessary to consider
a constitution in both its cases : — First, as creating a gov
ernment and giving it powers. Secondly, 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 na
tion, 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 almanack
of the same date), was no more than compelling the govern-

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

437

ment to renounce a part of its assumptions. It did not
create and give powers to government in a manner a consti
tution does ; but was, as far as it went, of the nature of a
re-conquest, and not 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 form.
The history of the Edwards and the Henries, and up to
the commencement of the Stuarts, exhibits as many in
stances of tyranny as could be acted within the limits to
which the nation had restricted it. The Stuarts endeavoured
to pass those limits, and their fate is well known. In all
those instances we see nothing of a constitution, but only
of restrictions on assumed power.
After this, another William, descended from the same
stock, and claiming from the same origin, gained possession ;
and of the two evils, James and William, the nation pre
ferred what it thought the least ; since, from circumstances,
it must take one. The act, called the Bill of Rights, comes
here into view. What is it, but a bargain, which the parts of
the government made with each other to divide powers,
profits, 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 to
gether, and called themselves by that name. Several of them
had never been elected, and none of them for the purpose.
From the time of William a species of government arose,
issuing out of this coalition bill of rights; and more so,
since the corruption introduced at the Hanover succession
by the agency of Walpole ; that can be described by no
other name than a despotic legislation. Though the parts
may embarrass each other, the whole has no bounds ; and
the only right it acknowledges out of itself, is the right of
petitioning. Where then is the constitution either that
gives or restrains power ?

438 THE WRITINGS OF. THOMAS PAINE. [1792
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 representa
tion, and the candidates are candidates for despotism.1
I cannot believe that any nation, reasoning on its own
rights, would have thought of calling these things a constitu
tion, if the cry of constitution had not been set up by the
government. It has got into circulation like the words bore
and quoz \_quiz\ by being chalked up in the speeches of par
liament, as those words were on window shutters and door
posts ; but whatever the constitution may be in other
respects, it has undoubtedly been the most productive machine
of 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 six
pence per head — men, women, and children — amounting to
nearly seventeen millions sterling, besides the expence of
collecting, which is upwards of a million more.
1 This and the three preceding paragraphs were omitted by Paine in his
cheap edition (Symonds, 1792) with the following statement : " Here follow,
on page 52 of the original edition, four paragraphs. As those paragraphs are
put into the information, and will publicly appear with the pleadings thereon,
when the prosecution shall be brought to an issue, they are not verbally recited
here, except the first of them, which is added in the annexed note, for the pur
pose of shewing the spirit of the prosecuting party, and the sort of matter
which has been selected from the work for prosecution." After the note he
adds : " Query. Does the prosecuting party mean to deny that instances of
tyranny were acted by the Edwards and Henries ? Does he mean to deny that
the Stuarts endeavoured to pass the limits which the nation had prescribed ?
Does he mean to prove it libellous in any person to say that they did ? " —
Editor. * 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 sterling 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. — Author.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 439
In a country like England, where the whole of the civil
Government 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 the government or any other expence 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 new taxes. No wonder, then, that a
machine of government so advantageous to the advocates
of a court, should be so triumphantly extolled ! No won
der, that St. James's or St. Stephen's should echo with the
continual cry of constitution ; no wonder, 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.*
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 his speech on the Canada Consti
tution bill), " never dreamed of such absurd doctrine as the
Rights of Man."
Mr. Burke is such a bold presumer, and advances his as
sertions and his premises with such a deficiency of judgment,
that, without troubling ourselves about principles of philos
ophy or politics, the mere logical conclusions they produce,
are ridiculous. For instance,
If 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 right of some
thing that is not man. What then is that something ?
Generally speaking, we know of no other creatures that
inhabit 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
* What was called the Wore rouge, or the red book, in France, was not
exactly similar to the court calender in England ; but it sufficiently showed
how a great part of the taxes was lavished.— A uthor.

440 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
affirmative on the other ; and therefore, Mr. Burke, by prov
ing against the Rights of Man, proves in behalf of the beast ;
and consequently, proves that government is a beast ; and
as difficult things sometimes 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 shew the origin
of the government. They are in the place of a constitution.
O John Bull, what honours 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 taken, I hope Mr. Burke will also make his for giving
the cause.
Having thus paid Mr. Burke the compliment of remem
bering 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 irrational and tyrannical, and the administration of them
vague and problematical.
The attention of the government of England (for I rather
chuse to call it by this name than the English govern
ment) appears, since its political connection with Germany,
to have been so completely engrossed and absorbed by foreign
affairs, and the means of raising taxes, that it seems to exit
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
precedent, be that precedent good or bad, or whether it
properly applies or not ; and the practice is become so gen
eral 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 France, this preaching up the doctrines of precedents,
drawn from times and circumstances antecedent to those
events, has been the studied practice of the English govern
ment. The generality of those precedents are founded on

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 441
principles and opinions, the reverse of what they ought ; and
the greater distance of time they are drawn from, the more
they are to be suspected. But by associating those prece
dents with a superstitious reverence for ancient things, as
monks shew 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 softly leading him to the sepulchre of precedents,
to deaden his faculties and call 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 hasten
ing to its exit. The ragged relic and the antiquated prece
dent, the monk and the monarch, will moulder together.
Government by precedent, without any regard to the
principle of the precedent, is one of the vilest systems that
can be set up. In numerous instances, the precedent ought
to operate as a warning, and not as an example, and requires
to be shunned instead of imitated ; but instead of this, prece
dents are taken in the lump, and put at once for constitu
tion and for law.
Either the doctrine of precedents is policy to keep a man
in a state of ignorance, or it is a practical confession that wis
dom 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 treated ! To 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 ex
pences 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, legisla
tion is at an end, and precedent, like a dictionary, deter
mines every case. Either, therefore, government has arrived

442 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
at its dotage, and requires to be renovated, or all the occa
sions for exercising its wisdom have occurred.
We now see all over Europe, and particularly in England,
the curious phenomenon of a nation looking one way, and
the government 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.*
Having thus spoken of constitutions generally, as things
distinct 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 have a 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 component 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
constitution. Whether it exercises this right in the most judicious man
ner 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 gen-
* In England the improvements in agriculture, useful arts, manufactures,
and commerce, have been made in opposition to the genius of its government,
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 pillow nor bolster, that these improvements have pro
ceeded. No man thought about government, or who 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 let 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 a minister. — Author.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 443
eral principle, yet no two of them are exactly alike in their
component 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, what are the best means, and the least expensive,
for accomplishing those ends ?
Government is nothing more than a national association ;
and the object of this association is the good of all, as well
individually as collectively. Every man wishes to pursue
his occupation, and to enjoy the fruits of his labours and the
produce of his property in peace and safety, and with the
least possible expence. When these things are accom
plished, all the objects for which government ought to be
established are answered.
It 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 unincumbered by
the habit of multiplied terms, we can perceive no more than
two divisions of power, of which civil government is com
posed, namely, that of legislating or enacting laws, and that
of executing or administering them. Everything, therefore,
appertaining 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 execu
tive power of every country. It is that power to which
every individual has appeal, and which causes the laws to be
executed ; 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

444 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
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 good.
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 but of one, but in both countries, it is
wholly by representation.
The case is, that mankind (from the long tyranny of as
sumed power) have had so few opportunities of making the
necessary trials on modes and principles of government, in
order to discover the best, that government is but now begin
ning to be known, and experience is 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.
Secondly, That by taking the vote on each, as a separate
body, it always admits of the possibility, and is often the
case in practice, that the minority governs the majority, and
that, in some instances, to a degree of great inconsistency.
Thirdly, That two houses arbitrarily checking or controul
ing 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 precaution.*
* 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 its own. 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

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 445
The objection against a single house is, that it is always
in a condition of committing itself too soon. — But it should
at the same time be remembered, that when there is a con
stitution which defines the power, and establishes the prin
ciples within which a legislature shall act, there is already a
more effectual check provided, and more powerfully opera
ting, than any other check can be. For example,
Were a Bill to be brought into any of the American legis
latures similar to that which was passed into an act by the
English parliament, at the commencement of George the
First, 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 thou go and no further.
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 absur
dities, arising from two houses, the following method has
been proposed as an improvement upon both.
First, To have but one representation.
Secondly, To divide that representation, by lot, into two
or three parts.
Thirdly, That every proposed bill, shall be first debated
in those parts by succession, that they may become the
hearers of each other, but without taking any vote. After
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 repre
sentation 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. It appears also to be most under
influence, and the furthest removed from the general interest of the nation. Iu
the debate on engaging in the Russian and Turkish war, the majority in the
house of peers in favor of it was upwards of ninety, when in the other house ;
which was more than double its numbers, the majority was sixty-three.
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 privileges than that bill gave to
others. They are their own jury, and if any one of that house were prosecu
ted for a libel, he would not suffer, even upon conviction, for the first offence.
Such inequality in laws ought not to exist in any country. The French con
stitution says, that the law is the same to every individual, whether to protect or
to punish. All are equal in its sight, — Author.

446 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
which the whole representation 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 the state of
constant renovation ; which is, that one-third of the repre
sentation of each county, 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.*
, But in whatever manner the separate parts of a constitu-
1 tion may be arranged, there is one general principle that
I distinguishes freedom from slavery, which is, that all heredi-
I tary government over a people is to them a species of slavery,
I and representative government is freedom.
Considering government in the only light in which it
should be considered, that of a NATIONAL ASSOCIATION, it
ought to be so constructed as not to be disordered by any
accident happening among the parts ; and, therefore, no
extraordinary power, capable of producing such an effect,
should be lodged in the hands of any individual. The death,
sickness, absence or defection, of any one individual in a
government, 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 degrading character
of national greatness, than its being thrown into confusion,
by anything happening to or acted by any individual ; and
the ridiculousness of the scene is often increased by the nat
ural insignificance 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 great and as real, on the flight or
sickness of the goose, or the gander, as if it were called a
King. We laugh at individuals for the silly difficulties they
*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 form of government into consideration. — Author.

I7923 RIGHTS OF MAN. 447
make to themselves, without perceiving that the greatest of
all ridiculous things are acted in governments.*
All the constitutions of America are on a plan that ex
cludes the childish embarrassments which occur in monar
chical countries. No suspension of government can there
take place for a moment, from any circumstances whatever.
The system of representation provides for everything, and is
the only system in which nations and governments can
always appear in their proper character.
As extraordinary power ought not to be lodged in the
hands of any individual, so ought there to be no appropria
tions of public money to any person, beyond what his ser
vices in a state 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 per
form in the state ; and the service of any such individual in
the routine of office, whether such office be called monar
chical, 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 per
formed by volunteer characters, who accept nothing for
them ; but the routine of office is always regulated to such
a general standard of abilities as to be within the compass
of numbers in every country to perform, and therefore can
not merit very extraordinary recompense. Government, says
Swift, is a plain thing, and fitted to the capacity of many heads.
* It is related that in the canton of Berne, in Switzerland, it has 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 an
other. During this interregnum the people discovered that the corn grew, 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 circum
stances, 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 newspapers, at the time of the flight of Louis XVI., and
the application of it to monarchy could not be mistaken in France ; but it
seems that the aristocracy of Berne applied it to themselves, and have since
prohibited the reading of French newspapers.— Author.

448 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
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
individual, whilst thousands who are forced to contribute
thereto, are pining with want, and struggling with misery.
Government does not consist in a contrast between prisons
and palaces, between poverty and pomp ; it is not instituted
to rob the needy of his mite, and increase the wretchedness
of the wretched. — But on this part of the subject I shall
speak hereafter, and confine myself at present to political
observations. When extraordinary power and extraordinary pay are
allotted to any individual in a government, he becomes the
center, 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 expence
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 corruption 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
promote a spirit of reform, lest, in the event, it should
reach to himself. It is always his interest to defend inferior
abuses, as so many outworks to protect the citadel ; and on
this species of political fortification, all the parts have such a
common dependence 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. It is the
* 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 protected by
governments, ancient or modern, there is not a greater than that of quartering
a man and his heirs upon the public, to be maintained at his expence.
Humanity dictates a provision for the poor ; but by what right, moral or poli
tical, does any government assume to say, that the person called the Duke of
Richmond, shall be maintained by the public ? Yet, if common report is true.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

449

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 prerogatives.
If there is any government where prerogatives might with
apparent safety be entrusted to any individual, it is in
the foederal government af 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 particular 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
England, the difference when applied to the latter amounts
to an absurdity. In England the person who exercises 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, accomplish a great
part of the same end. He cannot directly bequeath half the
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 pro
duce of this imposition but a shilling a year, the iniquitous principle would be
still the same ; but when it amounts, as it is said to do, to no less than twenty
thousand pounds per annum, the enormity is too serious to be permitted to
remain. This is one of the effects of monarchy and aristocracy.
In stating 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. — Author.
vol. n. — 29

45° THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [l792
government to Prussia, but he can form a marriage partner
ship that will produce almost the same thing. Under such
circumstances, it is happy for England that she is not situ
ated 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 Parliament,
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 mischief can most 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 constitutions, they will examine with more precision
into the nature and business of that department which is
called the executive. What the legislative and judicial depart
ments 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 the different parts of a 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 legislative. The sovereign au
thority in any country is the power of making laws, and
everything else is an official department.
Next to the arrangement of the principles and the organi
zation of the several parts of a constitution, is the provision
to be made for the support of the persons to whom the nation
shall confide the administration of the constitutional powers.
A nation can have no right to the time and services of any
person at his own expence, whom it may choose to employ
or intrust in any department whatever; neither can any
reason be given for making provision for the support of any
one part of a government and not for the other.

