497
statements by Paine's advocates, on which a vast
amount of argument has been simply wasted. We
have never stated in any form, nor have we ever
supposed, that Paine actually renounced his Infidel-
ity. The accounts agree in stating that he died a
blaspheming Infidel, and his horrible death we regard
as one of the fruits, the fitting complement of his
Infidelity. We have never seen anything that
encouraged the hope that he was not abandoned of
God in his last hours. But we have no doubt, on
the other hand, that having become a wreck in body
and mind through his intemperance, abandoned of
God, deserted by his Infidel companions, and de-
pendent upon Christian charity for the attentions he
received, miserable beyond description in his condi-
tion, and seeing nothing to hope for in the future, he
was afraid to die, and was ready to call upon God
and upon Christ for mercy, and ready perhaps in the
next minute to blaspheme. This is what we referred
to in speaking of Paine's death as cowardly. It is
shown in the testimony we have produced, and still
more fully in that which we now present. The most
wicked men are ready to call upon God in seasons
of great peril, and sometimes ask for Christian min-
istrations when in extreme illness; but they are
often ready on any alleviation of distress to turn to
498
their wickedness again, in the expressive language
of Scripture, "as the sow that was washed to her
wallowing in the mire."
We have never stated or intimated, nor, so far as
we are aware, has any one of our correspondents
stated, that Paine died in poverty. It has been
frequently and truthfully stated that Paine was de-
pendent on Christian charity for the attentions he
received in his last days, and so he was. His Infidel
companions forsook him and Christian hearts and
hands ministered to his wants, notwithstanding the
blasphemies of his death-bed.
Nor has one of our correspondents stated, as
alleged, that Paine died at New Rochelle. The
Rev. Dr. Wickham, who was a resident of that place
nearly fifty years ago, and who was perfectly familiar
with the facts of his life, wrote that Paine spent "his
latter days" on the farm presented to him by
the State of New York, which was strictly true,
but made no reference to it as the place of his
death.
Such misrepresentations serve to show how much
the advocates of Paine admire "truth."
With these explanations we produce further evi-
dence in regard to the manner of Paine's life and the
character of his death, both of which we have already
499
characterized in appropriate terms, as the following
testimony will show.
In regard to Paine's "personal habits," even before
his return to this country, and particularly his aver-
sion to soap and water, Elkana Watson, a gentleman
of the highest social position, who resided in France
during a part of the Revolutionary war, and who
was the personal friend of Washington, Franklin,
and other patriots of the period, makes some inci-
dental statements in his "Men and Times of the
Revolution." Though eulogizing Paine's efforts in
behalf of American Independence, he describes him
as "coarse and uncouth in his manners, loathsome
in his appearance, and a disgusting egotist." On
Paine's arrival at Nantes, the Mayor and other dis-
tinguished citizens called upon him to pay their
respects to the American patriot. Mr. Watson says:
"He was soon rid of his respectable visitors, who
left the room with marks of astonishment and dis-
gust." Mr. W., after much entreaty, and only by
promising him a bundle of newspapers to read while
undergoing the operation, succeeded in prevailing
on Paine to "stew, for an hour, in a hot bath." Mr.
W. accompanied Paine to the bath, and "instructed
the keeper, in French, (which Paine did not under-
stand,) gradually to increase the heat of the water
500
until 'le Monsieur serait bien bouille (until the gentle-
man shall be well boiled;) and adds that "he became
so much absorbed in his reading that he was nearly-
parboiled before leaving the bath, much to his im-
provement and my satisfaction."
William Carver has been cited as a witness in be-
half of Paine, and particularly as to his "personal
habits." In a letter to Paine, dated December 2,
1776, he bears the following testimony:
"A respectable gentlemen from New Rochelle
called to see me a few days back, and said that
everybody was tired of you there, and no one would
undertake to board and lodge you. I thought this
was the case, as I found you at a tavern in a most
miserable situation. You appeared as if you had
not been shaved for a fortnight, and as to a shirt, it
could not be said that you had one on. It was only
the remains of one, and this, likewise, appeared not
to have been off your back for a fortnight, and was
nearly the color of tanned leather; and you had the
most disagreeable smell possible; just like that of
our poor beggars in England. Do you remember the
pains I took to clean you? that I got a tub of warm
water and soap and washed you from head to foot, and
this I had to do three times before I could get you
clean." (And then follow more disgusting details.)
