Chapter XI: Part II (3)

"Be it so." Let us find the feeling which produced this expression. It is peculiar to Junius. See Letters 18, 34, and 44, where the sentence is used. And now let me remark, _that the reader may be led to a just criticism, and not ramble after vague and unmeaning expressions_, the spirit of the writer must be found, the prominent sentiment of the heart must _be felt_, the cause must be seen which shall give utterance to the expression, "Be it so." How trifling it appears to the cursory reader! But let me arrest your attention. Junius uses the expression three times, and every time in connection with the sentiment of _dignity_. So, also, in the Declaration. It is only produced in him by a feeling, and the peculiar and particular feeling of _dignity_, in antithesis to contempt, littleness, disrepute, or meanness. I will now give the context. In Let. 18 he says: "You seem to think the channel of a pamphlet more respectable, and better suited to the _dignity_ of your cause, than a newspaper. Be it so."

In Let. 34 he says: "We are told by the highest judicial authority that Mr. Vaughan's offer to purchase the reversion of a patent place in Jamaica amounts to a _high misdemeanor_. Be it so; and if he deserves it, let him be punished. _But_ the learned judge might have had a fairer opportunity of displaying the powers of his eloquence. Having delivered himself with so much energy upon the criminal nature and dangerous consequences of any attempt to corrupt a man in your _grace's station_, what would he have said to the minister himself, to that very privy counselor, to that first commissioner of the treasury, who does not wait for, but impatiently solicits the touch of corruption, who employs the meanest of his creatures in these honorable services, and forgetting the genius and fidelity of the secretary, _descends to_ apply to his housebuilder for assistance?"

In Let. 44 he says: "There may be instances of contempt and insult to the House of Commons, which do not fall within my own exceptions, yet, in regard to the _dignity_ of the house, ought not to pass unpunished. Be it so."

In the Declaration, paragraph 25, we read: "We might have been a free and a great people together, but a communication of grandeur and freedom, it seems, is below their _dignity_. Be it so, since they will have it."

So much for the trifling little trinity of words made up of six letters, when traced to their mental origin. The reader will see an aura of _dignity_ always darting out from the sentence when used by Mr. Paine. It might never have this connection in the soul of any other man. This closes paragraph 25, and I proceed to the conclusion.

Paragraph 26. Here the nation is named. "The United States of America," are declared "free and independent States." ... "And for the support of this declaration we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor." Compare Common Sense, conclusion, as follows: "Wherefore, instead of gazing at each other with suspicious or doubtful curiosity, let each of us _hold out to his neighbor the hearty hand of friendship_, and unite in drawing a line which, like an act of oblivion, shall bury in forgetfulness every former dissension. Let the name of whig and tory be extinct; and let none other be heard among us than those of _a good citizen, an open and resolute friend, and a virtuous supporter of the_ RIGHTS OF MANKIND, _and of the_ FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES OF AMERICA."

I have now gone through with the Declaration, both in a general and special manner. In the former regard I have found it to be the soul's image of Mr. Paine, in style, _order_, and construction, and, in the latter, a complete synopsis of Common Sense. I have fully and conclusively shown that the substance of _every paragraph_ is found in Common Sense, with much of the language the same, and also that many special, mental peculiarities, common to Mr. Paine, and wanting in Mr. Jefferson, are found there. Now, Mr. Jefferson never before, nor since, ever produced any thing like it in any of these particulars. If we take a hasty review, we will find that in as many particulars as the Declaration has, in just so many there is a reproduction of Mr. Paine. In no single fact does the Declaration disagree with Mr. Paine. It does with Mr. Jefferson in very many. I have shown also that it would be impossible for Mr. Jefferson to steal it, for he would have to steal the very soul of Mr. Paine, and write under its influence. This is above proof, it is demonstration.

But I will hold the reader to history. It is a fact, well established, _that he did not consult one single author thereon_. He says so himself. Mr. Bancroft, the great American historian, says so. If I had found him mistaken in this statement, I would have shown wherein. He is correct, and it is unnecessary for me to add any thing to support his fame. But will he change his conclusions, and will he re-write his own history to support the statement that Mr. Jefferson produced it, not from "the fullness of his own mind," but from the fullness of Common Sense? I would not cast an aspersion, by the remotest insinuation, upon the faithfulness of Mr. Bancroft as a historian. He penned the truth in regard to a historic fact, but founded a conclusion thereon not warranted by the fact. This will prove a lesson to the historian, and, therefore, I will further remark, that a scientific method has also dawned upon history. Voltaire struck the principle when he brought history within the realm of natural causes, and Mr. Buckle began to develop the method in an able manner, but his life was too short to complete it. That he has erred in some particulars, may be true, but he has traveled far out on the highways of nature, and, in the main, he is right. In this age the historian has no business to write unless he travels the same road. In fact, he would not be a _historian_, unless he did, but merely the _chronicler_ of events. There is a vast distance in the realm of mind between the high station of a historian, and the low office of a chronicler. But, with this remark I pass on with my argument.