I7v2] RIGHTS OF MAN.

451

But admitting that the honour of being entrusted with
any part of a government is to be considered a sufficient
reward, it ought to be so to every person alike. If the
members of the legislature of any country are to serve at
their own expence that which is called the executive,
whether monarchical or by any other name, ought to serve
in like manner. It is inconsistent to pay the one, and accept
the service of the other gratis.
In America, every department in the government is de
cently provided for ; but no one is extravagantly paid.
Every member of Congress, and of the Assemblies, is allowed
a sufficiency for his expences. Whereas 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 corrup
tion and the other is put into the condition of being cor
rupted. Less than a fourth part of such expence, applied as
it is in America, would remedy a great part of the corruption.
Another reform in the American constitution is the explod
ing all oaths of personality. The oath of allegiance in Amer
ica is to the nation only. The putting any individual as a
figure for a nation is improper. The happiness of a nation
is the superior 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 civic oath, in France, viz., " the nation, the law, and the
king" is improper. If taken at all, it ought to be as in
America, to the 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 a nation, and there
fore is included in 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 degradation of his creation ; or if
taken, as is already mentioned, as figurative of the nation, it
is in this place redundant. But whatever apology may be
made for oaths at the first establishment of a government,
they ought not to be permitted afterwards. If a government

452 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
requires the support of oaths, it is a sign that it is not worth
supporting, and ought not to be supported. Make govern
ment what it ought to be, and it will support itself.
To conclude this part of the subject : — One of the greatest
improvements that have been made for the perpetual secur
ity and progress of constitutional liberty, is the provision
which the new constitutions make for occasionally revising,
altering, and amending them.
The principle upon which Mr, Burke formed his political
creed, that of " binding and controuling posterity to the end
of time, and of renouncing and abdicating the rights of all pos
terity, for ever" is now become too detestable to be made a
subject of debate ; and therefore, I pass it over with no other
notice than exposing it.
Government is but now beginning to be known. Hitherto
it has been the mere exercise of power, which forbad all
effectual enquiry 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 affixed a period for their revision, or laid down
the mode by which improvement 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 accumulating, till they discourage
reformations or provoke revolutions, it is best to provide the
means of regulating them as they occur. The Rights of
Man are the rights of all generations of men, and cannot be
monopolised by any. That which is worth following, will
be followed for the sake of its worth, and it is in this that
its security lies, and not in any conditions with which it may
be encumbered. 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 witlv respect
to constitutions ? The best constitution that could now be
devised, consistent with the condition of the present
moment, may be far short of that excellence which a few

I792l RIGHTS OF MAN.

453

years may afford. There is a morning 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 conditions of nations with respect to each
other will be changed. Man will not be brought up with
the savage idea of considering his species as his enemy,
because the accident of birth gave the individuals existence
in countries distinguished by different names ; and as con
stitutions have always some relation to external as well as
to domestic circumstances, the means of benefitting by every
change, foreign or domestic, should be a part of every con
stitution. We already see an alteration in the national
disposition of England and France towards each other,
which, when we look back to only a few years, is itself a
Revolution. Who could have foreseen, or who could have
believed, that a French National Assembly would ever
have been a popular toast in England, or that a friendly
alliance of the two nations should become the wish of either?
It_shews,._that man, were hejiot-CQrnipted by governments,
is naturally Jhe friend^ ol[ man, and that human nature is not
of itself vicious. That spirit of jealousy and ferocity, which
the governments of the two countries inspired, and which
they rendered subservient to the purpose of taxation, is now
yielding to the dictates of reason, interest, and humanity.
The trade of courts is beginning to be understood, and the
affectation of mystery, with all the artificial sorcery by which
they imposed upon mankind, is on the decline. It has re
ceived its death-wound ; and though it may linger, it will
expire. Government ought to be as much open to improve
ment as anything which appertains to man, instead of which
it has been monopolised from age to age, by the most ignorant
and vicious of the human race. Need we any other proof of
their wretched management, than the excess of debts and
taxes with which every nation groans, and the quarrels into
which they have precipitated the world ? Just emerging
from such a barbarous condition, it is too soon to deter
mine to what extent of improvement government may yet
be carried. For what we can foresee, all Europe may form
but one great Republic, and man be free of the whole.

454 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792

\

CHAPTER V.
WAYS AND MEANS OF IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF EUROPE,
INTERSPERSED WITH MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS.
In contemplating a subject that embraces with equatorial
magnitude the whole region of humanity it is impossible to
confine the pursuit in one single direction. 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 flame has arisen not to
be extinguished. Without consuming, like the Ultima
Ratio Regum, it winds its progress from nation to nation,
and conquers by a silent operation. Man finds himself
changed, he scarcely perceives how. He acquires a knowl
edge 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 be free, it is sufficient that he wills it."
Having in all the preceding parts of this work endeavoured
to establish a system of principles as a basis on which gov
ernments ought to be erected, I shall proceed in this, to the
ways and means of rendering them into practice. But in order
to introduce this part of the subject with more propriety,
and stronger effect, some preliminary observations, deducible
from, or connected with, those principles, are necessary.
Whatever the form or constitution of government may be,
it ought to have no other object than the generalJaafipmess.
When, instead of this, it operates to create and encrease
wretchedness in any of the parts of society, it is on a
wrong system, and reformation is necessity. Customary
language has classed the condition of man under the two
descriptions of civilised and uncivilised life. To the one it
has ascribed felicity and affluence ; to the other hardship
and want. But, however our imagination may be im
pressed by painting and comparison, it is nevertheless true,
that a great portion of mankind, in what are called civilised
countries, are in a state of poverty and wretchedness, far
below the condjtion of~~ah~l"nHian. I speak not of one
country, but of all. It is so in England, it is so all over
Europe. Let us enquire into the cause.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 455
It lies not in any natural defect in the principles of civili
sation, but in preventing those principles having a universal
operation ; the consequence of which is, a perpetual system
of war and expence, that drains the country, and defeats
the general felicity of which civilisation is capable. All the
European governments (France now excepted) are con
structed not on the principle of universal civilisation, 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 uncivilised 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
civilisation of laws, easily civilise together, but governments
being yet in an uncivilised state, and almost continually at
war, they pervert the abundance which civilised life pro
duces to carry on the uncivilised part to a greater extent.
By thus engrafting the barbarism of government upon the
internal civilisation of a country, it draws_from the latter,
and more especially from the poor^jLgreat portion of those
earnings, which shquldjje applied to their own subsistence
and comfort. Apart from all reflections of morality and i
philosophy, it is a melancholy fact that more than one- 1
fourth of the labour of mankind is annually consumed!
by this barbarous system. What has served to continue
this evil, is the pecuniary advantage which all the govern
ments of Europe have found in keeping up this state of un-
civilisation. It affords to them pretences for power, and
revenue, for which there would be neither occasion 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 pos
sibility of much imposition. But when the scene is laid in
the uncivilised contention of governments, the field of pre
tences 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 ap-

456 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
plied to, the purpose of civil government. It is not difficult
to see, that the whole which the actual government does in
this respect, is to enact laws, and that the country adminis
ters and executes them, at its own expence, by means of
magistrates, juries, sessions, 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 govern
ment, or the government of laws, which operates at home,
the other the court or cabinet government, which operates
abroad, on the rude plan of uncivilised 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 a sudden opening of the earth, and totally dis
appear, 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. Revolutions,
then, have for their object a change in the moral condition
of governments, and with this change the burthen of public
taxes will lessen, and civilisation will be left to the enjoy
ment of that abundance, of which it is now deprived.^-Xn
("contemplating the whole of this subject, I extend my. views
into the departfneiit- of commerce. In all my publications,
where the matter would admit, I have been an_adyocate for
commerce, because I am a friend to its effects.- It is a pacific
system, operating to . eotdialise mankind,^ by rendering
nations, as well as individuals, useful to each othei\ As to
the mere theoretical 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, it would extir
pate the system of war, and produce a revolution in the un
civilised state of governments. The invention of commerce
has arisen since those governments began, and is the greatest
approach towards universal civilisation that has yet been
made by any means not immediately flowing from moral
principles. Whatever has a tendency to promote the
civil intercourse of nations by an exchange of benefits,
is a subject as worthy of philosophy as of politics.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 457
Commerce is no other than the traffic of two individuals,
multiplied on a scale of numbers ; and by the same rule
that nature intended for the intercourse of two, she
intended that of all. For this purpose she has distributed
the materials of manufactures and commerce, in various
and distant parts of a nation and of the world ; and as
they cannot be procured by_war so cheaply qr_so commo- I
diously as by commerce, she has rendered the latter the |
means of extirpating the former. As the two are nearly the
opposite of each other, consequently, the uncivilised state of
the European governments is injurious to commerce. Every
kind of destruction or embarrassment serves to lessen the
quantity, and it matters but little in what part of the com
mercial 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 Eng- \
land destroy the commerce of all other nations, she would
most effectually 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 buyer of her own
merchandise. The ability to buy must reside out of herself ;
and, therefore, the prosperity of any commercial nation is
regulated by the prosperity of the rest. If they are poor
she cannot be rich, and her condition, be 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. It is one thing
in the counting-house, in the world it is another. With re
spect to its operation 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 de
stroyed by the destroying 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 former wars, the commerce of England sunk, it

458 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
was because the quantity was lessened everywhere ; and it
now rises, because commerce is in a rising state in every
nation. If England, at this day, imports and exports more
than at any former period, the nations with which she trades
must necessarily do the same ; her imports are their ex
ports, and vice versa. There can be no such thing as a
nation flourishing alone in commerce : she can only partici
pate ; and the destruction of it in any part must necessarily
affect all. When, therefore, governments are at war, the at
tack is made upon a 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
natural operation in consequence of peace. The regular
markets had been destroyed, the channels of trade broken
up, the high road of the seas infested with robbers of every
nation, and the attention of the world called to other ob
jects. Those interruptions have ceased, and peace has re
stored the deranged condition of things to their proper
order. * It is worth remarking that every nation reckons
the balance of trade in its own favour ; and therefore some
thing must be irregular in the common ideas upon this sub
ject. The fact, however, is true, according to what is called
a balance ; and it is from this cause that commerce is univer
sally 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 in 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 calcula
ting, 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, ac-
* In America the increase of commerce is greater in proportion than in Eng
land. It is, at this time, at least one half more than at any period prior to the
revolution. The greatest number of vessels cleared out of the port of Philadel
phia, before the commencement of the war, was between eight and nine
hundred. In the year 1788, the number was upwards of twelve hundred. As
the State of Pennsylvania is estimated at an eighth part of the United States
in population, the whole number of vessels must now be nearly ten thousand.
— Author.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

459

cording to the custom-house balance, the losses at sea, and
by foreign failures, are all reckoned on the side of profit be
cause they appear as exports.
Secondly, 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
true, would soon be injurious. The great support of com
merce consists in the balance being a level of benefits among
all nations.
Two merchants of different nations trading together, will
both become rich, and each makes the balance in his own
favour; consequently, they do not get rich of each other;
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 increases that riches by something
which it procures from another in exchange.
If a merchant in England sends an article of English
manufacture abroad which costs him a shilling at home, and
imports something which sells for two, he makes a balance
of one shilling in his favour ; but this is not gained out of
the foreign nation or the foreign merchant, for he also does
the same by the articles he receives, and neither has the ad
vantage 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 first, and that increased value
is equally divided.
There is no otherwise a balance on foreign than on do
mestic commerce. The merchants of London and New
castle trade on the same principles, 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 Lon
don, and London merchandize has the same at Newcastle.
Though the principal of all commerce is the same, the

460 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
domestic, in a national view, is the part the most beneficial ;
because the whole of the advantages, on both sides, rests
within the nation ; whereas, in foreign commerce, it is only a
participation of one-half.
The most unprofitable of all commerce is that connected
with foreign dominion. To a few individuals it may be
beneficial, merely because it is commerce ; but to the nation
it is a loss. The expence of maintaining dominion more than
absorbs the profits of any trade. It does not increase the
general quantity in the world, but operates to lessen it ; and
as a greater mass would be afloat by relinquishing dominion,
the participation without the expence would be more valu
able than a greater quantity with it.
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 indifferent as to foreign possessions, and other
nations will become the same when they investigate the sub
ject with respect to commerce.
To the expence of dominion is to be added that of navies,
and when the amounts of the two are 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.
1 The idea of having navies for the protection of commerce
1 is delusive. It is putting means of destruction for the
I means of protection. Commerce needs no other protection
jthan 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 uncivilised state of governments, and which it is
its common interest to reform.*
* 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 interest of commerce ; and no man has more wantonly tortured it than
himself. During a period of peace it has been havocked with the calamities of
war. Three times has it been thrown into stagnation, and the vessels un
manned by impressing, within less than four years of peace. — Author.