501
"You say, also, that you found your own liquors
during the time you boarded with me; but you
should have said, 'I found only a small part of the
liquor I drank during my stay with you; this part I
purchased of John Fellows, which was a demijohn of
brandy containing four gallons, and this did not serve
me three weeks.' This can be proved, and I mean
not to say anything that I cannot prove; for I hold
truth as a precious jewel. It is a well-known fact,
that you drank one quart of brandy per day, at my
expense, during the different times that you have
boarded with me, the demijohn above mentioned
excepted, and the last fourteen weeks you were sick.
Is not this a supply of liquor for dinner and supper?"
This chosen witness in behalf of Paine, closes his
letter, which is full of loathsome descriptions of
Paine's manner of life, as follows:
"Now, sir, I think I have drawn a complete por-
trait of your character; yet to enter upon every
minutiae would be to give a history of your life, and
to develop the fallacious mask of hypocrisy and de-
ception under which you have acted in your political
as well as moral capacity of life."
(Signed) "William Carver."
Carver had the same opinion of Paine to his dying
day. When an old man, and an Infidel of the Paine
502
type and habits, he was visited by the Rev. E. F.
Hatfield, D.D., of this city, who writes to us of his
interview with Carver, under date of Sept. 27, 1877:
"I conversed with him nearly an hour. I took
special pains to learn from him all that I could about
Paine, whose landlord he had been for eighteen
months. He spoke of him as a base and shameless
drunkard, utterly destitute of moral principle. His
denunciations of the man were perfectly fearful, and
fully confirmed, in my apprehension, all that had been
written of Paine's immorality and repulsiveness."
Cheetham's Life of Paine, which was published
the year that he died, and which has passed through
several editions (we have three of them now before
us) describes a man lost to all moral sensibility and
to all sense of decency, a habitual drunkard, and it is
simply incredible that a book should have appeared
so soon after the death of its subject and should have
been so frequently republished without being at once
refuted, if the testimony were not substantially true.
Many years later, when it was found necessary to
bolster up the reputation of Paine, Cheetham's
Memoirs were called a pack of lies. If only one-
tenth part of what he publishes circumstantially in
his volume, as facts in regard to Paine, were true, all
that has been written against him in later years does
503
not begin to set forth the degraded character of the
man's life. And with all that has been written on
the subject we see no good reason to doubt the sub-
stantial accuracy of Cheetham's portrait of the man
whom he knew so well.
Dr. J. W. Francis, well-known as an eminent phy-
sician, of this city, in his Reminiscences of New York,
says of Paine:
"He who, in his early days, had been associated
with, and had received counsel from Franklin, was,
in his old age, deserted by the humblest menial; he,
whose pen has proved a very sword among nations,
had shaken empires, and made kings tremble, now
yielded up the mastery to the most treacherous of
tyrants, King Alcohol."