Is it at variance with nature and the general order of things that Mr. Jefferson should reproduce Common Sense, in all its small particulars, as well as grand outlines, observing the same order in its construction, a perfect epitome thereof, without studying it. But if he did study it, and thus reproduce it, the theft would be too monstrous, and there is not in human nature an impudence so audacious as to do such a thing under the very eye of its author. It would have been a literary piracy too disgraceful for human nature to commit or to endure. It would have been a robbery too easy of detection by Mr. Paine, and there could not be found on earth a man so devoid of shame, or of all personal honor, or of self-respect as to have committed it. Now if Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence, never was man more disgraced in the literary world. But on the other hand, as chairman of a committee of five to whom collectively belong the duty to produce it or procure it, and who collectively shall share its honor, for him as such chairman, to receive from the hand of Mr. Paine, as a gift to the nation, the document which the country needed, there would be no dishonor connected with it. It was nobody's business who wrote it. Mr. Paine and Jefferson understood it, and none but themselves could be wronged. History records that Mr. Paine and Jefferson were ever after bound heart and hand together. Jefferson confided in the most faithful heart of the world. But after Mr. Paine died, it was wrong for Mr. Jefferson to take advantage of the silence of death and claim the document. It was the wickedness of vanity and a narrow mind that would direct to be carved on his tombstone, "_The author of the Declaration of Independence_." For his own name's sake, it ought to be struck out with some friendly chisel. It is as painful for me to write this as it would be to receive the news of the death of a dear friend, who had died with some curse upon his character. But while we look with compassion, let us tell the truth.

At first, Mr. Jefferson did not write himself down the author of the Declaration, and there seems to be a growth in this like all other things. Here are the different stages:

1. Notes written on the spot, as events were passing, for the
truth of which he pledges himself to Heaven and earth. He writes
as follows:

"It appearing in the course of these debates that the colonies
of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and
South Carolina, were not yet matured for falling into the
parent stem, but that they were fast advancing to that state,
it was thought most prudent to wait awhile for them, and to
postpone the final decision to July 1st. But that this might
occasion as little delay as possible, a committee was
appointed to prepare a Declaration of Independence. The
committee were John Adams, Dr. Franklin, Roger Sherman, Robert
R. Livingston, and myself. This was reported to the House on
Friday, the 28th of June, when it was read and ordered to lie
on the table." Works, vol. i, page 118.

There is no acknowledgment at this time. This is July, 1776. Mr.
Paine is in Philadelphia. Had Mr. Jefferson been the author, this
would have been the time for him to have recorded it, as he has
not failed to record all his other public acts. He is now
thirty-three years old.

2. Eleven years afterward, when in Paris, he writes to the editor
of the _Journal de Paris_ as follows, in regard to the history of
the Declaration: "I was on the spot and can relate to you this
transaction with precision. On the 7th of June, 1776, the
delegates from Virginia moved, in obedience to instructions from
their constituents, that Congress shall declare the thirteen
united colonies to be independent of Great Britain, and a
confederation should be formed to bind them together, and measures
be taken to procure the assistance of foreign powers. The House
ordered a punctual attendance of all their members the next day at
ten o'clock, and then resolved themselves into a committee of the
whole and entered on the discussion. It appeared in the course of
the debate that seven states, viz., New Hampshire, Massachusetts,
Rhode Island, Connecticut, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia,
were decided for a separation; but that six others still
hesitated, to-wit: New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware,
Maryland, and South Carolina. Congress desirous of unanimity, and
seeing that the public mind was advancing rapidly to it, referred
the further discussion to the first of July, appointing in the
meantime, a committee to prepare a Declaration of Independence; a
second, to form articles for the confederation of the states; and
a third, to prepare measures for obtaining foreign aid. On the
28th of June, the Declaration of Independence was reported to the
House, and was laid on the table."--Works, vol. ix, pp. 310, 311.

There is no acknowledgment that he was the author of it yet. This
is August, 1787. Mr. Paine is in Paris, just on the eve of
starting for London. Jefferson is forty-four years old.

3. In September, 1809, in answer to a proposition to publish his
writings, after mentioning many of them, he says: "I say nothing
of numerous drafts of reports, resolutions, declarations, etc.,
drawn as a member of Congress, or of the legislature of Virginia,
such as the Declaration of Independence, Report on the Money Mint
of the United States, the Act of Religious Freedom, etc., etc.
These having become the acts of public bodies, there can be no
personal claim to them." This is nearly three months after the
death of Mr. Paine.--Works, vol. v, p. 466. And here he says he
makes no personal claim to it. He is now sixty-six years old.

4. In May, 1819, he gives the same account as first above given.
Mr. Paine has been dead about ten years. He makes no
acknowledgment yet that he was the author of it, but in the same
account pledges himself to Heaven and earth for the truth of the
statement.--Works, vol. vii, page 123. He is now seventy-six years
old.