I792l RIGHTS OF MAN. 46 1
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 government. It is only by each nation reforming its
own, that the whole can be improved, and the full benefit of
reformation enjoyed. 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
immensity of its internal strength, could defy the malig
nancy of foreign despotism. But it is with revolutions as
with commerce, the advantages increase by their becoming
general, and double to either 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,
contrary to all former systems, are agitating, and a common
interest of courts is forming against the common interest of
man. This combination draws a line that runs throughout
Europe, and presents a cause so entirely new as to exclude
all calculations 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. It is not
whether this or that party shall be in or not, or Whig or Tory,
high or low shall prevail ; but whether man shall inherit his
rights, and universal civilisation take place ? Whether the
fruits of his labours shall be enjoyed by himself or consumed
by the profligacy of governments ? Whether robbery shall
be banished from courts, and wretchedness from countries ?
When, in countries that are called civilised, we see age
going to the workhouse 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 ; but there lies hidden from the eye of com
mon observation, a mass of wretchedness, that has scarcely

462 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
any other chance, than to expire in poverty or infamy. Its
entrance into life is marked with the presage of its fate ; and
until this is remedied, it is in vain to punish.
Civil government does not exist in executions ; but in
making such provision for the instruction of youth and the
support of age, as to exclude, as much as possible, profli
gacy from the one and despair from the other. Instead
of this, the resources of a country are lavished upon kings,
upon courts, upon hirelings, impostors 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 within the purlieus of a court. This I
hope to make appear in the progress of this work.
It is the nature of compassion to associate with misfor
tune. In taking up this subject I seek no recompense — I
fear no consequence. Fortified with that proud integrity,
that disdains to triumph or to yield, I will advocate the
Rights of Man.
It is to my advantage that I have served an apprenticeship
to life. I know the value of moral instruction, and I have
seen the danger of the contrary.
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 Terri
ble Privateer, Captain Death. From this adventure I was
happily prevented by the affectionate and moral remon
strance of a good father, who, from his own habits of life,
being of the Quaker profession, must begin to look upon
* Rev. William Knowle, master of the grammar school of Thetford, in
Norfolk. — A uthor.

J792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 463
me as lost. But the impression, much as it effected at the
time, began to wear away, and I entered afterwards in the
King of Prussia Privateer, Captain Mendez, and went with
her to sea. Yet, from such a beginning, and with all the
inconvenience of early life against me, I am proud to say,
that with a perseverence undismayed by difficulties, a disin
terestedness that compelled respect, I have not only con
tributed to raise a new empire in the world, founded on a
new system of government, but I have arrived at an emi
nence in political literature, 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.*
* Politics and self-interest have been so uniformly connected that the world,
from being so often deceived, has aright to be suspicious of public characters,
but with regard to myself I am perfectly easy on this head. I did not, at my
first setting out in public life, nearly seventeen years ago, turn my thoughts to
subjects of government from motives of interest, and my conduct from that
moment to this proves the fact. I saw an opportunity 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 opinion. I thought for myself. The
case was this : —
During the suspension of the old governments in America, both prior to and
at the breaking out of hostilities, I was struck with the order and decorum with
which everything was conducted, and impressed with the idea that a little more
than what society naturally performed was all the government that^as IlSces-
sary^antHhat luunEtfcKy and aristocracy were frauds and impositions upon
mankind. On these principles I published the pamphlet Common Sense. The
success it met with was beyond anything since the invention of printing. I
gave the copyright to every state in the Union, and the demand ran to not less
than one hundred thousand copies. I continued 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 unknown
to me, appointed me Secretary in the Foreign Department. This was agree
able to me, because it gave me the opportunity of seeing into the abilities of
foreign courts, and their manner of doing business. But a misunderstanding
arising between congress and me, respecting one of their commissioners then in
Europe, Mr. Silas Deane, I resigned the office, and declined at the same time
the pecuniary offers made by the Ministers of France and Spain, M. Gerald
and Don Juan Mirralles.
I had by this time so completely gained the ear and confidence of America,
and my own independence was become so visible, as to give me a range in
political writing beyond, perhaps, what any man ever possessed in any country,
and, what is more extraordinary, I held it undiminished to the end of the war,

VOL. 2. — 30

464 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
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 Engltsh Govern
ment.
and enjoy it in the same manner to the present moment. As my object was
not myself, I set out with the determination, and happily with the disposition,
of not being moved by praise or censure, friendship or calumny, nor of being
drawn from my purpose by any personal altercation, and the man who cannot
do this is not fit for a public character.
When the war ended I went from Philadelphia to Borden-Town, on the east
bank of the Delaware, where I have a small place. Congress was at this time
at Prince-Town, fifteen miles distant, and General Washington had taken his
headquarters at Rocky Hill, within the neighborhood of Congress, for the pur
pose of resigning up his commission (the object for which he accepted it being
accomplished), and of retiring to private life. While he was on this business
he wrote me the letter which I here subjoin : — " Rocky-Hill, Sept. 10, 1783.
" I 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 at it.
' ' Your presence may remind Congress of your past services to this country,
and if it is in my power to impress them, command my best exertions with
freedom, as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who entertains a lively
sense of the importance of your works, and who, with much pleasure, subscribes
himself, Your sincere friend, G. Washington."
During the war, in the latter end of the year 1780, I formed to myself a
design of coming over to England, and communicated it to General Greene,
who was then in Philadelphia on his route to the southward, General Washing
ton being then at too great a distance to communicate with immediately. I
was strongly impressed with the idea that if I could get over to England with
out being known, and only remain in safety till I could get out a publication,
that I could open the eyes of the country with respect to the madness and stu
pidity of its Government. I saw that the parties in Parliament 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, under strong apprehen
sions for my safety, wrote very pressingly to me from Annapolis, in Maryland,
to give up the design, which, with some reluctance, I did. Soon after this I
accompanied Colonel Lawrens, son of Mr. Lawrens, who was then in the
Tower, to France on business from Congress. We landed at L'Orient, and
while I remained there, he being gone forward, a circumstance occurred that
renewed my former design. An English packet from Falmouth to New York,

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 465
I begin with charters and corporations. '
It is a perversion of terms to say that a charter gives
rights. It operates by a contrary effect — that of taking
rights away. Rights are inherently in all the inhabitants ;
but charters, by annulling those rights, in the majority,
leave the right, by exclusion, 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 corporation,
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 entitled to without a charter;
and, therefore, all charters have no other than an indirect
negative operation. They do not give rights to A, but they
with the Government dispatches on board, was brought into L'Orient. That
a packet should be taken is no extraordinary thing, but that the dispatches
should be taken with it will scarcely be credited, as they are always slung at
the cabin window in a bag loaded with cannon-ball, and ready to be sunk at a
moment. The fact, however, is as I have stated it, for the dispatches came
into my hands, and I read them. The capture, as I was informed, succeeded
by the following stratagem : — The captain of the " Madame" privateer, who
spoke English, on coming up with the packet, passed himself for the cap
tain of an English frigate, and invited the captain of the packet on board,
which, when done, he sent some of his own hands back, and secured the mail.
But be the circumstance of the capture what it may, I speak with certainty
as to the Government dispatches. They were sent up to Paris to Count
Vergennes, and when Colonel Lawrens and myself returned to America we
took the originals to Congress.
By these dispatches I saw into the stupidity of the English Cabinet far more
than I otherwise could have done, and I renewed my former design. But
Colonel Lawrens was so unwilling to return alone, more especially as, among
other matters, we had a charge of upwards of two hundred thousand pounds
sterling in money, that I gave in to his wishes, and finally gave up my plan.
But I am now certain that if I could have executed it that it would not have
been altogether unsuccessful. — Author.
1 At a Society for Political Inquiries which met at Dr. Franklin's house, 1787.
(Philadelphia), Paine read a paper " On the inexpediency of incorporating,
towns.'' (" Penn. Hist. Soe. Memoirs," 1840.) The essay has not been dis
covered . — Editor.

466 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
make a difference in favour of A by taking away the right
of B, and consequently are instruments of injustice.
But charters and corporations have a more extensive evil
effect than what relates merely to elections. They are
sources of endless contentions in the places where they exist,
and they lessen the common rights of national society. A
native of England, under the operation 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 Frenchman is free of France, and an Ameri
can of America. His rights are circumscribed to the town,
and, in some cases, to the parish of his birth ; and all other
parts, though in his native land, are to him as a foreign
country. To acquire a residence in these, he must undergo
a local naturalisation by purchase, or he is forbidden or ex
pelled the place. This species of feudality is kept up to
aggrandise the corporations at the ruin of towns ; and the
effect is visible.
The generality of corporation towns are in a state of soli
tary decay, and prevented from further ruin only by some
circumstance in their situation, such as a navigable river, or
a plentiful surrounding country. As population is one of
the chief sources of wealth (for without it land itself has no
value), everything which operates to prevent it must lessen
the value of property ; and as corporations have not only
this tendency, but directly this effect, they cannot but be in
jurious. If any policy were to be followed, instead of that
of general freedom, to every person to settle where he chose
(as in France or America) it would be more consistent to give
encouragement to new comers than to preclude their ad
mission by exacting premiums from them.*
The persons most immediately interested in the abolition
of corporations are the inhabitants of the towns where cor-
* It is difficult to account for the origin of charter and corporation towns,
unless we suppose them to have arisen out of, or been connected with, some
species of garrison service. The times in which they began justify this idea.
The generality of those towns have been garrisons, and the corporations were
charged with the care of the gates of the towns, when no military garrison was
present. Their refusing or granting admission to strangers, which has produced

I792l RIGHTS OF MAN. 467
porations are established. The instances of Manchester,
Birmingham, and Sheffield shew, by contrast, the injuries
which those Gothic institutions are to property and com
merce. A few examples may be found, such as that of Lon
don, whose natural and commercial advantage, owing to its
situation on the Thames, is capable of bearing up against the
political evils of a corporation ; but in almost all other cases
the fatality is too visible to be doubted or denied.
Though the whole nation is not so directly affected by the
depression of property in corporation towns as the inhabi
tants themselves, it partakes of the consequence. By lessen
ing the value of property, the quantity of national commerce
is curtailed. Every man is a customer in proportion to his
ability ; and as all parts of a nation trade with each other,
whatever affects any of the parts must necessarily communi
cate to the whole.
As one of the Houses of the English Parliament is, in a
great measure, made up of elections from these corporations ;
and as it is unnatural that a pure stream should flow from a
foul fountain, its vices are but a continuation of the vices of
its origin. A man of moral honour and good political prin
ciples cannot submit 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 consti
tute a just legislator : and being thus disciplined to corruption
by the mode of entering into Parliament, it is not to be ex
pected that the representative should be better than the man.
Mr. Burke, in speaking of the English representation, has
advanced as bold a challenge as ever was given in the days
of chivalry. " Our representation," says he, " has been found
perfectly adequate to all the purposes for which a representa
tion of the people can be desired or devised." " I defy,"
continues he, " the enemies of our constitution to shew the
the custom of giving, selling, and buying freedom, has more of the nature of
garrison authority than civil government. Soldiers are free of all corporations
throughout the nation, by the same propriety 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 corporation towns throughout the nation.—
A uthor.

468 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
contrary." — This declaration 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 lie,
and therefore I proceed in the next place to the 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. It amounts to a combination of persons in one
common interest. No better 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
1 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 and separate representation from the general
1 interest of a nation ? The only use to be made of this
\ power (and which it has always made,) is to ward off taxes
Ifrom itself, and throw the burthen upon such articles of con-
fsumption by which itself would be least affected.
That this has been the consequence, (and will always be
•the consequence) of constructing governments on combina
tions, is evident with respect to England, from the history
W its taxes.
Notwithstanding taxes have encreased and multiplied upon
every article of common consumption, the land-tax, which
more particularly affects this " pillar," has diminished. In
1778 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.
* See Sir John Sinclair's History of the Revenue. The land tax in 1646 was
.£2,473, 4gg.— Author.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 469
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 aera nearly thirteen millions annually
of new taxes have been thrown upon consumption. The
consequence of which has been a constant encrease in the
number and wretchedness of the poor, and in the amount
of the poor-rates. Yet here again the burthen does not fall
in equal proportions on the aristocracy with the rest of the
community. Their residences, whether in town or country,
are not mixed with the habitations of the poor. They live
apart from distress, and the expence of relieving it. It is in
manufacturing towns and labouring villages that those bur
thens 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
contrived, as to give an exemption to this pillar, thus stand
ing in its own defence. The tax upon beer brewed for sale
does not affect the aristocracy, who brew their own beer
free from this duty. It falls only on those who have not
conveniency or ability to brew, and who must purchase it in
small quantities. But what will mankind think of the jus
tice 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 propor
tion 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 histories of revenues.
This is one of the consequences- resulting from a house of
legislation, composed on the ground of a combination of
common interest ; for whatever their separate politics as to
parties may be, in this they are united. Whether a combina
tion acts to raise the price of any article for sale, or the rate
of wages; or whether it acts to throw taxes from itself
upon another class of the community, the principle and the

470 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
effect are the same ; and if the one be illegal, it will be diffi
cult to shew that the other ought to exist.
It is no use to say, that taxes are first proposed in the
house of commons ; for as the other house has always a
negative, it can always defend itself ; and it would be ridic
ulous to suppose that its acquiescence in the measures to be
proposed were not understood before hand. Besides which,
it has obtained so much influence by borough-traffic, and so
many of its relations and connexions are distributed on both
sides the commons, as to give it, besides an absolute nega
tive in one house, a preponderancy in the other, in all mat
ters of common concern.
> It is difficult to discover what is meant by the landed
I interest, if it does not mean a combination of aristocratical
^landholders, opposing their own pecuniary interest to that
! of the farmer, and every branch of trade,~commerce, and
manufacture In all other respects it is the only interest
that needs no partial protection. It enjoys the general pro
tection of the world. Every 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
support. 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 rejoice. It is a
prosperity that excludes all envy ; and this cannot be said
of anything 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 property would continue,

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

471

and the same ploughing, sowing, and reaping would go on.
The aristocracy are not the farmers who work the land, and
raise the 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 collect the honey nor form
the hive, but exist only for lazy enjoyment.
Mr. Burke, in his first essay, called aristocracy " the Co
rinthian capital of polished society." Towards compleating
the figure, he has now added the pillar ; but still the base is
wanting ; and whenever a nation chuse to act a Samson, not
blind, but bold, down will go the temple of Dagon, the
Lords and the Philistines.
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 burthen of taxation, arises from admitting it in
one case, and not in all. Had there been a house of farm
ers, there had been no game laws ; or a house of merchants
and manufacturers, the taxes had neither been so unequal
nor so excessive. It is 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 fol
lowing reasons :
First, They consume more of the productive taxable arti
cles, in proportion to their property, than those of large
estates. Secondly, Their residence is chiefly in towns, and their
property in houses ; and the encrease of the poor-rates,
occasioned by taxes on consumption, is in much greater
proportion than the land-tax has been favoured. In Bir
mingham, the poor-rates are not less than seven shillings in
the pound. From this, as is already observed, the aristoc
racy are in a great measure exempt.
These are but a part of the mischiefs flowing from the
wretched scheme of an house of peers.