The physician who attended Paine during his last
illness was Dr. James R. Manley, a gentleman of the
highest character. A letter of his, written in Octo-
ber of the year that Paine died, fully corroborates
the account of his state as recorded by Stephen
Grellet in his Memoirs, which we have already
printed. He writes:
"New York, October 2, 1809: I was called upon
by accident to visit Mr. Paine, on the 25th of Feb-
ruary last, and found him indisposed with fever, and
very apprehensive of an attack of apoplexy, as he
504
stated that he had that disease before, and at this
time felt a great degree of vertigo, and was unable
to help himself as he had hitherto done, on account
of an intense pain above the eyes. On inquiry of
the attendants I was told that three or four days
previously he had concluded to dispense with his
usual quantity of accustomed stimulus and that he
had on that day resumed it. To the want of his
usual drink they attributed his illness, and it is highly
probable that the usual quantity operating upon a
state of system more excited from the above priva-
tions, was the cause of the symptoms of which he
then complained.... And here let me be per-
mitted to observe (lest blame might attach to those
whose business it was to pay any particular attention
to his cleanliness of person) that it was absolutely
impossible to effect that purpose. Cleanliness ap-
peared to make no part of his comfort; he seemed
to have a singular aversion to soap and water; he
would never ask to be washed, and when he was he
would always make objections; and it was not un-
usual to wash and to dress him clean very much
against his inclinations. In this deplorable state,
with confirmed dropsy, attended with frequent cough,
vomiting and hiccough, he continued growing from
bad to worse till the morning of the 8th of June,
505
when he died. Though I may remark that during
the last three weeks of his life his situation was such
that his decease was confidently expected every day,
his ulcers having assumed a gangrenous appearance,
being excessively fetid, and discolored blisters hav-
ing taken place on the soles of his feet without any
ostensible cause, which baffled the usual attempts to
arrest their progress; and when we consider his
former habits, his advanced age, the feebleness of his
constitution, his constant habit of using ardent spirits
ad libitum till the commencement of his last illness,
so far from wondering that he died so soon, we are
constrained to ask, How did he live so long? Con-
cerning his conduct during his disease I have not
much to remark, though the little I have may be
somewhat interesting. Mr. Paine professed to be
above the fear of death, and a great part of his con-
versation was principally directed to give the impres-
sion that he was perfectly willing to leave this world,
and yet some parts of his conduct were with difficulty
reconcilable with his belief. In the first stages of his
illness he was satisfied to be left alone during the
day, but he required some person to be with him at
night, urging as his reason that he was afraid that
he should die when unattended, and at this period
his deportment and his principle seemed to be con-
506
sistent; so much so that a stranger would judge from
some of the remarks he would make that he was an
Infidel. I recollect being with him at night, watch-
ing; he was very apprehensive of a speedy dissolu-
tion, and suffered great distress of body, and perhaps
of mind (for he was waiting the event of an applica-
tion to the Society of Friends for permission that his
corpse might be deposited in their grave-ground, and
had reason to believe that the request might be
refused), when he remarked in these words, 'I think
I can say what they made Jesus Christ to say--"My
God, my God! why hast thou forsaken me?" He
went on to observe on the want of that respect which
he conceived he merited, when I observed to him
that I thought his corpse should be matter of least
concern to him; that those whom he would leave
behind him would see that he was properly interred,
and, further, that it would be of little consequence to
me where I was deposited provided I was buried;
upon which he answered that he had nothing else to
talk about, and that he would as lief talk of his death
as of anything, but that he was not so indifferent
about his corpse as I appeared to be.
"During the latter part of his life, though his con-
versation was equivocal, his conduct was singular;
he could not be left alone night or day; he not only
507
required to have some person with him, but he must
see that he or she was there, and would not allow
his curtain to be closed at any time; and if, as it
would sometimes unavoidably happen, he was left
alone, he would scream and halloo until some person
came to him. When relief from pain would admit,
he seemed thoughtful and contemplative, his eyes
being generally closed, and his hands folded upon
his breast, although he never slept without the assist-
ance of an anodyne. There was something remark-
able in his conduct about this period (which comprises
about two weeks immediately preceding his death),
particularly when we reflect that Thomas Paine was
the author of the 'Age of Reason.' He would call
out during his paroxysms of distress, without inter-
mission, 'O Lord help me! God help me! Jesus
Christ help me! Lord help me!' etc., repeating the
same expressions without the least variation, in a
tone of voice that would alarm the house. It was
this conduct which induced me to think that he had
abandoned his former opinions, and I was more
inclined to that belief when I understood from his
nurse (who is a very serious and, I believe, pious
woman), that he would occasionally inquire, when he
saw her engaged with a book, what she was reading,
and, being answered, and at the same time asked
508
whether she should read aloud, he assented, and
would appear to give particular attention.
