_Spoken at Lincoln Hall, Philadelphia, Sunday, Jan. 28, '77, for 140th
anniversary of T. P.'s birthday._
Some thirty-five years ago, in New York city, at Tammany hall, of
which place I was then a frequenter, I happen'd to become quite well
acquainted with Thomas Paine's perhaps most intimate chum, and certainly
his later years' very frequent companion, a remarkably fine old man,
Col. Fellows, who may yet be remember'd by some stray relics of that
period and spot. If you will allow me, I will first give a description
of the Colonel himself. He was tall, of military bearing, aged about 78,
I should think, hair white as snow, clean-shaved on the face, dress'd
very neatly, a tail-coat of blue cloth with metal buttons, buff vest,
pantaloons of drab color, and his neck, breast and wrists showing the
whitest of linen. Under all circumstances, fine manners; a good but not
profuse talker, his wits still fully about him, balanced and live
and undimm'd as ever. He kept pretty fair health, though so old. For
employment--for he was poor--he had a post as constable of some of the
upper courts. I used to think him very picturesque on the fringe of a
crowd holding a tall staff, with his erect form, and his superb, bare,
thick-hair'd, closely-cropt white head. The judges and young lawyers,
with whom he was ever a favorite, and the subject of respect, used to
call him Aristides. It was the general opinion among them that if manly
rectitude and the instincts of absolute justice remain'd vital anywhere
about New York City Hall, or Tammany, they were to be found in Col.
Fellows. He liked young men, and enjoy'd to leisurely talk with them
over a social glass of toddy, after his day's work, (he on these
occasions never drank but one glass,) and it was at reiterated meetings
of this kind in old Tammany's back parlor of those days, that he told
me much about Thomas Paine. At one of our interviews he gave me a minute
account of Paine's sickness and death. In short, from those talks, I
was and am satisfied that my old friend, with his mark'd advantages, had
mentally, morally and emotionally gauged the author of "Common Sense,"
and besides giving me a good portrait of his appearance and manners, had
taken the true measure of his interior character.
Paine's practical demeanor, and much of his theoretical belief, was a
mixture of the French and English schools of a century ago, and the best
of both. Like most old-fashion'd people, he drank a glass or two every
day, but was no tippler, nor intemperate, let alone being a drunkard.
He lived simply and economically, but quite well--was always cheery and
courteous, perhaps occasionally a little blunt, having very positive
opinions upon politics, religion, and so forth. That he labor'd well and
wisely for the States in the trying period of their parturition, and in
the seeds of their character, there seems to me no question. I dare
not say how much of what our Union is owning and enjoying to-day--its
independence--its ardent belief in, and substantial practice of
radical human rights--and the severance of its government from all
ecclesiastical and superstitious dominion--I dare not say how much of
all this is owing to Thomas Paine, but I am inclined to think a good
portion of it decidedly is.
But I was not going either into an analysis or eulogium of the man.
I wanted to carry you back a generation or two, and give you by
indirection a moment's glance--and also to ventilate a very earnest and
I believe authentic opinion, nay conviction, of that time, the fruit
of the interviews I have mention'd, and of questioning and
cross-questioning, clench'd by my best information since, that Thomas
Paine had a noble personality, as exhibited in presence, face, voice,
dress, manner, and what may be call'd his atmosphere and magnetism,
especially the later years of his life. I am sure of it. Of the foul and
foolish fictions yet told about the circumstances of his decease, the
absolute fact is that as he lived a good life, after its kind, he died
calmly and philosophically, as became him. He served the embryo Union
with most precious service--a service that every man, woman and child
in our thirty-eight States is to some extent receiving the benefit of
to-day--and I for one here cheerfully, reverently throw my pebble on the
cairn of his memory. As we all know, the season demands--or rather, will
it ever be out of season?--that America learn to better dwell on her
choicest possession, the legacy of her good and faithful men--that she
well preserve their fame, if unquestion'd--or, if need be, that she fail
not to dissipate what clouds have intruded on that fame, and burnish it
newer, truer and brighter, continually.