5. In January, 1821, he indirectly acknowledges himself to be the
author, but with a great deal of ambiguity. He takes the same
account as given first and third above, but interpolates into it a
clause, which I have placed in brackets in the passage which I
give, as follows: "It appearing, in the course of these debates,
that the colonies of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware,
Maryland, and South Carolina were not yet matured for falling into
the parent stem, but that they were fast advancing to that state,
it was thought most prudent to wait awhile for them, and to
postpone the final decision to July 1st; but, that this might
occasion as little delay as possible, a committee was appointed to
prepare a Declaration of Independence. The committee were John
Adams, Dr. Franklin, Roger Sherman, Robert R. Livingston, and
myself. [Committees were also appointed at the same time to
prepare a plan of confederation for the colonies, and to state the
terms proper to be proposed for foreign alliance. The committee
for drawing the Declaration of Independence desired me to do it.
It was accordingly done, and, being approved by them, I] reported
[it] to the House on Friday, the 28th of June, when it was read,
and ordered to lie on the table."--Works, vol. i, pages 17 and
18. This is the first insinuation. I say insinuation, for the
sentence, "_It_ was accordingly done, and I reported it," is not
frank and outspoken, as it ought to be, if he meant to say he
drafted it. Mr. Paine has been dead almost twelve years, but Mr.
Jefferson has dropped the pledge to Heaven and earth for the truth
of it, which he has heretofore been careful to put in. He is now
seventy-eight years old.

6. In August, 1823, he now comes forward, and says: "The committee
of five met; no such thing as a sub-committee was proposed, but
they unanimously pressed on myself alone to undertake the draft. I
consented. I drew it."--Works, vol. vii, page 304. John Adams had
said there was a sub-committee of two, viz., Jefferson and
himself, appointed by the other three. But Jefferson says there
was not--"that John Adams had forgotten about it." Query: Can a
person forget about something which never was? To this statement
there is no "pledge to Heaven and earth." He is eighty years old.

7. In the year 1825 he says once that he wrote it, and once that
he drafted it; but no "pledge to Heaven and earth" as before.

Now, he never acknowledged that he was the author of it in any of his works before the death of Mr. Paine. He gave several full accounts of the whole transaction, and calls on Heaven and earth to witness the truth of his statements. About the time Mr. Paine dies he says he can make no personal claim to it. Ten years after Mr. Paine's death, he very ambiguously claims it, as if his pen refused to write it, and drops his oath. But twelve years after Mr. Paine's death, and he now in his eightieth year, he first says he drew it. Was he too _modest_ to affirm it till he had got into his dotage? The reader must answer. It is with painful feelings I record the above facts. "But they are too true, and the more is the pity." But to proceed.

Mr. Jefferson could not have followed so closely Common Sense in the production of the Declaration of Independence, if he had studied it for a whole year with this special purpose in view. For, the style he could not have imitated; the figures of speech he could not have adopted; the impassioned eloquence would have stuck to the dry leaves; the exact order would have been missed; the fine shades of sentiment would have been blotted out; the complex ideas he would have failed to grasp; its architectural plan he could not have idealized; and its construction would never have arisen from the chaos of scattered materials which he would have gleaned. And, above all, the personal character of Mr. Paine would have been left out. He would have failed in every one of these things. And why? Want of mental similarity thereto. This, and nothing else.

I will sum up his mentality as I find it in his writings. I have given you Mr. Paine's already. In this I shall be brief, speaking only of those powers which would be incompatible with, or necessary to, the production of the Declaration.

Mr. Jefferson was a zealous partisan. Mr. Paine was a consummate statesman. Here was the great difference between the two men. Those qualities of the mind which produce the former are very unlike those which produce the latter. The former mind must be narrow and selfish, the latter broad and generous. This will take in the whole world, that but a small portion of it. The partisan has an understanding subject to the vice and discipline of cunning; the statesman has an understanding subject to the noblest and most generous affections. It was this which made Mr. Jefferson such a grand success as a party leader, and that, too, which perhaps saved the nation from passing into the hands of the monarchists. Without these consummate powers of the partisan, it would have been impossible for Mr. Jefferson to have taken command of the people, to have organized his party, to have marshaled his forces, and with his army of followers to have put royalty under his heel. How unlike Washington and John Adams, who preceded him. Hamilton, who would toast a president of America and give three cheers for George the Third of England, ruled Washington and governed the nation. John Adams, who was so beguiled with royalty and the British constitution, could not heartily sympathize with the people; the dupe of his own passions, he was unfit to be the ruler of a free people. But Jefferson, while secretary under Washington, began to form his party and draw his party lines. Through Freneau he drove Washington to cry out: "By God, I had rather be in my grave than in my present situation!" And, afterward, the party he was marshaling made John Adams, then president of the United States, desert his post for seven months, at the most trying crisis of this government. But the cold, unfeeling partisanship of the great democrat saved the nation.