472 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
As a combination, it can always throw a considerable
portion of taxes from itself ; and as an hereditary house,
accountable to nobody, it resembles a rotten borough,
whose consent is to be courted 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 insignificant
nominal office to which a salary is annexed, paid out of the
public taxes, and which avoids the direct appearance of
corruption. Such situations are derogatory to the character
of man ; and where they can be submitted to, honour can
not reside.
To all these are to be added the numerous dependants,
the long list of younger branches and distant relations, who
are to be provided for at the public expence : in short, were
an estimation to be made of the charge of aristocracy to a
nation, 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 thousand poor and aged persons. Is it, then,
any wonder, that under such a system of government, taxes
and rates have multiplied to their present extent ?
In stating these matters, I speak an open and disinter
ested language, dictated by no passion but that of humanity.
To me, who have not only refused offers, because I thought
them improper, but have declined rewards I might with
reputation have accepted, it is no wonder that meanness and
imposition appear disgustful. 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.1 1 The motto of the Liberator (Boston, U. S., Jan. 1, 1831) was : "Our
country is the world, our countrymen are all mankind." In adopting this
motto Garrison was not aware of Paine's sentence above, nor that Paine had
been a pioneer in the cause of emancipation in America. The facts were
pointed out to me by one of Mr. Garrison's sons. See my " Life of Paine,"
vol. i., p. 52 — Editor.

\

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

473

Mr. Burke, in speaking of the aristocratical law of primo
geniture, says, " it is the standing law of our landed inheri
tance ; and which, without question, has a tendency, and I
think," continues he, " a happy tendency, to preserve a char
acter of weight and consequence."
Mr. Burke may call this law what he pleases, but human
ity and impartial reflection will denounce it as a law of brutal
injustice. 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 civilisation.
As to its preserving a character of zveight and consequence,
the case appears to me directly the reverse. It is an attaint
upon character ; a sort of privateering on family property.
It may have weight among dependent tenants, but it gives
none on a scale of national, and much less of universal char
acter. 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 called consequence, in the world, than any
one in Mr. Burke's catalogue of aristocrats.
Having thus glanced at some of the defects of the two
houses of parliament, I proceed to what is called the crown,
upon which I shall be very concise.
It signifies a nominal office of a million sterling a year,
the business of which consists in receiving 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 hood-winked, and held in superstitious igno
rance by some bugbear or other; and what is called the
crown answers this purpose, 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.

474 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. L*792
It has been customary to call the crown the executive
power, and the custom is continued, though the reason has
ceased. It was called the executive, because the person whom it
signified used, formerly, to act 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, is what was called the executive
and, consequently, one or other of the terms is re
dundant, and one of the offices useless. When we speak
of the crown now, it means nothing ; it signifies neither
a judge nor a general : besides which it is the laws that
govern, and not the man. The old terms are kept up,
to give an appearance of consequence to empty forms;
and the only effect they have is that of increasing ex
pences. 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. Either, therefore, the people of
former times were more watchful over government than
1 The two paragraphs preceding this were omitted by Paine in the cheap
edition (Symonds, 1792) with the following in parenthesis : " Those two short
paragraphs are taken into the information as prosecutable matter ; but on what
ground such a prosecution can be supported I am at a loss to discover. Every
part of which a government is composed must be alike open to examination
and investigation ; and where this is not the case the country is not in a state
of freedom ; for it is only by the free and rational exercise of this right, that
errors, impositions, and absurdities can be detected and remedied either in the
parts severally, or in the whole. — If there be any part in a government on
which the exercise of this right ought to be more fully insisted upon by a nation
than on another part, it is on that part for which a nation pays the most money,
and which, in England, is called the crown."
It may be noted that the two prosecuted paragraphs might now be quoted by
conservatism in favour of the English monarchy, since Paine agrees that it is
¦'the laws that govern, and not the man. Practically, he regards retention of
the throne as merely a question of expense. — Editor.

*792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

475

those of the present, or government was administered with
less extravagance.
It is now seven hundred years since the Norman conquest,
and the establishment of what is called the crown. Taking
this portion of time in seven separate periods of one hundred
years each, the amount of annual taxes, at each period, will
be as follows —
Annual taxes by William the Conqueror, beginning in the year 1066. .,£400,000
Annual taxes at 100 years from the conquest (1166)  200,000
Annual taxes at 200 years from the conquest (1266)  150,000
Annual taxes at 300 years from the conquest (1366)  130,000
Annual taxes at 400 years from the conquest (1466)  100,000
These statements and those which follow, are taken from
Sir John Sinclair's History of the Revenue ; by which it ap
pears, that taxes continued decreasing for four hundred years,
at the expiration of which time they were reduced three-
fourths, viz., from four hundred thousand pounds to one
hundred thousand. The people of England of the present
day, have a traditionary and historical idea of the bravery
of their ancestors ; but whatever their virtues or their vices
might have been, they certainly were a people who would
not be imposed upon, and who kept governments in awe as
to taxation, if not as to principle. Though they were not
able to expel the monarchical usurpation, they restricted it to
a republican economy of taxes.
Let us now review the remaining three hundred years.
Annual amount of taxes at 500 years from the conquest (156O)  £500,000
Annual amount of taxes at 600 years from the conquest (1666)  1,800,000
Annual amount of taxes at the present time (1791)  17,000,000
The difference between the first four hundred years and
the last three, is so astonishing, as to warrant an opinion,
that thejiajion^jcharact^rjpfthe English has changed. It
would have been impossible to have dragooned the former
English, into the excess of taxation that now exists ; and
when it is considered that the pay of the army, the navy, and
of all the revenue officers, is the same now as it was about a
hundred years ago, when the taxes were not above a tenth
part of what they are at present, it appears impossible to ac-

476 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
count for the enormous increase and expenditure on any
other ground, than extravagance, corruption, and intrigue.*
With the Revolution of 1688, and more so since the Han
over succession, came the destructive system of continental
intrigues, and the rage for foreign wars and foreign do
minion ; systems of such secure mystery that the expences
admit of no accounts ; a single line stands for millions. To
what excess taxation might have extended, had not the
* 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 on 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 valour. 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 estate or condition, on poor as well as,
rich, above the age of fifteen years. If any favour was shewn in the law it
was to the rich rather than to 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. Poll
taxes had always been odious, but this being also oppressive and unjust, it excited
as it naturally must, universal detestation among the poor and middle classes.
The person known by the name of Wat Tyler, whose proper name was Walter,
and a tiler by trade, lived at Deptford. The gatherer of the poll tax, on coming
to hfc house, demanded tax for one of his daughters, whom Tyler declared was
under the age of fifteen. The tax-gatherer insisted on 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. This circumstance served to bring the discontent to an issue. The inhabi
tants of the neighborhood espoused the cause of Tyler, who in a few days was
joined, according to some histories, by upwards of fifty thousand men, and chosen
their chief. With this force he marched to London, to demand an abolition of the
tax and a redress of other grievances. The Court, finding itself in a forlorn con
dition, 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 dispositions to redress the oppressions. While Richard and Tyler
were in conversation on these matters, 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. Tyler ap
pears to have been an intrepid disinterested man with respect to himself. All
his proposals made to Richard were on a 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.
If the Barons merited a monument to be erected at Runnymede, Tyler merited!
one in Smithfield. — Author.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

477

French revolution contributed 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 countries, it is of as much
importance to England as to France ; and, if properly im
proved to all the advantages of which it is capable, and to
which it leads, deserves as much celebration in one country
as the other.
In pursuing this subject, I shall begin with the matter that
first presents itself, that of lessening the burthen of taxes ;
and shall then add such matter and propositions, respecting
the three countries of England, France, and America, as the
present prospect of things appears to justify : I mean, an
alliance of the three, for the purposes that will be mentioned
in their proper place.
What has happened may happen again. By the state
ment 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 begin
ning, as may accomplish that end in less time than in the
former case.
The amount of taxes for the year ending at Michaelmas
1788, was as follows: Land-tax, £1,950,000; Customs,
3,789,274; Excise (including old and new malt), 6,751,727;
Stamps, 1,278,214; Miscellaneous taxes and incidents,
1,803,755 : total, 15,572,970.
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. (The expence of collection and the drawbacks, which
together amount to nearly two millions, are paid out of the
gross amount ; and the above is the nett sum paid into the
exchequer). This sum of seventeen millions is applied to two
different purposes ; the one to pay the interest of the Na
tional Debt, the other to the current expences of each year.
About nine millions are appropriated to the former ; and the
remainder, being nearly eight millions, to the latter. As to

478 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [^92
the million, said to be applied to the reduction of the debt,
it is so much like paying with one hand and taking out with
the other, as not to merit much notice. It happened, for
tunately for France, that she possessed national domains for
paying off her debt, and thereby lessening her taxes ; but as
this is not the case with England, her reduction of taxes can
only take place by reducing the current expences, which
may now be done to the amount of four or five millions
annually, as will hereafter appear. When this is accom
plished it will more than counter-balance the enormous
charge of the American war ; and the saving will be from
1 the same source from whence the evil arose. As to the
national debt, however heavy the interest may be in taxes,
yet, as it serves to keep alive a capital useful to commerce,
it balances by its effects a considerable part of its own
weight ; and as the quantity of gold and silver is, by some
means or other, short of its proper proportion, being not
more than twenty millions, whereas it should be sixty,
(foreign intrigue,, foreign wars, foreign dominions, will in a
great measure account for the deficiency), it would, besides
the injustice, be bad policy to extinguish a capital that serves
to supply that defect. But with respect to the current ex
pense, whatever is saved therefrom is gain. The excess
may serve to keep corruption alive, but it has no re-action
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 Revo
lution. Whatever serves to expose the intrigue and lessen
\ the influence of courts, by lessening taxation, will be unwel-
I come to those who feed upon the spoil. Whil§l_the_clamour
of Frengh_ intrigue, arbitrary power, popery, and wooden
shoes could be kep,t-up^jEe~nation was 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 England, Franee, and America for the purposes
hereafter to be mentioned, the national expences of France
and England may consequently be lessened. The same

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

479

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 neces
sarily be fitted to a common and correspondent principle.
Confidence can never take place while an hostile disposition
remains in either, or where mystery and secrecy on one side
is opposed to candour and openness on the other.
These matters admitted, the national expences 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 suc
cession, and also to the Revolution of 1688.* The first
instance that presents itself, antecedent to those dates, is in
* I happened to be in England at the celebration of the centenary of the
Revolution of 1688. The characters of William and Mary have always
appeared to be detestable ; the one seeking to destroy his uncle, and the other
her father, to get possession of power themselves ; yet, as the nation was dis
posed 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 jobb, and who, besides
what he otherwise got, charged six hundred thousand pounds for the expence of
the fleet that brought him from Holland. George the First acted the same
close-fisted part as William had done, and bought the Duchy of Bremen with
the money he got from England, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds over
and above his pay as king, and having thus purchased it at the expence of
England, added it to his Hanoverian dominions for his own private profit. In
fact, every nation that does not govern itself is governed as a jobb. England
has been the~prey~oFjob"b~s ever "since the Revolution. — Author.
For the above footnote the following was substituted by Paine in the cheap
edition (Symonds, 1792.):
" On page 116 of the original edition of this work is a note in which similar
remarks are made on the characters of William and Mary, the one fighting
against his uncle, and the other against her own father, as have been made by
other writers. Dr. Johnson, I believe, even while he was a pensioner of the
present court, expressed himself in stronger terms of disapprobation than I have
done. Why a change of policy has now taken place, of prosecuting at this
time, what was permitted and apparently encouraged at another time, the per
sons concerned can best explain. In the same note it is stated that William
charged six hundred thousand pounds for the expences of the Dutch fleet that
brought him from Holland ; and that George the First purchased the Duchies
of Bremen and Verden with two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, which he
got from England, and added them to his Hanoverian dominions for his own
use. The note in which these matters are contained are put into the prosecu
tion ; but for what purpose I do not discover.
" The bill of costs delivered in for the Dutch fleet, as stated in Sir John Sin-

480 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
the very wasteful and profligate times of Charles the Second ;
at which time England and France acted as allies. If I have
chosen a period of great extravagance, it will serve to shew
modern extravagance in a still worse light ; especially as the
pay of the navy, the army, and the revenue officers has not
encreased since that time.
The peace establishment was then as follows (see Sir John
Sinclair's History of the Revenue) : —
Navy  ,  £300,000
Army  212,000
Ordnance  40,000
Civil List  462,115
£1,014,115
The parliament, however, settled the whole annual peace
establishment at $1,200,000.* If we go back to the time of
Elizabeth the amount of all the taxes was but half a million,
yet the nation sees nothing during that period that re
proaches it with want of consequence.
All circumstances, then, taken together, arising from the
French revolution, from the approaching harmony and re
ciprocal interest of the two nations, the abolition of the
court intrigue on both sides, and the progress of knowledge
in the science of government, the annual expenditure might
be put back to one million and a half, viz : —
clair's History of the Revenue (Part the third, p. 40) was 686.500/, and was
reduced to 600,000 by parliament. And in 1701 the House of Commons came
to a resolution, by which it appears that William was not very scrupulous or
very careful in his expenditure of English money. The resolution is as fol
lows : — ' That it is notorious that many millions of money had been given to his
majesty [meaning the said William] for the service of the public, which remain
yet unaccounted for.' See the Journal.
" As to the purchase of Bremen and Verden, with the money obtained from
England, by George the First, the Journals of Parliament will prove the fact,
and the opposition it met with in parliament will shew the manner in which it
was very generally considered by the faction."
j * Charles, like his predecessors and successors, finding that war was the
harvest of governments, engaged in a war with the Dutch, the expence of which
jencreased the annual expenditure to £1,800,000, as stated under the date of
I1666 ; but the peace establishment was but £1,200,000. — Author.