"I took occasion during the nights of the fifth
and sixth of June to test the strength of his opinions
respecting revelation. I purposely made him a very
late visit; it was a time which seemed to suit exactly
with my errand; it was midnight, he was in great
distress, constantly exclaiming in the words above
mentioned, when, after a considerable preface, I
addressed him in the following manner, the nurse
being present: 'Mr. Paine, your opinions, by a large
portion of the community, have been treated with
deference, you have never been in the habit of mix-
ing in your conversation words of coarse meaning;
you have never indulged in the practice of profane
swearing; you must be sensible that we are ac-
quainted with your religious opinions as they are
given to the world. What must we think of your
present conduct? Why do you call upon Jesus
Christ to help you? Do you believe that he can
help you? Do you believe in the divinity of Jesus
Christ? Come, now, answer me honestly. I want
an answer from the lips of a dying man, for I verily
believe that you will not live twenty-four hours.' I
waited some time at the end of every question; he
did not answer, but ceased to exclaim in the above
509
manner. Again I addressed him; 'Mr. Paine, you
have not answered my questions; will you answer
them? Allow me to ask again, do you believe? or
let me qualify the question, do you wish to believe
that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?' After a pause
of some minutes, he answered, 'I have no wish to
believe on that subject.' I then left him, and knew
not whether he afterward spoke to any person on
any subject, though he lived, as I before observed,
till the morning of the 8th. Such conduct, under
usual circumstances, I conceive absolutely unaccount-
able, though, with diffidence, I would remark, not so
much so in the present instance; for though the first
necessary and general result of conviction be a sin-
cere wish to atone for evil committed, yet it may be
a question worthy of able consideration whether
excessive pride of opinion, consummate vanity, and
inordinate self-love might not prevent or retard that
otherwise natural consequence. For my own part,
I believe that had not Thomas Paine been such a
distinguished Infidel he would have left less equivo-
cal evidences of a change of opinion. Concerning
the persons who visited Mr. Paine in his distress as
his personal friends, I heard very little, though I may
observe that their number was small, and of that
number there were not wanting those who endeavor-
510
ed to support him in his deistical opinions, and to
encourage him to 'die like a man,' to 'hold fast his
integrity,' lest Christians, or, as they were pleased to
term them, hypocrites, might take advantage of his
weakness, and furnish themselves with a weapon by
which they might hope to destroy their glorious sys-
tem of morals. Numbers visited him from motives
of benevolence and Christian charity, endeavoring to
effect a change of mind in respect to his religious
sentiments. The labor of such was apparently lost,
and they pretty generally received such treatment
from him as none but good men would risk a second
time, though some of those persons called frequently."
The following testimony will be new to most of
our readers. It is from a letter written by Bishop
Fenwick (Roman Catholic Bishop of Boston), con-
taining a full account of a visit which he paid to
Paine in his last illness. It was printed in the _United
States Catholic Magazine_ for 1846; in the _Catholic
Herald_ of Philadelphia, October 15, 1846; in a sup-
plement to the _Hartford Courant_, October 23, 1847;
and in _Littell's Living Age_ for January 22, 1848,
from which we copy. Bishop Fenwick writes:
"A short time before Paine died I was sent for by
him. He was prompted to this by a poor Catholic
woman who went to see him in his sickness, and
511
who told him, among other things, that in his
wretched condition if anybody could do him any
good it would be a Roman Catholic priest. This
woman was an American convert (formerly a Shak-
ing Quakeress) whom I had received into the church
but a few weeks before. She was the bearer of this
message to me from Paine. I stated this circum-
stance to F. Kohlmann, at breakfast, and requested
him to accompany me. After some solicitation on
my part he agreed to do so? at which I was greatly
rejoiced, because I was at the time quite young and
inexperienced in the ministry, and was glad to have
his assistance, as I knew, from the great reputation
of Paine, that I should have to do with one of the
most impious as well as infamous of men. We
shortly after set out for the house at Greenwich
where Paine lodged, and on the way agreed on a
mode of proceeding with him.