The other crowning difference between the two men is, Mr. Paine had extraordinary genius, Mr. Jefferson had not; and by genius I mean a lively constructive and comprehensive mind, one that can generalize facts and deduce principles therefrom, one that can idealize and build in the imagination what it would put into material shape or on paper. If this comparison be true (and the reader is at liberty to bring facts to contradict it), then Mr. Jefferson could not produce the Declaration for want of capacity.

The Declaration is the work of a master. It is the work of one with _great experience_ in the art of composition, one who produced the whole in the ideal before he touched pen to paper, and one who followed plan and specifications with unerring precision. It is a work of the most finished rhetoric, and produced with such skill as to defy adverse criticism. It shows vast labor and time bestowed upon its execution. In its mechanism I have never seen its equal in all my reading and study. It is the most masterly work of genius I ever saw in composition. It stands alone in the world of letters. There is nothing its equal which has come down to us from the ages, and I know of no one save Thomas Paine capable of producing it. That he was a master in the art of composition, no one can dispute, and he frequently takes pains to give the principles which reveal his success; here is one of them, to be found in his Letter to the Abbe Raynal: "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," See a fine passage on this point in the introduction to the same letter. Now Jefferson had not the genius to produce the Declaration.

If we look also at several passages in the Declaration we can only feel their full force after knowing the previous career of Mr. Paine as Junius in England. Take for example the two paragraphs, 24 and 25, the one of the king and the other of the "British brethren." We see in the one the proud disdain and haughty contempt for the tyrant; in the other that tender sympathy for the English people, with a sly thrust at the Scotch, and then the wounded affection which comes from betrayal of friendship--"the last stab to agonizing affection." And then regathering himself from the affliction of a broken heart, he exclaims, "Manly spirit bids us to renounce forever these unfeeling brethren." But _no_, this can not be done, and in the next breath he says, "we must endeavor to forget our former love for them;" and then comes the wail of anguish in the loss of his native country, "We might have been a great and a free people together, but a communication of grandeur and of freedom it seems is below their dignity. Be it so." He now bends beneath the hand of fate and cries out, "I acquiesce in our eternal separation," but persist in denouncing it. This is the very picture of Mr. Paine's own heart. It is a pitch of enthusiasm and anguish which Mr. Jefferson had neither circumstance in his life nor capacity in his soul to work himself up to. It is neither art nor contrivance, it is the recorded beating of his own heart, the sequel to his previous life.

Take again the passage on human slavery. "He has waged cruel war against human nature itself." It is well known that Mr. Paine, before he wrote Common Sense, attracted the eyes of the world to him by denouncing human slavery in the most impassioned eloquence. This piece he termed "Serious Thoughts," etc. Herein he hopes when the Declaration is made that "our first gratitude to the Almighty may be shown by an act of Continental legislation, which shall put a stop to the importation of negroes, soften the hard fate of those already here, and in time procure their freedom." And he says, long afterward, to the French inhabitants of Louisiana who wished the power to import and enslave Africans, "Dare you put up a petition to Heaven for such a power without fearing to be struck from the earth by its justice?" But the person who wrote the passage on slavery in the original draft of the Declaration could never have kept a slave in bondage, if any thing can be gathered from the nobility, the manliness, the justice, and the philanthropy of its spirit. But Jefferson, while he has left on record his opposition _in words_ to slavery, has left also on record his acts to contradict both them and the Declaration. I here draw the veil over Jefferson as a slaveholder.

While Mr. Jefferson was far above the average mind, yet from his mental make-up, either in his head, heart, character, or capacity, he could not be the author of the Declaration of Independence. Neither in the circumstances of his previous life nor personal history, neither in the heart nor the head, can we find a foundation for the famous document. I know of but one man American born, at that day, with sufficient genius to write it--Benjamin Franklin--and he would have failed in the style and language, and especially in those fine strokes of the affection.[A]

For Mr. Paine to write the Declaration and be ready to hand it to the chairman of the committee, is characteristic of the man. He did the same thing at the "Thatched House" tavern meeting in England in 1791. Mr. Horne Tooke who signed the Address and Declaration as chairman of the meeting, received the document privately from the hand of Mr. Paine, and had Mr. Tooke not afterward disclaimed the authorship of it when charged upon him, Mr. Paine would never have revealed the secret. It was revealed in this manner: Mr. Tooke having spoken in commendation of the Declaration which he signed "was jocularly accused of praising his own work, and to free him from this embarrassment [says Mr. Paine], and the repeated trouble of mentioning the author, _as he has not failed to do_, I make no hesitation in saying, I drew up the publication," etc. Now, Mr. Paine was never guilty of _praising his own work_, and nowhere can I find that he ever praised the Declaration of Independence as a work, or that he ever mentioned Junius but once. [B]Had Mr. Jefferson been the author of the Declaration, Mr. Paine no doubt would have called it "_A masterly performance_."