*792J RIGHTS OF MAN. 481
Navy  £500,000
Army  500,000
Expences of Government  500,000
£1,500,000
Even this sum is six times greater than the expences of
government are in America, yet the civil internal govern
ment in England (I mean that administered by means of
quarter sessions, juries and assize, and which, in fact, is
nearly the whole, and performed by the nation), is less ex-
pence upon the revenue, than the same species and portion
of government is in America. v
It is time that nations should be rational, and not be
governed 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 a huntsman. Man
ought to have pride, or shame enough to blush at being
thus imposed upon, 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 has not yet accus
tomed himself to encourage and communicate. Restrained
by something that puts on the character of prudence, he
acts the hypocrite upon himself as well as to others. It is,
however, curious to observe how soon this spell can be dis
solved. A single expression, boldly conceived and uttered,
will sometimes put a whole company into their proper
feelings : and whole nations are acted on in the same
manner. As to the offices of which any civil government may be
composed, it matters but little by what names they are
described. In the rotine of business, as before observed,
whether a man be styled a president, a king, an emperor, a
senator, or anything else, it is impossible that any service
he can perform, can merit from a nation more than ten thou
sand pounds a year ; and as no man should be paid beyond
his services, so every man of a proper heart will not accept
more. Public money ought to be touched with the most

482 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
scrupulous consciousness of honour. It is not the produce
of riches only, but of the hard earnings of labour and pov
erty. It is drawn even from the bitterness of want and
misery. Not a 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 constitu
ents, as to offer General Washington, as president of Amer
ica, a million a year, he would not, and he could not, accept
it. His sense of honour is of another kind. It has cost
England almost seventy millions sterling, to maintain a fam
ily imported from abroad, of very inferior capacity to thou
sands in the nation ; and scarcely a year has passed that has
not produced some new mercenary application. Even the
physicians' bills have been sent to the public to be paid. No
wonder that jails are crowded, and taxes and poor rates en
creased. Under such systems, nothing is to be looked for
but what has already happened ; and as to reformation,
whenever it come, it must be from the nation, and not from
the government.
To shew that the sum of five hundred thousand pounds is
more than sufficient to defray all the expences of the gov
ernment, exclusive of navies and armies, the following esti
mate is added, for any country, of the same extent as Eng
land. In the first place, three hundred representatives fairly
elected, are sufficient for all the purposes to which legislation
can apply, and preferable to a larger 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 honourable of all stations, the allowance made
to it is merely to defray the expence which the representa
tives 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-attendance, the
expence, if the whole number attended for six months, each year,
would be  £75.000

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 483
The official departments cannot reasonably exceed the following
number, with the salaries annexed : —
Three offices at ten thousand pounds each  £30,000
Ten ditto, at five thousand pounds each  50,000
Twenty ditto, at two thousand pounds each  40,000
Forty ditto, at one thousand pounds each  40,000
Two hundred ditto, at five hundred pounds each  100,000
Three hundred ditto, at two hundred pounds each  60,000
Five hundred ditto, at one hundred pounds each  50,000
Seven hundred ditto, at seventy five pounds each  52,500
£497-500
If a nation chuse, it can deduct four per cent, from all
offices, and make one of twenty thousand per annum.
All revenue officers are paid out of the monies they col
lect, and therefore, are not in this estimation.
The foregoing is not offered as an exact detail of offices.
but to shew the number of rate of salaries which five hun
dred thousand pounds will support ; and it will, on experi
ence, be found impracticable to find business sufficient to
justify even this expence. 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, etc.,
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 as a sufficient
peace establishment for all the honest purposes of govern
ment, which is three hundred thousand pounds more than
the peace establishment in the profligate and prodigal times
of Charles the Second (notwithstanding, as has been already
observed, the pay and salaries of the army, navy, and rev
enue officers, continue the same as at that period), there will
remain a surplus of upwards of six millions out of the pres
ent current expences. The question 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 im
possibility of separating them suddenly.
First. Because the articles now on hand are already

484 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
charged with the duty, and the reduction cannot take place
on the present stock.
Secondly. 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 con
sumer, 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.
This being the condition of a great part of the taxes, it
will be necessary to look for such others as are free from this
embarrassment 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 sum which he pays. The national amount of
the whole of the poor-rates is not positively known, but can
be procured. Sir John Sinclair, in his History of the Rev
enue has stated it at £2, 100,587. A considerable part of
which is expended in litigations, in which the poor, instead
of being relieved, are tormented. The expence, however, is
the same to the parish from whatever cause it arises.
In Birmingham, the amount of poor-rates is fourteen thou
sand pounds a year. This, though a large sum, is moderate,
compared with the population. Birmingham is said to con
tain seventy thousand souls, and on a proportion of seventy
thousand to fourteen thousand pounds poor-rates, the na
tional amount of poor-rates, taking the population of Eng
land as seven millions, would be but one million four hundred
thousand pounds. It is, therefore, most probable, that the
population of Birmingham is over-rated. Fourteen thousand
pounds is the proportion upon fifty thousand souls, taking
two millions of poor-rates, as the national amount.
Be it, however, what it may, it is no other than the con
sequence of excessive burthen of taxes, for, at the time
when the taxes were very low, the poor were able to main-

[792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

485

tain themselves ; and there were no poor-rates* In the
present state of things a laboring man, with a wife or 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 articles which he buys,
and he thinks only of their dearness ; but as the taxes take
from him, at least, a fourth part of his yearly earnings, he is
consequently disabled from providing for a family, espe
cially, if himself, or any of them, are afflicted with sickness.
The first step, therefore, of practical relief, would be to
abolish the poor-rates entirely, and in lieu thereof, to make
a remission of taxes to the poor of double the amount of
the present poor-rates, viz., four millions annually out of the
surplus taxes. By this measure, the poor would be benefited
two millions, and the house-keepers two millions. This
alone would be equal to a reduction of one hundred and
twenty millions of the National Debt, and consequently
equal to the whole expence of the American War.
It will then remain to be considered, which is the most
effectual mode of distributing this remission of four millions.
It is easily seen, that the poor are generally composed
of large families of children, and old people past their labour.
If these two classes are provided for, the 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 sup
port, the number will be one million four hundred thousand.
Of this number, one hundred and forty thousand will be
aged poor, as will be hereafter shewn, and for which a dis
tinct 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
* Poor rates began about the time of Henry VIII., when the taxes
began to encrease, and they have encreased as the taxes encreased ever since. —
Author.

486 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
hundred and fifty-two thousand families, rendered poor from
the expence of children and the weight of taxes.
The number of children under fourteen years of age, in
each of those families, will be found to be about five to
every two families ; some having two, and others three ; some
one, and others four : some none, and others five ; but it
rarely happens that more than five are under fourteen years
of age, and after this age they are capable of service or of
being apprenticed.
Allowing five children (under fourteen years) to every two
families, The number of children will be  630,000
The number of parents, were they all living, would be. . . . 504,000
It is certain, that if the children are provided for, the par
ents are relieved "of consequence, because it is from the
expence 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
jjrgceed 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 ; enjoin
ing the parents of such children to send them to school, to
learn reading, writing, and common arithmetic ; the minis
ters of every parish, of every denomination to certify jointly
to an office, for that purpose, that this duty is performed.
The amount of this expence will be,
For six hundred and thirty thousand children at £4 per
annum each  £2,520,000
By adopting this method, not only the poverty of the
parents will be relieved, but ignorance will be banished from
the rising generation, and the number of poor will hereafter
become less, because their abilities, by the aid of education,
will be greater. Many a youth, with good natural genius,
who is apprenticed to a mechanical trade, such as a carpen
ter, joiner, millwright, shipwright, blacksmith, etc., is pre-

*792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 487

vented getting forward the whole of his life from the want
of a little common education when a boy.
I now proceed to the case of the aged.
I divide age into two classes. First, the approach of age,
beginning at fifty. Secondly, old age commencing at sixty.
At fifty, though the mental faculties of man are in full
vigor, and his judgment better than at any preceding date,
the bodily powers for laborious life are on the decline. He
cannot bear the same quantity of fatigue as at an earlier
period. He begins to earn less, and is less capable of
enduring wind and weather ; and in those more retired
employments where much sight is required, he fails apace,
and sees himself, like an old horse, beginning to be turned
adrift. At sixty his labour ought to be over, at least from direct
necessity. It is painful to see old age working itself to
death, in what are called civilised countries, for daily bread.
To form some judgment of the number of those above
fifty years of age, I have several times counted the persons
I met in the streets of London, men, women, and children,
and have generally found that the average is about one in
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
work-shops as apprentices. Taking, then, sixteen for a
divisor, the whole number of persons in England 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 gross number
will be husbandmen, common labourers, journeymen of
every trade and their wives, sailors, and disbanded soldiers,
worn out servants of both sexes, and poor widows.
There will be also a considerable number of middling
tradesmen, who having lived decently in the former part of
life, begin, as age approaches, to lose their business, and at
last fall to decay.
Besides these there will be constantly thrown off from the
revolutions of that wheel which no man can stop nor regu-

488 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
late, a number from every class of life connected with com
merce and adventure.
To provide for all those accidents, and whatever else may
befal, I take the number of persons who, at one time or
other of their lives, after fifty years of age, may feel it
necessary or comfortable to be better supported, than they
can support themselves, and that not as a matter of grace
and favour, but of right, at one-third of the whole number,
which is one hundred and forty thousand, as stated in a
previous page, and for whom a distinct provision was pro
posed to be made. If there be more, society, notwithstand
ing the shew and pomposity of government, is in a deplorable
condition in England.
Of this one hundred and forty thousand, I take one half,
seventy thousand, to be of the age of fifty and under sixty,
and the other half to be sixty years and upwards. Having
thus ascertained the probable proportion of the number of
aged persons, I proceed to the mode of rendering their
condition comfortable, which is :
To pay to every such person of the age of fifty years, and
I until he shall arrive at the age of sixty, the sum of six
pounds per annum out of the surplus taxes, and ten pounds
per annum during life after the age of sixty. The expence
of which will be,
Seventy thousand persons, at £6 per annum  £420,000
Seventy thousand ditto, at £10 per annum  700,000

£1,120,000
This support, as already remarked, is not of the nature of
a charity but of a right. Every person in England, male
and female, pays on an average in taxes two pounds eight
shillings and six pence per annum from the day of his (or
her) birth ; and, if the expence of collection be added, he
pays two pounds eleven shillings and sixpence; conse
quently, at the end of fifty years he has paid one hundred
and twenty-eight pounds fifteen shillings ; and at sixty one
hundred and fifty-four pounds ten shillings. Converting,
therefore, his (or her) individual tax in a tontine, the money

1792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 489

he shall receive after fifty years is but little more than the
legal interest of the nett money he has paid ; the rest is
made up from those whose circumstances do not require
them to draw such support, and the capital in both cases
defrays the expences of government. It is on this ground
that I 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 per
sons be rendered comfortable, or that a million a year of
public money be expended on any one individual, and him ,
often of the most worthless or insignificant character? Let
reason and justice, let honor and humanity, let even hypoc
risy, sycophancy and Mr. Burke, let George, let Louis, Leo
pold, Frederic, Catherine, Cornwallis, or Tippoo Saib,
answer the question.*
The sum thus remitted to the poor will be,
To two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor families,
containing six hundred and thirty thousand children. . . . £2,520,000
To one hundred and forty thousand aged persons  1,120,000
£3,640,000
There will then remain three hundred and sixty thousand
* Reckoning the taxes by families, five to a family, each family pays on an
average £12 17s. 6d. per annum. To this sum are to be added the 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 being housekeepers, 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 make the whole average amount of taxes and
rates £14 17s. 6d. For six persons £17 17s. For seven 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 it is daily
encreasing, is five shillings per head, men, women, and children. The differ
ence, therefore, between the two governments is as under :—
England America
£ ». d. £ s. d.
For a family of five persons  14 17 6 150
For a family of six persons  17 17 o 1 10 o
For a family of seven persons  20 16 6 1 15 o
— Author.

49° THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
pounds out of the four millions, part of which may be ap
plied as follows : —
<y 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 condition than if their parents were actually poor-
A nation under a well-regulated government should permit
none to remain uninstructed. It is monarchical and aristo-
cratical government only that requires ignorance for its
support. 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 expense 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
instituted and best principled government may devise, there
will 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 immediately on the birth
* Public schools do not answer the general purpose of the poor. They are
chiefly in corporation towns from which the country towns and villages are
excluded, or, if admitted, the distance occasions a great loss of time. Educa
tion, to be useful to the poor, should be on the spot, and the best method, I
believe, to accomplish this is to enable the parents to pay the expenses them
selves. There are always persons of both sexes to be found in every village,
especially when growing into years, capable of such an undertaking. Twenty
children at ten shillings each (and that not more than six months each year)
would be as much as some livings amount to in the remotest parts of England,
and there are often distressed clergymen's widows to whom such an income
would be acceptable. Whatever is given on this account to children answers
two purposes. To them it is education — to those who educate them it is a
livelihood. — Author.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

49 1

of a child, to every woman who should make the demand,
and none will make it whose circumstances do not require it,
it might relieve a great deal of instant distress.
There are about two hundred thousand births yearly in
England ; 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 manner. This would not exceed the sum
of £20,000.
Also twenty thousand pounds to be appropriated to defray
the funeral expences 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. y
I shall finish this part of the subject with a plan adapted
to the particular condition of a metropolis, such as London.
Cases are continually occurring in a metropolis, different
from those which occur in the country, and for which a differ
ent, or rather an additional, mode of relief is necessary. In
the country, 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 is no such thing
in the country as persons, in the literal sense of the word,
starved to death, or dying with cold from the want of a lodg
ing. Yet such cases, and others equally as miserable, happen
in London.
Many a youth comes up to London full of expectations,
and with little or no money, and unless he get immediate
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, are in a still worse condition ;
and servants long out of place are not much better off. In
short, a world of little cases is continually arising, which busy
or affluent life knows not of, to open the first door to distress.
Hunger is not among the postponable wants, and a day,
even a few hours, in such a condition is often the crisis of a
life of ruin.
These circumstances which are the general cause of the

492 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
little thefts and pilferings that lead to greater, may be pre
vented. There yet remain twenty thousand pounds out of
the four millions 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 will then be :
First, — To erect two or more buildings, or take some al
ready 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.
Secondly, — To receive all who shall come, without enquir
ing who or what they are. The only condition to be, that
for so much, or so many hours' work, each person shall re
ceive so many meals of wholesome food, and a warm lodg
ing, at least as good as a barrack. 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 a time, or come as often
as he chuse, on these conditions.
If each person staid three months, it would assist by rota
tion twenty-four thousand persons annually, though the real
number, at all times, would be but six thousand. By estab
lishing an asylum of this kind, such persons to whom tem
porary distresses occur, would have an opportunity to recruit
themselves, and be enabled to look out for better employ
ment. Allowing that their labor paid but one half the expence
of supporting them, after reserving a portion of their earn
ings for themselves, the sum of forty thousand pounds addi
tional would defray all other charges for even a greater
number than six thousand.
The fund very properly convertible to this purpose, in
addition to the twenty thousand pounds, remaining of the
former fund, will be the produce of the tax upon coals, so
iniquitously 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

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 493
community ; and any government permitting such an abuse,
deserves to be dismissed. This fund is said to be about
twenty thousand pounds per annum.
I shall now conclude this plan with enumerating the sev
eral particulars, and then proceed to other matters.
The enumeration is as follows : —
First — Abolition of two millions poor-rates.
Secondly — Provision for two hundred and fifty thousand
poor families.
Thirdly — Education for one million and thirty thousand
children. Fourthly — Comfortable provision for one hundred and
forty thousand aged persons.
Fifthly — Donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thou
sand births.
Sixthly — Donation of twenty shillings each for twenty
thousand marriages.
Seventhly — Allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the
funeral expences of persons travelling for work, and dying at
a distance from their friends.
Eighthly — Employment, at all times, for the casual poor
in the cities of London and Westminster.
By the operation of this plan, the poor laws, those instru-^V
ments of civil torture, will be superseded, and the wasteful
expence of litigation prevented. The hearts of the humane
will not be shocked by ragged and hungry children, and per
sons of seventy 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. Wid
ows will 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
encreasing the distresses of their parents. The haunts of
the wretched will be known, because it will be to their ad
vantage ; 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 interested in the support of govern
ment, and the cause and apprehension of riots and tumults

494 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
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
ivill cease to speak and feel 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
money necessary 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 this subject, I pro
ceed to the next.
Taking the present current expences at seven millions and
an half, which is the least amount they are now at, there will
remain (after the sum of one million and an half be taken for
the new current expenses and four millions for the before-
mentioned service) the sum of two millions ; part of which
to be applied as follows :
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 un
fitted themselves for other lines of life, are not to be suffer
ers by the means that make others happy. They are a
different description of men from 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 the
Second. Suppose, then, fifteen thousand soldiers to be disbanded,
and that an allowance be made to each of three shillings a
week during life, clear of all 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
that an addition of fifteen thousand sixpences per week be

x792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

495

made to the pay of the soldiers who shall remain; the
annual expences will be, to the pay of —
Fifteen thousand disbanded soldiers at 3s. per week  £117,000
Additional pay to the remaining soldiers  19,000
Suppose that the pay to the officers of the disbanded corps be the
same amount as to the men  117,000
To prevent bulky estimations, admit the same sum to the disbanded
navy as to the army, and the same increase of pay  253,500
Total  £507,000
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 encreased pay of twenty-nine thousand pounds.
As it falls in, part of the taxes may be taken off ; and as,
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 off, 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: by the act
of 1766, £385,459 "7; by the act of 1779, £'30,739 l4 5* !
total, £516,199 6 o^.
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 con
sider what may be accomplished by other modes of reform.
Among the taxes most heavily felt is the commutation-
tax. I shall therefore offer a plan for its abolition, by sub
stituting another in its place, which will effect three objects
at once: 1, that of removing the burthen to where it can
best be borne ; 2, restoring justice among families by a dis
tribution of property ; 3, extirpating the overgrown influence
Vol. ii.— 32-

496 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
arising from the unnatural law of primogeniture, which is
one of the principal sources of corruption at elections. The
amount of 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 caHed
1 a 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
j sight.
j 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,
j and argue on the principle themselves have laid down, that
j of taxing luxuries. If they or their champion, Mr. Burke,
who, I fear, is growing out of date, like the man in armor,
i can prove that an estate of twenty, thirty, or forty thou
sand pounds a year is not a luxury, I will give up the
argument. Admitting that any annual sum, say, for instance, one
thousand pounds, is necessary or sufficient for the support
of a family, consequently the second thousand is of the na
ture 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 impolitic to
f set bounds to property acquired by industry, and therefore
i it is right to place the prohibition beyond the probable ac-
| quisition to which industry can extend ; but there ought to
be a limit to property or the accumulation of it by bequest.
S 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 commu
tation tax. It will reach the point of prohibition by a
regular operation, and thereby supercede the aristocratical
law of primogeniture.

i792]

RIGHTS OF MAN.

497

TABLE I.
A tax on all estates of the clear yearly value of £50, after deducting the land

tax, and

up

per
per
s.
d.
pound
s. d.
pound
To £500
0
3
On the twelfth thousand 9 0
From £500 to £1,000. .
0
6
On the thirteenth '
10 0
On the second thousand.
0
9
On the fourteenth '
' n 0
On the third
1
0
On the fifteenth
' 12 0
On the fourth "
I
6
On the sixteenth '
' 13 0
On the fifth
2
0
On the seventeenth '
' 14 0
On the sixth "
3
0
On the eighteenth '
' 15 0
On the seventh "
4
0
On the nineteenth '
' 16 0
On the eighth
5
0
On the twentieth
' 17 0
On the ninth "
6
0
On the twenty-first '
' 18 0
On the tenth "
7
0
On the twenty-second
" ig 0
On the eleventh "
8
0
On the twenty- third
' 20 0
The foregoing table shows the progression per pound on
every progressive thousand. The following table shows the
amount of the tax on every thousand separately, and in the
last column the total amount of all the separate sums
collected. TABLE II.
An estate of
£,$0 per annum, at 3d., pays, £0 12 6
100 " " " 150
200 " " " 2 10 o
£30Operannum,a.t3d.,pa.ys,£3 15 o
400 " " " 500
500 " " 7 5<>
After
£¦500, the tax of 6d.
per pound takes place
on the
second £500 ; consequently an estate
of £1,000/.
t annum
pays £2 1
, 15s, and so on.
For the
£
». d. £ s. £
».
£
s.
d. £
s.
£ s.
ist £500 at
2nd "
° 3- 7 5 ) 2I
0 6 — 14 10 )
15
12th 1000
13th
at 9
10
O— 450
O — 500
0
O
2380 5
2880 5
2nd 1000 at
0 9— 37 n 59
5
14th
"
11
0— 550
O
3430 5
3rd "
1 0 — 50 0 109
5
15th
k
12
O — 600
O
4030 5
4th "
1 6— 75 0 l84
5
16th
CI
13
0 — 650
O
4680 5
5th "
2 0 — 100 0 284
5
17th
(t
14
0 — 700
0
538o 5
6th
3 0 — 150 0 434
5
1 8th
1 1
15
0— 750
O
6130 5
7th "
4 0 — 200 0 634
5
19th
( 1
16
0 — 800
O
6930 5
8th
5 0 — 250 0 880
5
20th
it
17
0 — 850
O
7780 5
9th
6 0 — 300 0 1100
5
2Ist
"
18
0 — 900
O
8680 5
ioth "
7 0— 35° ° r530
5
22nd
"
19
0— 950
0
9630 5
nth "
8 0 — 400 0 1930
5
23rd
fc
20
0 — 1000
0
10630 5
498 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
At the twenty-third thousand the tax becomes 20s. in the
pound, and consequently every thousand beyond that sum
can produce no profit but by dividing the estate. Yet for
midable 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 measure. 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 Restoration, or the coming of Charles the
Second. The aristocratical 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 commutation at that time
were necessary, it ought to have been at the expence of
those for whom the exemptions from those services were
intended* ; instead of which, it was thrown on an entirely
different class of men.
But the chief object of this progressive tax ( besides the
justice of rendering taxes more equal than they are ) is, as
already stated, to extirpate the overgrown influence arising
from the unnatural law of primogeniture, and which is one
of the principal sources of corruption at elections.
It would be attended with no good consequences to
enquire how such vast estates as thirty, forty, or fifty thou-
* The tax on beer brewed for sale, from which the aristocracy are exempt,
is almost one million more than 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.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 499
sand a-year could commence, and that at a time when com
merce and manufactures were not in a state to admit of such
acquisitions. Let it be sufficient to remedy the evil by put
ting them in a condition of descending again to the com
munity by the quiet means of 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 connexions upon the
public in useless posts, places and offices, which when abolished
will leave them destitute, unless the law of primogeniture be
also abolished or superceded.
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 shews the nett produce upon every estate, after sub
tracting 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 pass either to the younger children, or to other kindred.
TABLE ill.
Shewing 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.
IOOO/. 2ll. 979^-
2000 59 x94i
3000 I°9 289!
4000 184 3861
5000 284 4716
6000 434 5566
7000 634 °3°6
8000 880 7"o
9000 II0° 782o
10,000 1530 8470
11,000 1930 9070
12,000 2380 9620
13,000 288° 10,120
14,000 3430 10,570
15000 4030 I0.97O
16000 4680 11,320
17000 5380 11,620
18000 6130 11,870
19,000 69§o 12,170
20000 "80 12,220
aiooo *&» I2.32o
22 oOO 9&30 12,370
23,000 IO-°30 I2>37»
N. B. The odd shillings are dropped in this table.

500 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
According to this table, an estate cannot produce more
than 12,370/. clear of the land tax and the progressive tax,
and therefore the dividing such estates will follow as a mat
ter 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 1 129/. which is but five per cent., but if held
by one possessor, will be charged 10,630/.
Although an enquiry into the origin of those estates be
unnecessary, the continuation of them in their present state
is another subject. It is a matter of national concern. As
hereditary 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 country suffers by its operation. By cutting off
(as before observed) the younger children from their proper
portion of inheritance, the public is loaded with the expence
of maintaining them ; and the freedom of elections violated
by the overbearing influence which this unjust monoply of
family property produces. Nor is this all. It occasions a
waste of national property. A considerable part of the land
of the country is rendered unproductive, by the great extent
of parks and chases which this law serves to keep up, and
this at a time when the annual production of grain is not
equal to the national consumption.* — In short, the evils of
the aristocratical system are so great and numerous, so
inconsistent with every thing 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 that
description, will wish to see such a system abolished.
What pleasure can they derive from contemplating the
exposed 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 generations, are shook off, and console
themselves with telling their tale in almshouses, 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
* See the Reports on the Corn Trade. — Author.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 501
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 help
less ; younger children, and the poor. Of the former I have
just spoken ; of the latter I shall mention one instance out
of the many that might be produced, and with which I shall
close this subject. -.— ~
Several laws are in existence for regulating and limiting
work-men's wages. Why not leave them as free to make
their own bargains, as the law-makers are to let their farms
and houses ? Personal labour is all the property they have.
Why is that little, and the little freedom they enjoy, to be
infringed? But the injustice will appear stronger, if we
consider the operation and effect of such laws. When
wages are fixed by what is called a law, the legal wages
remain stationary, while every thing else is in progression ;
and as those who make that law, still continue to lay on new
taxes by other laws, they encrease the expence of living by
one law, and take away the means by another.
But if these gentlemen law-makers and tax-makers thought
it right to limit the poor pittance which personal labour can
produce, and on which a whole family is to be supported, they
certainly must feel themselves happily indulged in a limita
tion on their own part, of not less than twelve thousand a-year,
and that of property they never acquired, (nor probably any
of their ancestors) and of which they have made so ill a use.
Having now finished this subject, I shall bring the several
particulars into one view, and then proceed to other matters.
The first eight articles are brought forward from p. 493 :
1. Abolition of two millions poor-rates.
2. Provision for two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor
families, at the rate of four pounds per head for each child
under fourteen years of age ; which, with the addition of
two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, provides also edu
cation for one million and thirty thousand children.
3. Annuity of six pounds (per annum) each for all poor
persons, decayed tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy
thousand) of the age of fifty years, and until sixty.