"We arrived at the house; a decent-looking elderly
woman (probably his housekeeper,) came to the
door and inquired whether we were the Catholic
priests, for said she, 'Mr. Paine has been so much
annoyed of late by other denominations calling upon
him that he has left express orders with me to admit
no one to-day but the clergymen of the Catholic
Church. Upon assuring her that we were Catholic
512
clergymen she opened the door and showed us into
the parlor. She then left the room and shortly after
returned to inform us that Paine was asleep, and, at
the same time, expressed a wish that we would not
disturb him, 'for,' said she, 'he is always in a bad
humor when roused out of his sleep. It is better we
wait a little till he be awake.' We accordingly sat
down and resolved to await a more favorable moment.
'Gentlemen,' said the lady, after having taken her
seat also, 'I really wish you may succeed with Mr.
Paine, for he is laboring under great distress of mind
ever since he was informed by his physicians that he
cannot possibly live and must die shortly. He sent
for you to-day because he was told that if any one
could do him good you might. Possibly he may
think you know of some remedy which his physicians
are ignorant of. He is truly to be pitied. His cries
when he is left alone are heart-rending. 'O Lord
help me!' he will exclaim during his paroxysms of
distress--'God help me--Jesus Christ help me!'
repeating the same expressions without the least
variation, in a tone of voice that would alarm the
house. Sometimes he will say, 'O God, what have
I done to suffer so much!' then, shortly after, 'But
there is no God,' and again a little after, 'Yet if
there should be, what would become of me hereafter.'
513
Thus he will continue for some time, when on a sud-
den he will scream, as if in terror and agony, and
call out for me by name. On one of these occasions,
which are very frequent, I went to him and inquired
what he wanted. 'Stay with me,' he replied, 'for
God's sake, for I cannot bear to be left alone.' I
then observed that I could not always be with him,
as I had much to attend to in the house. 'Then,' said
he, 'send even a child to stay with me, for it is a
hell to be alone.' 'I never saw,' she concluded, 'a
more unhappy, a more forsaken man. It seems he
cannot reconcile himself to die.'
"Such was the conversation of the woman who
had received us, and who probably had been employ-
ed to nurse and take care of him during his illness.
She was a Protestant, yet seemed very desirous that
we should afford him some relief in his state of
abandonment, bordering on complete despair. Hav-
ing remained thus some time in the parlor, we at
length heard a noise in the adjoining passage-way,
which induced us to believe that Mr. Paine, who was
sick in that room, had awoke. We accordingly pro-
posed to proceed thither, which was assented to by
the woman, and she opened the door for us. On
entering, we found him just getting out of his
slumber. A more wretched being in appearance I
514
never beheld. He was lying in a bed sufficiently
decent of itself, but at present besmeared with filth;
his look was that of a man greatly tortured in mind;
his eyes haggard, his countenance forbidding, and
his whole appearance that of one whose better days
had been one continued scene of debauch. His only
nourishment at this time, as we were informed, was
nothing more than milk punch, in which he indulged
to the full extent of his weak state. He had par-
taken, undoubtedly, but very recently of it, as the
sides and corners of his mouth exhibited very un-
equivocal traces of it, as well as of blood, which had
also followed in the track and left its mark on the
pillow. His face, to a certain extent, had also been
besmeared with it."
Immediately upon their making known the object
of their visit, Paine interrupted the speaker by say-
ing: "That's enough, sir; that's enough," and again
interrupting him, "I see what you would be about.
I wish to hear no more from you, sir. My mind is
made up on that subject. I look upon the whole of
the Christian scheme to be a tissue of absurdities
and lies, and Jesus Christ to be nothing more than a
cunning knave and impostor." He drove them out
of the room, exclaiming: Away with you and your
God, too; leave the room instantly; all that you
515
have uttered are lies--filthy lies; and if I had a
little more time I would prove it, as I did about
your impostor, Jesus Christ."
This, we think, will suffice. We have a mass of
letters containing statements confirmatory of what
we have published in regard to the life and death of
Paine, but nothing more can be required.