And thus it is, his hand is seen, though not publicly acknowledged, in all those first principles upon which the fabric of our government rests. And it was the peculiarity of this great man _to do the work, and let others carry off the honors_.

"But truth shall conquer at the last;
For round and round we run,
And ever the right comes uppermost,
And ever is justice done."

NOTE A.

Truly speaking, there is no original Declaration in existence. There are several "original" Declarations extant, all differing somewhat. John Adams had one, Benjamin Franklin, it is said, had one in England. Richard Henry Lee and others had "originals," all in manuscript. The one I have followed may be found in Marshall's Life of Washington, and does not differ, only in a few minor respects, from the one in Jefferson's works, Washington edition. The real _original_ was destroyed as soon as copied, and we have only nature to guide us in the study of one which is almost a faithful copy.

NOTE B.

In 1787, with regard to the Scotch and the Hanover succession, Paine says: "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 toward those who were the immediate means of the Hanover succession._" This _policy_ is what so embittered _Junius_ toward the Scotch. See his letter to the king (No. 35), in which he says: "Nor do I mean to condemn the policy of giving _some_ encouragement to the novelty of their affections for the House of Hanover." Now, Paine says, in connection with the above quotation, which parallels with Junius: "The brilliant pen of Junius was drawn forth, but in vain. It enraptured without convincing; and though in the plentitude of its rage it might be said to give elegance to bitterness, yet the policy survived the blast." Fifteen years had obliterated the prejudice of Paine toward the Scotch.

For this mention of the Scotch by Mr. Paine, in his Prospects on the Rubicon, which had escaped my notice, I am indebted to the critical eye of Wm. Henry Burr, of Washington City.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Since writing the above criticism, I sent for and obtained Theodore Parker's work entitled Historic Sketches. Previous to this I had not read a word of the work. With this explanation I will give two extracts from the work, pp. 281, 282: "Mr. Jefferson had intellectual talents greatly superior to the common mass of men, and for the times his opportunities of culture in youth, were admirable."

"But I can not think his mind a great one. I can not point out any name of those times, which may stand in the long interval [of capacity] between the names of Franklin and John Adams. In the shorter space between Adams and Jefferson there were many. There was a certain lack of solidity; his intellect was not very profound, not very comprehensive. Intelligent, able, adroit as he was, his success as an intellectual man was far from being entire or complete. He exhibited no spark of genius, nor any remarkable degree of original, natural talent."

This so coincides with what I had written, I add it to excite the reader to an investigation, for I know full well, the intellectual fame of Mr. Jefferson will not bear looking into.

[B] See Note B.

GRAND OUTLINES OF THOMAS PAINE'S LIFE.

Were I to write the biography of Thomas Paine, I should, with a bold hand, transcend the low office of a chronicler, and hand him down in history thus:

Thomas Paine was of Quaker origin. In this he inherited more than paternal flesh and blood, more than family form and feature: he had transmitted to him the principles of George Fox--principles which were, when Mr. Paine was born, more than a hundred years old. These were a reliance on the internal evidences of the conscience, prompting to moral action and to the love of God. In this the shadow of Fox fell athwart the Scriptures. The internal light was with him greater than that which shone down on the centuries from Jesus of Nazareth. The religions, and creeds, and opinions of the world were to be brought to the bar of conscience for trial, and "the motions of the spirit"--not the teachings of the Bible--were to be taken in evidence. His principles were universal in the heart of man--not particular in any special book.

To these religious principles was added simplicity of conduct in all the ways of life. In religious or civil affairs, whether at home or abroad, with his fellow-man or his God, he was to obey the behests of nature, and not of man. To avoid the extravagance of dress, to walk with dignity and grace, to deal uprightly, to love mercy, to rely on the light within, to train the heart to courage and the head to understanding, became the chief aim of all the followers of Fox. The consequence was, they never bent the knee to the forms of worship, nor uncovered the head to the forms of fashion. To the Quaker, a virtuous, upright, and honorable laborer was of as much consequence, in the line of respect and the eyes of God, as the noblest lord of the realm. No outward show, no pageantry of church or court, could awaken him to respect. He looked within: there he felt the movings of the spirit, there he saw the image of his God, there he went in to worship.

What must be the result of this religion? It must transmit self-reliance, fortitude, courage, and morality to the individual, and a sympathy for mankind which will grant the equality of rights, and produce a contempt for outward show, for outward forms and ceremonies. These characteristics will be transmitted to children's children, and democracy is born into a race of men before they know it, or before they know how or why. But here an effect must not be taken for a cause. It was the democratic principle abroad in the world which produced the Quaker religion, not this religion which produced it, and this religion became afterward an engine for thrusting democracy more deeply into the constitution of man. It had a work to do, and it did it by inheritance. It was the democracy of Cromwell, "that accomplished President of England," which could sympathize with the religion of Fox, which could see no wrong in the man, and which could protect him from persecution. On the other hand, it was the religion of Penn, which would insult the pride of nobles by not uncovering itself, and bowing in the presence of royalty.