502 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
4. Annuity of ten pounds each for life for all poor per
sons, decayed tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy
thousand) of the age of sixty years.
5. Donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand births.
6. Donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand
marriages. 7. Allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral
expenses of persons travelling for work, and dying at a
distance from their friends.
8. Employment at all times for the casual poor in the
cities of London and Westminster.
Second enumeration :
9. Abolition of the tax on houses and windows.
10. Allowance of three shillings per week for life to fifteen
thousand disbanded soldiers, and a proportionate allowance
to the officers of the disbanded corps.
11. Encrease of pay to the remaining soldiers of 19,500/.
annually. 12. The same allowance to the disbanded navy, and the
same encrease of pay, as to the army.
13. Abolition of the commutation tax.
14. Plan of a progressive tax, operating to extirpate the
unjust and unnatural law of primogeniture, and the vicious
influence of the aristocratical system *
* When inquiries are made into the condition of the poor, various degrees of
distress will most probably be found, to render a different arrangement pref
erable to that which is already proposed. Widows with families will be in
greater want than where there are husbands living. There is also a difference
in the expence of living in different counties : and more so in fuel.
Suppose then fifty thousand extraordinary cases, at the rate of ten
pounds per family per ann  500,000/.
100,000 families, at 8/. per family per ann  800,000
100,000 families, at 7/, per " "  700,000
104,000 families, at 5/, per " "  520,000
And instead of ten shillings per head for the education of other
children, to allow fifty shillings per family for that purpose to
fifty thousand families  250,000
2,770,000
140,000 aged persons as before, 1,120,000
3,890,000/.
This arrangement amounts to the same sum as stated in p. 489, including
the 250,000/, for education ; but it provides (including the aged people) for
four hundred and four thousand families, which is almost one third of all the
families in England. — Aut her.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

503

There yet remains, as already stated, one million of surplus
taxes. Some part of this will be required for circumstances
that do not immediately present themselves, and such part
as shall not be wanted, will admit of a further reduction of
taxes equal to that amount.
Among the claims that justice requires to be made, the
condition of the inferior revenue-officers will merit attention.
It is a reproach to any government to waste such an immen
sity of revenue in sinecures and nominal and unnecessary
places and officers, and not allow even a decent livelihood to
those on whom the labour 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 parliament to have his own salary raised an hun
dred thousand pounds a year, which being done, every thing
else was laid aside.'
With respect to another class of men, the inferior clergy, I
forbear to enlarge on their condition ; but all partialities and
prejudices for, or against, different modes and forms of re
ligion 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 Presbyterian ; 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
1 In 1772, Paine, then Exciseman at Lewes, wrote The Case of the officers of
Excise ¦ with remarks on the qualifications of officers ; and of the numerous
evils arising to the Revenue from the insufficiency of the present salary.
Humbly addressed to the Hon. and Right Hon. Members of both Houses of
Parliament. Though printed it was not published until 1793. It will appear
in the Appendix of our final volume.— Lditor.

504 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
through this courtly craft ? If ye can be kept disputing and
wrangling about church and meeting, ye just answer the
purpose of every courtier, who lives the while on the spoils
of the taxes, and laughs at your credulity. Every religion
is good that teaches man to be good ; and I know of none
that instructs him to be bad.
All the before-mentioned calculations suppose only six
teen millions and an half of taxes paid into the exchequer,
after the expence of collection and drawbacks at the custom
house and excise-office are deducted ; whereas the sum paid
into the exchequer is very nearly, if not quite, seventeen
millions. The taxes raised in Scotland and Ireland are ex
pended in those countries, and therefore their savings will
come out of their own taxes ; but if any part be paid into
the English exchequer, it might be remitted. This will not
make one hundred thousand pounds a year difference.
There now remains only the national debt to be con
sidered. In the year 1789, the interest, exclusive of the
tontine, was 9,150,138/. How much the capital has been re
duced since that time the minister best knows. But after
paying the interest, abolishing the tax on houses and win
dows, the commutation tax, and the poor-rates ; and making
all the provisions for the poor, for the education of children,
the support of the aged, the disbanded part of the army and
navy, and encreasing the pay of the remainder, there will be
a surplus of one million.
The present scheme of paying off the national debt appears
to me, speaking as an indifferent person, to be an ill-con
certed, if not a fallacious job. The burthen of the national
debt consists not in its being so many millions, or so many
hundred millions, but in the quantity of taxes collected
every year to pay the interest. If this quantity continues the
same, the burthen of the national debt is the same to all in
tents and purposes, be the capital more or less. The only
knowledge which the public 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 farthing to
the public by all the millions that have been paid ; and it

I792I RIGHTS OF MAN. 505
would require more money now to purchase up the capital,
than when the scheme began.
Digressing for a moment at this point, to which I shall
return again, I look back to the appointment of Mr. Pitt, as
minister. I was then in America. The war was over ; and though
resentment had ceased, memory was still alive.
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 a man. It had something in it which shocked, by publicly
sporting with decency, if not with principle. It was impu
dence 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 politics. So far from being hackneyed, he ap
peared not to be initiated into the first mysteries of court in
trigue. Every thing was in his favour. Resentment against
the coalition served as friendship to him, and his ignorance of
vice was credited for virtue. With the return of peace, com
merce and prosperity would rise of itself ; yet even this
encrease was thrown to his account.
When he came to the helm, the storm was over, and he had
nothing to interrupt his course. It required even ingenuity
to be wrong, and he succeeded. A little time shewed him
the same sort of man as his predecessors had been. Instead
of profiting by those errors which had accumulated a burthen
of taxes unparalleled in the world, he sought, I might almost
say, he advertised for enemies, and provoked means to en
crease taxation. Aiming at something, he knew not what,
he ransacked Europe and India for adventures, and aban
doning the fair pretensions he began with, he became the
knight-errant of modern times.
It is unpleasant to see character throw itself away. It is
more so to see one's-self deceived. Mr. Pitt had merited
nothing, but he promised much. He gave symptoms of a
mind superior to the meanness and corruption of courts. His
apparent candour encouraged expectations ; and the public
confidence, stunned, wearied, and confounded by a chaos of
parties, revived and attached itself to him. But mistaking, as

506 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
he has done, the disgust of the nation against the coalition, for
merit in himself, he has rushed into measures, which a man less
supported would 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 foun
dation and the superstructure of the government is bad.
Prop it as you please, it continually sinks into court govern
ment, and ever will.
I return, as I promised, to the subject of the national debt,
that offspring of the Dutch-Anglo revolution, and its hand
maid the Hanover succession.
But it is now too late to enquire how it began. Those to
whom it is due have advanced the money ; and whether it
was well or ill spent, or pocketed, is not their crime. It is,
however, easy to see, that as the nation proceeds in contem
plating the nature and principles of government, and to un
derstand taxes, and make comparisons between those of
America, France, and England, it will be next to impossible
to keep it in the same torpid state it has hitherto been.
Some reform must, from the necessity of the case, soon be
gin. It is not whether these principles press with little or
much force in the present moment. They are out. They
are abroad in the world, and no force can stop them. Like
a secret told, they are beyond recall ; and he must be blind
indeed that does not see that a change is already beginning.
Nine millions of dead taxes is a serious thing ; and this not
only for bad, but in a great measure for foreign government.
By putting the power of making war into the hands of the
foreigners who came for what they could get, little else was
to be expected than what has happened.
• Reasons are already advanced in this work, shewing that
whatever the reforms in the taxes may be, they ought to be
made in the current expences of government, and not in the
part applied to the interest of the national debt. By remit
ting the taxes of the poor, they will be totally relieved, and
all discontent will be taken away; and by striking off such

*792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 507
of the taxes as are already mentioned, the nation will more
than recover the whole expence of the mad American war.
There will then remain only the national debt as a subject
of discontent ; and in order to remove, or rather to prevent
this, it would be good policy in the stock-holders themselves
to consider it as property, subject like all other property, to
bear some portion 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 capital which it keeps alive,
a measure of this kind would so far add to that balance as to
silence objections.
This may be done by such gradual means as to accomplish
all that is necessary 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. Suppose the interest was taxed one halfpenny in the pound
the first year, a penny more the second, and to proceed by a
certain 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 ex-
pence of collection.
One halfpenny in the pound would lessen the interest and
consequently the taxes, twenty thousand pounds. The tax
on waggons 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 proceeding in this manner, always applying
the tax raised from the property of the debt toward its
extinction, and not carry it to the current services, it would
liberate itself.
The stockholders, notwithstanding this tax, would pay
less taxes than they do now. What they would save by the
•extinction of the poor-rates, and the tax on houses and win
dows, and the commutation tax, would be considerably
greater than what this tax, slow, but certain in its operation,
amounts to.

508 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
It appears to me to be prudence to look out for measures
that may apply under any circumstance that may approach.
There is, at this moment, a crisis in the affairs of Europe that
requires it. Preparation now is wisdom. If taxation be
once let loose, it will be difficult to re-instate it ; neither
would the relief be so effectual, as if it proceeded by some
certain and gradual reduction.
The fraud, hypocrisy, and imposition of governments, are
now beginning to be too well understood to promise them
any long career. The farce of monarchy and aristocracy,
in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and Mr. Burke
is dressing for the funeral. Let it then pass quietly to the
tomb of all 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 Burnswick
for men, at the expence of a million a year, who under
stood neither her laws, her language, nor her interest, and
whose capacities would scarcely have fitted them for the
office of a parish constable. 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 England.
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 aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppres
sive ; the rational world is my friend, because I am the friend
of its happiness : when these things can be said, then may
that country boast its constitution and its government.
Within the space of a few years we have seen two revolu
tions, 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 com
plete in power the moment 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 com
mon interest. Where these can have the opportunity of

J792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 509
acting, opposition dies with fear, or crumbles away by con
viction. It is a great standing which they have now univer
sally obtained ; and we may hereafter hope to see revolu
tions, or changes in governments, produced with the same
quiet operation by which any measure, determinable by
reason and discussion, is accomplished.
When a nation changes its opinion and habits of thinking,
it is no longer to be governed 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 government. There ought, therefore, to be
in every nation a method of occasionally ascertaining the
state of public opinion with respect 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 occa
sional bodies ; and as to those who are now called Repre
sentatives, a great part of them are mere machines of the
court, placemen, and dependants.
I presume, that though all the people of England pay taxes,
not an hundredth part of them are electors, and the members
of one of the houses of parliament represent nobody but
themselves. 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 proceedings, is to find
out what the general sense of a nation is, and to be gov
erned by it. If it prefer a bad or defective government to
a reform or chuse 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, differ
ent from what they impose upon themselves, though there
may be much error, there is no injustice. Neither will the
error continue long. Reason and discussion will soon bring
things right, however wrong they may begin. By such a

5IO THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
process no tumult is to be apprehended. The poor, in all
countries, are naturally both peaceable and grateful in all
reforms in which their interest and happiness is included.
It is only by neglecting and rejecting them that they become
tumultuous. The objects that now press on the public attention are, the
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 expence, and without
any national object, the opportunity now presents itself of
amicably closing the scene, and joining their efforts to
reform the rest of Europe. By doing this they will not
only prevent the further effusion of blood, and encrease of
taxes, but be in a condition of getting rid of a considerable
part of their present burthens, as has been already stated.
Long experience however has shewn, that reforms of this
kind are not those which old governments wish to promote,
and therefore it is to nations, and not to such govern
ments, that these matters present themselves.
In the preceding part of this work, I have spoken of an
alliance between England, France, and America, for pur
poses that were to be afterwards mentioned. 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 con
sideration 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 as a nation, and a national government, would prefer
an alliance with England, is a matter of certainty. Nations,
like individuals, who have long been enemies, without know
ing each other, or knowing why, become the better friends
when they discover the errors and impositions under which
they had acted.
Admitting, therefore, the probability of such a connec
tion, I will state some matters by which such an alliance,
together with that of Holland, might render service, not only
to the parties immediately concerned, but to all Europe.