Now, every religion has a birth, growth, culmination, and subsequent decay. It culminates in the production of some great man, who represents, and at the same time transcends, the causes which produced him, and who afterward abandons the religion which gave him birth. It has then fulfilled its work, and will eventually die. Jesus of Nazareth was the fulfillment of the Jewish religion; Luther, of the Catholic. The minor religions obey the same law. Unitarianism culminated in Theodore Parker; Quakerism, in Thomas Paine. At the culminating point, the typical child which is born, grows up, and comes out from or tramples upon the religion which produced him, and is called a "come-outer," a "protester," an "image-breaker," or an "infidel." But he has been produced by causes over which he had no control, and is the result for which they existed. With him the religion declines, and eventually will expire.

The Quaker religion culminated on the 29th of January, 1737, in the little town of Thetford, and county of Norfolk, England, in the birth of Thomas Paine. Here Nature deserted her connection with the meeting, and took up her abode in the soul of the child. She has concentrated herein the democracy of centuries, and the special forces of a hundred years. The great principles of democracy have all been gathered here, and organized into a power which will move the world.

Nature has also given a hardy physical constitution, without corruption of blood or bodily disease, and this health of body shall carry him safe through the three-score and ten, with a fraction of years to spare. Let us now follow the lines of his life.

A religious antagonism between father and mother, both before and after his birth, strengthened the child's mind, for we grow strong only through antagonism. But he inclined to the Quaker principles of the father, who had him privately named, and did not suffer him to be baptized, though he was afterward confirmed by a bishop, through the influence of an aunt. But the outward acts of omission or commission, by priest or parent, counted nothing in the life of the child; for he had thoughts of his own as soon as old enough to reflect, and he had great gifts of inspiration, for there came to him thoughts "which would bolt into the mind of their own accord." Of this intuition or inspiration he says: "I have always made it a rule to treat those voluntary visitors with civility, taking care to examine, as well as I was able, if they were worth entertaining, and it is from them I have acquired almost all the knowledge that I have." Here those inherited principles, the result of previous ages of thought, concentrated within the child's mind, began to teach him, and he listened to their instruction at an early age. "I well remember, when about seven or eight years of age," says he, "hearing a sermon read by a relation of mine, who was a great devotee of the _church_ [not of the Quaker meeting], upon the subject of what is called _redemption by the death of the son of God_. After the sermon was ended, I went into the garden, and as I was going down the garden steps, for I perfectly recollect the spot, I revolted at the recollection of what I had heard, and thought to myself that it was making God Almighty act like a passionate man, that killed his son when he could not revenge himself in any other way; and, as I was sure a man would be hanged that did such a thing, I could not see for what purpose they preached such sermons." Here the young child's mind was shocked, and the "voice of God" within taught him much wisdom--more than he could get in all the sermons of the bishops.

His father, from Quaker principles, gave him moral instruction which never left him in after life. He sent him also, to a grammar school, where he learned some Latin and became acquainted with the subject matter of all the Latin books used in school; but this was clandestinely done, as the Quakers were opposed to the books in which the language was taught. He says he did not study Latin for the above reason, and because he had no taste for it. But at school and at home he gained a useful stock of learning, "the bent of his mind being to science."

But when the lad was thirteen he was taken from school, as it had long been too heavy a tax upon his father, and he was put to work in the shop as stay-maker. He enters into full sympathy with his father, and works by his side three years. The "good father," as he afterward calls him, pays out no more for the son's education; he has already been "sorely pressed" for this purpose.

But during these three years at the stay-making business, many thoughts have "bolted into his mind," strange "voluntary visitors," talking of war, the army and navy. These thoughts have been "heated by the false heroism" of his former master, and have set the lad's mind on fire, burning up all peace and contentment. So in the year 1753, a little the rise of sixteen, he began to carve out his own fortune by going to sea in the privateer, "King of Prussia." The "good father" must have "thought him lost," but this was a phantom of the imagination in both father and son. There is a principle in him which shall hold him steady on land and sea. Restless and venturesome, driven by a force he wots not of, the little island of Britain could not confine him, much less his father's shop. Here he satisfies the war spirit, and tinges his skeptical mind with a slight shade of sailors' superstition. Yet with this adventure of "false heroism against him" in setting out in life, he passes through a schooling with the world which shall make for him mightily in the end. He never considered this beginning in his favor, and has said but little about it. I can not find out how long he lived on the sea, but he turns up at Sandwich five or six years afterward as master stay-maker. Here he married to Mary Lambert, a young woman of much personal worth, who, dying a year afterward, leaves a shade on his mind for life.

But his employment did not suit the turn of his mind, and near the close of 1763 he entered the employ of government as exciseman. For a faithful performance of his duty he was dismissed from this office, because the impartial performance of that duty would expose him to the censure of the power which invested him with office. I say for a faithful performance of his duty he was dismissed, and for these reasons I say it:

1. When he is restored to the same office afterward upon his
petition are these words, "No complaint of the _least dishonesty_
or intemperance appeared against me." And so it was not for a
dereliction of duty.

2. Mr. Paine was a man of uncommon abilities, and it could not be
for want of capacity.

3. Excise officers were compelled sometimes to violate the law to
favor the nobility and the court of the realm, or suffer the
penalty of dismissal. See Vale's Life of Paine, p. 19.

Honest and capable he has wounded the corrupt heart of the government. Too proud to retract, too honest to confess, he is turned out of office to brood over his offense. The government has also stabbed him to the heart, and the stab reaches to the most tender chords, his personal pride, his honor. This sets on fire his whole nature, yet darkly secretive it becomes molten lava in his own breast. It will some day burst forth a consuming fire. "Vengeance is mine," says the war-spirit within him. "Bide thy time," says caution. "Keep thy own council," says secretiveness. He has now an object in view, his resolution is made.

"I will strike the dagger to the heart of profligate lords and courtiers. I will trample on the pride of kings, and fortified with that proud integrity, that disdain to triumph or to yield, I will advocate the rights of man." He now steps forth to begin his _life's work_.

He waits not long to brood over his miseries, but immediately sets off for London to inform the mind. A little the rise of twenty-eight he enters fully into the study of the natural sciences, and teaches in an academy to defray expenses. He attends the philosophical lectures of Mr. Martin and Ferguson, and becomes acquainted with Dr. Bevis, the astronomer and member of the Royal Society. He made himself master of the globes and orrery, and acquired a knowledge of _natural philosophy_, a term which then took in a wide field of science. We find him well acquainted with chemistry, and also the higher mathematics. Here he doubtless studied French, for afterward we find when called from an active life to visit France he could read but not speak the language. Yet this, as well as rhetoric and law, and many other branches of learning, he could acquire while in the employ of government.

It is evident that while at London this year he threw his whole soul into study.

How easily he could have risen to preferment in any branch of natural science must have been well known to himself when coming in contact with these great minds of his age. But he has other work on hand.

There are many reasons for concluding he became acquainted with Franklin this year, among them these five:

1. Because he was eager to cultivate the acquaintance of great men
of science, and Franklin, then in London, stood at the head of
all.

2. Franklin was easy of access to the friends of learning.

3. Mr. Paine would be brought in hearty sympathy with the
representative of the new world, who was at court, to represent
the rights of man.

4. At this very time, Feb. 3, 1766, when we know Mr. Paine was
attending to his studies and cultivating the acquaintance of the
learned, Dr. Franklin was brought more conspicuously before the
English nation than ever before, or thereafter, by undergoing an
examination in the House of Commons upon the policy of repealing
the Stamp Act; and never were the great talents of this great man
exhibited so fully and favorably as then.

5. Mr. Paine says: "The favor of Dr. Franklin's _friendship_ I
possessed in England [and _friendship_ with Mr. Paine means _time
to prove it_], and my introduction to this part of the world was
through his _patronage_." Patronage means to aid or promote a
design. This _design_, and this _friendship_ formed upon which it
was founded, would take some few years with both of these men, for
they were both secretive, reserved, and noncommittal, slow in
forming attachments, and extremely cautious in the selection of
_friends_. "The first foundation of friendship," says Junius, "is
not the power of conferring benefits, but the _equality_ with
which they are received and may be returned."

Mr. Paine now makes application to be restored to the office from which he was dismissed. On his petition was written: "JULY 4TH, 1766; to be restored on a proper vacancy." The FOURTH OF JULY is ominous. Great events are in store for this young man within the next ten years. He quits the society of the learned and the halls of learning, and goes down at the most hopeful and ambitious period of life into this "inferior office of the revenue" to serve for the "petty pittance of less than fifty pounds a year." Does he go there to satisfy his taste for learning, or to get rich? No; but to reach the object of his ambition. He goes there to spy out the meanness, the corruption, the villainy, the abandoned profligacy of the British Government.

The British Government has now a masked enemy who is coming in and going out at the nation's doors, not a spy upon her liberties, but her villainies, a foe to the one and a friend to the other.

But he has not forsaken his studies, he is just entering upon them. Taking up English history he makes it a study, which becomes the history of the civilized world, for it reaches out into Spain, France, Austria, Prussia, Russia, America, India, and Rome. Mr. Paine followed its lines into all countries. He also made a study of her laws and the principles of her constitution, and read the French commentators thereon, at the same time he had an eye to politics and the personal history of her living public men. For three years and a half, together with his public duties, he labored to lay a foundation for a long and active literary life.

Do you ask how I know this? I answer, because when he came to America he was thus accomplished, and when he went into the excise office he was not.