I792] RIGHTS OF MAN. 5 II
It is, I think, 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.
First, That no new ship of war shall be built by any
power in Europe, themselves included.
Second, 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, at least two millions sterling
annually to each, and their relative force be in the same pro
portion as it is now. If men will permit themselves to think,
as rational beings ought to think, nothing can appear more
ridiculous and absurd, exclusive of all moral reflections,
than to be at the expence 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 expence. But this, though it best
answers the purpose of nations, does not that of court
governments, whose habited policy is pretence for taxation,
places, and offices.
It is, I think, also certain, that the above confederated
powers, together with that of the United States of America,
can propose with effect, to Spain, the independence of
South America, and the opening those countries of immense
extent and wealth to the general commerce of the world, as
North America now is.
With how much more glory, and advantage to itself, does
a nation act, when it exerts its powers to rescue the world
from bondage, and to create itself friends, than when it em
ploys those powers to increase ruin, desolation, and misery.
The horrid scene that is now acting by the English govern
ment in the East-Indies, is fit only to be told of Goths and
Vandals, who, destitute of principle, robbed and tortured
the world they were incapable of enjoying.
The opening of South America would produce an im
mense field of commerce, and a ready money market for
manufactures, which the eastern world does not. The East

512 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
is already a country full 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 upwards of half a million annually
sent out in the East-India ships in silver; and this is the
reason, together with German intrigue, and German sub
sidies, 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 deceit
ful expectations which prevent people from 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 world ; and by the latter,
in Europe. When another nation shall join France, despot
ism and bad government will scarcely dare to appear. To
use a trite expression, the iron is becoming hot all over
Europe. The insulted German and the enslaved Spaniard,
the Russ and the Pole, are beginning to think. The present
iage will hereafter merit to be called the Age of reason,1 and
jthe present generation will appear to the future as the Adam
lof a new world.
When all the governments of Europe shall be established
on the representative system, nations will become ac
quainted, and the animosities and prejudices fomented by
the intrigue and artifice of courts, will cease. The oppressed
soldier will become a freeman ; and the tortured sailor, no
longer dragged through the streets like a felon, will pursue
his mercantile voyage in safety. It would be better that
nations should continue the pay of their soldiers during
their lives, and give them their discharge and restore them
to freedom and their friends, and cease recruiting, than re
tain such multitudes at the same expence, in a condition
useless to society and to themselves. As soldiers have
1 It was about a year later that Paine used this phrase as the title of his work
on religion, which, however, did not appear until 1794. — Editor.

i792]

RIGHTS OF MAN. 513

hitherto been treated in most countries, they might be said
to be without a friend. Shunned by the citizen on an ap
prehension 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, every thing 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 positive 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 sowered ; 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 con
test, and it is only when those are attempted to be sup
pressed that recourse is had to violence. When men unite
in agreeing that a thing is good, could it be obtained, such
for instance as relief from a burden of taxes and the ex
tinction of corruption, the object is more than half accom
plished. What they approve as the end, they will promote
in the means.
Will any man say, in the present excess of taxation, fall
ing so heavily on the poor, that a remission of five pounds
annually of taxes to one hundred and four thousand poor
families is not a good thing f 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, dis
tressed and reduced persons of the age of fifty and until sixty,
and of ten pounds annually after sixty, is not a good thing?

514 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
Will he say, that an abolition of two millions of poor-rates
to the house-keepers, 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 pas
sive, rational, and costless revolution, it would be bad policy
to prefer waiting for 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 hon
our to the animal faculties of man to obtain redress by
courage and danger, but it is far greater honour to the
rational faculties to accomplish the same object by reason,
accommodation, and general consent.*
As reforms, or revolutions, call them which you please,
extend themselves among nations, those nations will form
connections and conventions, and when a few are thus con
federated, the progress will be rapid, till despotism and cor
rupt government be totally expelled, at least out of two
quarters of the world, Europe and America. The Algerine
* 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 former National Assembly, that the monarchical plan will not
continue many years in that country. They have found out, that as wisdom
cannot be made 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 com
prehending 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 honourable
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 gen
eral rights and privileges, and to be no more accountable to the public for his
time and his conduct than any other citizen. — Author.
Monarchy was formally abolished in France Sept. 21, 1792. — Editor.

1792]

RIGHTS OF MAN. 515
piracy may then be commanded to cease, for it is only by
the malicious policy of old governments, against each other
that it exists.1
Throughout this work, various and numerous as the sub
jects are, which I have taken up and investigated, there is
only a single paragraph upon religion, viz. " that every reli
gion is good that teaches man to be good."
I have carefully avoided to enlarge upon the subject,
because I 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 sub
jects of government. It is, as if they were to say, " Look
that way, or any way, but this."
But as religion is very improperly made a political ma
chine, and the reality of it is thereby destroyed, I will con
clude this work with stating in what light religion appears
to me.
If we suppose a large family of children, who, on any par
ticular day, or particular circumstance, made it a custom to
present to their parents some token of their affection and
gratitude, each of them would make a different offering, and
most probably in a different manner. Some would pay
their congratulations in themes of verse and prose, by some
little devices, as their genius dictated, or according to what
they thought would 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
flower it could find, though, perhaps, it might be but a
simple weed. The parent would be more gratified by such
a variety, than if the whole of them had acted on a con
certed plan, and each had made exactly the same offering.
This would have the cold appearance of contrivance, or the
harsh one of controul. But of all unwelcome things, noth-
1 In a MS Note-Book of Thomas ' Clio' Rickman, an anecdote, entered
about 1818 is told as follows : " The Duke of Kent, when at Gibraltar, some
years since', visited in great state The Dey of Algiers. The Dey, wishing to
ingratiate himself, said, Your father is the greatest Pirate in the world, and I
am the next 1 " —Editor.

516 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
ing could more afflict the parent than to know, that the
whole of them had afterwards gotten together by the ears,
boys and girls, fighting, scratching, reviling, and abusing
each other about which was the best or the worst present.
Why may we not suppose, that the great Father of all is
pleased with variety of devotion ; and that the greatest
offence we can act, is that by which we seek to torment and
render each other miserable ? For my own part, I am fully
satisfied that what I am now doing, with an endeavour; to
conciliate mankind, to render their condition happy, to
unite nations that have hitherto been enemies, and to ex
tirpate the horrid practice of war, and break the chains of
slavery and oppression is acceptable in his sight, and being
the best service I can perform, I act it chearfully.
I do not believe that any two men, on what are called
doctrinal points, think alike who think at all. It is only
those who have 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 proof. But when the nation comes to
examine into its principles and the abuses it admits, it will
be found to have more defects 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. It is either political
craft or the remains of the Pagan system, when every nation
had; its separate and particular deity. Among all the writers
of the English church clergy, who have treated on the gen
eral subject of religion, the present Bishop of Landaff has
not been excelled, and it is with much pleasure that I take
this opportunity of expressing this token of respect.1
I have now gone through the whole of the subject, at
least, as far as it; appears to me at 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
1 Ri$ard Watson (1737-181$). This homage in 1792 tp the writer whose
fame rests chie^fly on his answer to Paine's Age of Reason ("Apology for thp
Bible," 1796) is worthy of note. — Editor.

i792]

RIGHTS OF MAN- 517

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 purpose 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 every thing within that
field of corruption, and trust to accidents. Long experience
had shewn that parliaments would follow any change of
ministers, and on this they rested their hopes and their ex
pectations. Formerly, when divisions arose respecting governments,
recourse 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. Discussion 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 Rights of Man are
founded, " a new-fangled doctrine." The question is not
whether those principles are new or old, but whether they
are right or wrong. Suppose the former, I will shew their
effect by a figure easily understood.
It is now towards the middle of February. Were I to
take a turn into the country, the trees would present a leaf
less, wintery appearance. As people are apt to pluck twigs
as they walk along, I perhaps might do the same, and by
chance might observe, that a single bud on that twig had
begun to swell. I should reason very unnaturally, or rather
not reason at all, to suppose this was the only bud in Eng
land which had this appearance. Instead of deciding thus, I
should instantly conclude, that the same appearance was
beginning, or about to begin, every where ; and though the
vegetable sleep will continue longer on some trees and plants
than on others, and though some of them may not blossom
for two or three years, all will be in leaf in the summer, ex-

5l8 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
cept those which are rotten. What pace the political sum
mer 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.

APPENDIX.
As the publication of this work has been delayed beyond
the time intended, I think it not improper, all circumstances
considered, 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 cer
tain parts in Mr. Pitt's speech at the opening of the present
session, Tuesday, January 31, are so much alike, as to in
duce 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 extraordi
nary that such a measure should occur to two persons at the
same time ; and still more so (considering the vast variety
and multiplicity of taxes) that they should hit on the same
specific taxes. Mr. Pitt has mentioned, in his speech, the
tax on Carts and Wagons— that on Female Servants— the
lowering the tax on Candles and 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
contained 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. I
have made my calculations on only sixteen millions and an
half of revenue, still asserting that it was " very nearly, if
not quite, seventeen millions." Mr. Pitt states it at 16,690,-
519

520 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
000. I know enough of the matter to say, that he has not
<?zwstated it. Having thus given the particulars, which
correspond in this work and his speech, I will state a chain
of circumstances that may lead to some explanation.
The first hint for lessening the taxes, and that as a conse
quence flowing from the French revolution, is to be found in
the Address and Declaration of the Gentlemen who
met at the Thatched-House Tavern, August 20, 1791.
Among many other particulars stated in that Address, is the
following, put as an interrogation to the government op-
posers of the French Revolution. "Are they sorry that the
pretence for new oppressive taxes, and the occasion for continu
ing many old taxes will be at an end? "
It is well known, that the persons who chiefly frequent
the Thatched-House Tavern, are men of court connections,
and so much did they take this Address and Declaration
respecting the French Revolution, and the reduction of taxes
in disgust, that the Landlord was under the necessity of
informing the Gentlemen, 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
respecting taxes and principles of government, will be found
* The gentleman who signed the address and declaration as chairman of the
meeting, Mr. Home Tooke, being generally supposed to be the person who
drew it up, and having spoken much in commendation of it, has been jocularly
accused of praising his own work. To free him from this embarrassment, and
to save him the repeated trouble of mentioning the author, as he has not failed
to do, I make no hesitation in saying, that as the opportunity of benefiting by
the French Revolution easily occurred to me, I drew up the publication in ques
tion, and shewed it to him and some other gentlemen, who, fully approving it,
held a meeting for the purpose of making it public, and subscribed to the
amount of fifty guineas to defray the expence of advertising. I believe there
are at this time, in England, a greater number of men acting on disinterested
principles, and determined to look into the nature and practices of government
themselves, and not blindly trust, as has hitherto been the case, either to gov
ernment generally, or to parliaments, or to parliamentary opposition, than at
any former period. Had this been done a century ago, corruption and taxation
had not arrived to the height they are now at. — Author.
The Address and Declaration alluded to above is No. XII. in the present
volu me. — Editor.

r792] RIGHTS OF MAN.

521

reduced 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 work was intended to be published just
before the meeting 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 160, which contains the part to which Mr. Pitt's speech
is similar, was given to him full six weeks before the meet
ing of parliament, 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 Parliament meeting, and had
printed as far as page 112, and had given me a proof of the
next sheet, up to page 128. It was then in sufficient for
wardness to be out at the time proposed, as two other sheets
were ready for striking off. I had before told him, that if
he thought he should be straitened for time, I could get
part, of the work done at another press, which he desired me
not to do. In this manner the work stood on the Tuesday
fortnight preceding the meeting of Parliament, when all at
once, without any previous intimation, though I had been
with him the evening before, he sent me, by one of his work
men, all the remaining copy, from page 112, 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 principles of government closed, and where the
plan for the reduction of taxes, the education of children,
and the support of the poor and the aged begins ; and still
more especially, as he had, at the time of his beginning to
print, and before he had seen the whole copy, offered a
thousand pounds for the copy-right, together with the future
copy-right of the former part of the Rights of Man. I told
the person who brought me this offer that I should not ac
cept it, and wished it not to be renewed, giving him as my
reason,' that though I believed the printer to be an honest
man, I 'would never put it in the power of any printer or pub
lisher to suppress or alter a work of mine, by making him

522 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [1792
master of the copy, or give to him the right of selling it to
any 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
consequence would throw the publication back till after the
meeting of Parliament, otherways 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 particu
lar time at which this was done, and that after the offers he
had made, are suspicious circumstances. I know what the
opinion of booksellers and publishers is upon such a case,
but as to my own opinion, I chuse to make no declaration.
There are many ways by which proof sheets may be pro
cured by other persons before a work publicly appears ; to
which I shall add a certain circumstance, which is,
A ministerial bookseller in Piccadilly who has been em
ployed, as common report says, by a clerk of one of the
boards closely connected with the ministry (the board of
trade and plantation, of which Hawkesbury is president) to
publish what he calls my Life,1 (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 employed ; but when the
former part of Rights of Man came out, he took his work
away in dudgeon ; and about a week or ten days before the
printer returned my copy, he came to make him an offer of
his work again, which was accepted. This would conse
quently give him admission into the printing-office where the
1 ' ' The Life of Thomas Pain, Author of the ' Rights of Men,' with a Defence
of his Writings. By Francis Oldys, A.M. of the University of Pennsyl
vania." George Chalmers, the clerk alluded to, by this purely fictitious claim
to American connection, and pretence to " Defence," proved himself quite
equal to the surreptitious action suspected by Paine. His libellous " Life "
proves him well acquainted with Paine's transactions with the first printer.
See my " Life of Paine," i., 330. — Editor.

i792]

RIGHTS OF MAN. 523

sheets of this work were then lying ; and as booksellers and
printers are free with each other, he would have the oppor
tunity of seeing what was going on. — Be the case, however,
as it may, Mr. Pitt's plan, little and diminutive as it is, would
have made a very awkward appearance, had this work ap
peared at the time the printer had engaged to finish it.
I have now stated the particulars which occasioned the
delay, from the proposal to purchase, to the refusal to print.
If all the Gentlemen are innocent, it is very unfortunate for
them that such a variety of suspicious circumstances should,
without any design, arrange themselves together.
Having now finished this part, I will conclude with stat
ing another circumstance.
About a fortnight or three weeks before the meeting of
Parliament, a small addition, amounting to about twelve
shillings and sixpence a year, was made to the pay of the
soldiers, or rather their 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 sol
diers, wished me to add a note to the work, signifying that
the part upon that subject had been in the printer's hands
some weeks before that addition of pay was proposed. I
declined doing this, lest it should be interpreted into an air
of vanity, or an endeavour to excite suspicion (for which per
haps there might be no grounds) that some of the govern
ment gentlemen had, by some 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.
Thomas Paine.
end of volume ii.

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