It is now six years since he first entered the employ of government, one year of which time he spent in the arts and sciences, and nearly four as student, officer, and detective for the sons of freedom throughout the world. He is, by nature, a detective of the highest order. He has formed the friendship of Benjamin Franklin, who, at the court, is also a detective, and what he knows of America and the English court shall now be made known. He has written "numberless trifles" for the public press to get his hand in, and now, having a definite plan formed, and a noble object in view, he opens the new year of 1769, with something which indeed is _new_. It was the first Letter of "Junius," named after Junius Brutus, who stabbed Caesar for having usurped the liberties of Rome. Junius thrust home his dagger. This stab went to the heart of a rotten court, and, since Cromwell, it was the greatest thing that ever happened to England. The people read it with mingled sentiments of fear and hope; the partisan read it with fear and rage; the scholar, with feelings of respect; the courtesan, with pallor on his cheek, and trembling in his limbs; and the king and ministers, with sentiments of torture and frenzy. But when Franklin took it up, with what feelings of hope and pride did he read and re-read the paragraphs in regard to the colonies, which began with this sentence: "A series of inconsistent measures has alienated the colonies from their duty as subjects, and from their natural affection to their common country." This is the key note to the Declaration of Independence, which shall appear seven years afterward. The dagger was driven to the hilt. Paine long afterward said: "The cause of America made me an author."

Three years, to a day, and he is Junius no more. His object was revolution on British soil, the ministers brought to trial, and the king deposed. He called for a leader in vain--he wrote against fate. But the work must go on. He consecrates himself anew to the cause; he dedicates his life to the good of man. Friend, kindred, wife, and the dear, native land, weigh lightly in the balance against the "_business of a world_." He leaves them all. His mind has been liberated from the prejudices of an island by the study of astronomy, and a life on the sea, and schooled by disappointment in political strife, he turns his face to the _West_.

He has left his second wife; parted with her forever. Mr. Paine was a man of strong personal attachment; he had deep and lasting affection. But what was wife to the "_business of a world_." Long after this separation, in his old age, after he had gone through two revolutions, the American and the French, Mrs. Paine, though not agreeing with Thomas in religious opinions, on hearing him disrespectfully spoken of because he had written the Age of Reason, indignantly left the company of his revilers. And Mr. Paine, when asked why did you leave your wife, would respond: "I had a cause; it is no business of any body." True to her during life, and she to him, there is more in this than has been revealed.

But before he leaves England there is a definite plan formed, it is revolution and reconciliation; but if not reconciliation, it is revolution and independence. Tyranny shall be destroyed at all hazards. He prepares himself for war, "and if the English Government wins in the contest," says Paine, "she wins from me my life." He leaves all his world's goods for the support of his wife, his capital stock is his pen. Franklin understands it all. He knows full well this son of a Quaker, this Junius of the quill, and he feels the need of him for America's sake, and that scientific head of his thinks soundly on the work which shall tell for the ages. Franklin was then acknowledged to be the greatest man in the world, as he was; and the same judgment which never led him wrong, and which made for him renown, pronounced also on the character and abilities of Thomas Paine. These two men perfectly agreed in politics and religion, and this covers the whole realm of opinion. Their origin and their leading traits of character were the same; secretive, cautious, courageous, and proud of heart, witty and sarcastic, deeply read in the history of the world and of the human heart, having come out of the loins of toil and the lap of poverty, the history of their lives blend and conspire to unite their affections and direct their labors. What these two men shall do, the world is yet too stupid to think about. But their plan is made in England, and under the patronage of the one the other is introduced to America.

If you truly believe Benjamin Franklin to be a fool, let me tell you how you can demonstrate it. Prove to the world that Thomas Paine began his literary life in America, and that Franklin intrusted the greatest work of a nation, and the business of a world to an obscure English exciseman, without previous history or character, and your point is made. Yet this is just what chronologists would have us believe; _but history delves beneath recorded events_.

Franklin was then an old man, he had almost reached his three-score years and ten; Paine was thirty-one years and twelve days the younger. Franklin has fifteen years of life and labor before him yet; Paine thirty-four. The young scion of Democracy is growing up from the same root by the side of the old stalk. Here youth supports old age, and the boughs interlock, and they shall thus stand firm, supported by each other against the terrible shocks which are yet to come during the "hurricane months" of political revolution. "I am the sole depository of my own secret, and it shall perish with me," said Junius; but Franklin had been taught of nature, and the secret was kept.

Near the close of the year 1774, Junius lands in America, and begins to dwell in the capital of the colonies, Philadelphia. Many things conspired to take him there: it was the Quaker city of brotherly love; it was Franklin's home; and, above all, the Continental Congress sat there.

Immediately, that is, within two months after landing, he is employed as editor of the Pennsylvania Magazine. He did not write as editors do, but his contributions appeared over the signature of ATLANTICUS--a name which, like Junius, was the shadow of the writer. From the first he wielded a mighty pen, and his contributions were noticed and highly commended. The following extract is from one of his first efforts in America, and consequently stands almost a year closer to Junius than Common Sense. As it shows the hand of a master, long trained at the art, I give it here, as a perfect sample of Junius: