I recollect not a single passage in all the writings ascribed to the

men called apostles, that conveys any idea of what God is. Those

writings are chiefly controversial; and the gloominess of the subject

they dwell upon, that of a man dying in agony on a cross, is better

suited to the gloomy genius of a monk in a cell, by whom it is not

impossible they were written, than to any man breathing the open air of

the Creation. The only passage that occurs to me, that has any

reference to the works of God, by which only his power and wisdom can

be known, is related to have been spoken by Jesus Christ, as a remedy

against distrustful care. “Behold the lilies of the field, they toil

not, neither do they spin.” This, however, is far inferior to the

allusions in Job and in the 19th Psalm; but it is similar in idea, and

the modesty of the imagery is correspondent to the modesty of the man.

CHAPTER XI.

OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE CHRISTIANS; AND THE TRUE THEOLOGY.

As to the Christian system of faith, it appears to me as a species of

atheism; a sort of religious denial of God. It professes to believe in

a man rather than in God. It is a compound made up chiefly of man-ism

with but little deism, and is as near to atheism as twilight is to

darkness. It introduces between man and his Maker an opaque body, which

it calls a redeemer, as the moon introduces her opaque self between the

earth and the sun, and it produces by this means a religious or an

irreligious eclipse of light. It has put the whole orbit of reason into

shade.

The effect of this obscurity has been that of turning everything upside

down, and representing it in reverse; and among the revolutions it has

thus magically produced, it has made a revolution in Theology.

That which is now called natural philosophy, embracing the whole circle

of science, of which astronomy occupies the chief place, is the study

of the works of God, and of the power and wisdom of God in his works,

and is the true theology.

As to the theology that is now studied in its place, it is the study of

human opinions and of human fancies concerning God. It is not the study

of God himself in the works that he has made, but in the works or

writings that man has made; and it is not among the least of the

mischiefs that the Christian system has done to the world, that it has

abandoned the original and beautiful system of theology, like a

beautiful innocent, to distress and reproach, to make room for the hag

of superstition.

The Book of Job and the 19th Psalm, which even the church admits to be

more ancient than the chronological order in which they stand in the

book called the Bible, are theological orations conformable to the

original system of theology. The internal evidence of those orations

proves to a demonstration that the study and contemplation of the works

of creation, and of the power and wisdom of God revealed and manifested

in those works, made a great part of the religious devotion of the

times in which they were written; and it was this devotional study and

contemplation that led to the discovery of the principles upon which

what are now called Sciences are established; and it is to the

discovery of these principles that almost all the Arts that contribute

to the convenience of human life owe their existence. Every principal

art has some science for its parent, though the person who mechanically

performs the work does not always, and but very seldom, perceive the

connection.

It is a fraud of the Christian system to call the sciences ‘human

inventions;’ it is only the application of them that is human. Every

science has for its basis a system of principles as fixed and

unalterable as those by which the universe is regulated and governed.

Man cannot make principles, he can only discover them.

For example: Every person who looks at an almanack sees an account when

an eclipse will take place, and he sees also that it never fails to

take place according to the account there given. This shows that man is

acquainted with the laws by which the heavenly bodies move. But it

would be something worse than ignorance, were any church on earth to

say that those laws are an human invention.

It would also be ignorance, or something worse, to say that the

scientific principles, by the aid of which man is enabled to calculate

and foreknow when an eclipse will take place, are an human invention.

Man cannot invent any thing that is eternal and immutable; and the

scientific principles he employs for this purpose must, and are, of

necessity, as eternal and immutable as the laws by which the heavenly

bodies move, or they could not be used as they are to ascertain the

time when, and the manner how, an eclipse will take place.

The scientific principles that man employs to obtain the foreknowledge

of an eclipse, or of any thing else relating to the motion of the

heavenly bodies, are contained chiefly in that part of science that is

called trigonometry, or the properties of a triangle, which, when

applied to the study of the heavenly bodies, is called astronomy; when

applied to direct the course of a ship on the ocean, it is called

navigation; when applied to the construction of figures drawn by a rule

and compass, it is called geometry; when applied to the construction of

plans of edifices, it is called architecture; when applied to the

measurement of any portion of the surface of the earth, it is called

land-surveying. In fine, it is the soul of science. It is an eternal

truth: it contains the mathematical demonstration of which man speaks,

and the extent of its uses are unknown.

It may be said, that man can make or draw a triangle, and therefore a

triangle is an human invention.

But the triangle, when drawn, is no other than the image of the

principle: it is a delineation to the eye, and from thence to the mind,

of a principle that would otherwise be imperceptible. The triangle does

not make the principle, any more than a candle taken into a room that

was dark, makes the chairs and tables that before were invisible. All

the properties of a triangle exist independently of the figure, and

existed before any triangle was drawn or thought of by man. Man had no

more to do in the formation of those properties or principles, than he

had to do in making the laws by which the heavenly bodies move; and

therefore the one must have the same divine origin as the other.

In the same manner as, it may be said, that man can make a triangle, so

also, may it be said, he can make the mechanical instrument called a

lever. But the principle by which the lever acts, is a thing distinct

from the instrument, and would exist if the instrument did not; it

attaches itself to the instrument after it is made; the instrument,

therefore, can act no otherwise than it does act; neither can all the

efforts of human invention make it act otherwise. That which, in all

such cases, man calls the effect, is no other than the principle itself

rendered perceptible to the senses.

Since, then, man cannot make principles, from whence did he gain a

knowledge of them, so as to be able to apply them, not only to things

on earth, but to ascertain the motion of bodies so immensely distant

from him as all the heavenly bodies are? From whence, I ask, could he

gain that knowledge, but from the study of the true theology?

It is the structure of the universe that has taught this knowledge to

man. That structure is an ever-existing exhibition of every principle

upon which every part of mathematical science is founded. The offspring

of this science is mechanics; for mechanics is no other than the

principles of science applied practically. The man who proportions the

several parts of a mill uses the same scientific principles as if he

had the power of constructing an universe, but as he cannot give to

matter that invisible agency by which all the component parts of the

immense machine of the universe have influence upon each other, and act

in motional unison together, without any apparent contact, and to which

man has given the name of attraction, gravitation, and repulsion, he

supplies the place of that agency by the humble imitation of teeth and

cogs. All the parts of man’s microcosm must visibly touch. But could he

gain a knowledge of that agency, so as to be able to apply it in

practice, we might then say that another canonical book of the word of

God had been discovered.

If man could alter the properties of the lever, so also could he alter

the properties of the triangle: for a lever (taking that sort of lever

which is called a steel-yard, for the sake of explanation) forms, when

in motion, a triangle. The line it descends from, (one point of that

line being in the fulcrum,) the line it descends to, and the chord of

the arc, which the end of the lever describes in the air, are the three

sides of a triangle. The other arm of the lever describes also a

triangle; and the corresponding sides of those two triangles,

calculated scientifically, or measured geometrically,—and also the

sines, tangents, and secants generated from the angles, and

geometrically measured,—have the same proportions to each other as the

different weights have that will balance each other on the lever,

leaving the weight of the lever out of the case.

It may also be said, that man can make a wheel and axis; that he can

put wheels of different magnitudes together, and produce a mill. Still

the case comes back to the same point, which is, that he did not make

the principle that gives the wheels those powers. This principle is as

unalterable as in the former cases, or rather it is the same principle

under a different appearance to the eye.

The power that two wheels of different magnitudes have upon each other

is in the same proportion as if the semi-diameter of the two wheels

were joined together and made into that kind of lever I have described,

suspended at the part where the semi-diameters join; for the two

wheels, scientifically considered, are no other than the two circles

generated by the motion of the compound lever.

It is from the study of the true theology that all our knowledge of

science is derived; and it is from that knowledge that all the arts

have originated.

The Almighty lecturer, by displaying the principles of science in the

structure of the universe, has invited man to study and to imitation.

It is as if he had said to the inhabitants of this globe that we call

ours, “I have made an earth for man to dwell upon, and I have rendered

the starry heavens visible, to teach him science and the arts. He can

now provide for his own comfort, AND LEARN FROM MY MUNIFICENCE TO ALL,

TO BE KIND TO EACH OTHER.”

Of what use is it, unless it be to teach man something, that his eye is

endowed with the power of beholding, to an incomprehensible distance,

an immensity of worlds revolving in the ocean of space? Or of what use

is it that this immensity of worlds is visible to man? What has man to

do with the Pleiades, with Orion, with Sirius, with the star he calls

the north star, with the moving orbs he has named Saturn, Jupiter,

Mars, Venus, and Mercury, if no uses are to follow from their being

visible? A less power of vision would have been sufficient for man, if

the immensity he now possesses were given only to waste itself, as it

were, on an immense desert of space glittering with shows.

It is only by contemplating what he calls the starry heavens, as the

book and school of science, that he discovers any use in their being

visible to him, or any advantage resulting from his immensity of

vision. But when he contemplates the subject in this light, he sees an

additional motive for saying, that nothing was made in vain; for in

vain would be this power of vision if it taught man nothing.

CHAPTER XII.

THE EFFECTS OF CHRISTIANISM ON EDUCATION; PROPOSED REFORMS

As the Christian system of faith has made a revolution in theology, so

also has it made a revolution in the state of learning. That which is

now called learning, was not learning originally. Learning does not

consist, as the schools now make it consist, in the knowledge of

languages, but in the knowledge of things to which language gives

names.

The Greeks were a learned people, but learning with them did not

consist in speaking Greek, any more than in a Roman’s speaking Latin,

or a Frenchman’s speaking French, or an Englishman’s speaking English.

From what we know of the Greeks, it does not appear that they knew or

studied any language but their own, and this was one cause of their

becoming so learned; it afforded them more time to apply themselves to

better studies. The schools of the Greeks were schools of science and

philosophy, and not of languages; and it is in the knowledge of the

things that science and philosophy teach that learning consists.

Almost all the scientific learning that now exists, came to us from the

Greeks, or the people who spoke the Greek language. It therefore became

necessary to the people of other nations, who spoke a different

language, that some among them should learn the Greek language, in

order that the learning the Greeks had might be made known in those

nations, by translating the Greek books of science and philosophy into

the mother tongue of each nation.

The study, therefore, of the Greek language (and in the same manner for

the Latin) was no other than the drudgery business of a linguist; and

the language thus obtained, was no other than the means, or as it were

the tools, employed to obtain the learning the Greeks had. It made no

part of the learning itself; and was so distinct from it as to make it

exceedingly probable that the persons who had studied Greek

sufficiently to translate those works, such for instance as Euclid’s

Elements, did not understand any of the learning the works contained.

As there is now nothing new to be learned from the dead languages, all

the useful books being already translated, the languages are become

useless, and the time expended in teaching and in learning them is

wasted. So far as the study of languages may contribute to the progress

and communication of knowledge (for it has nothing to do with the

creation of knowledge) it is only in the living languages that new

knowledge is to be found; and certain it is, that, in general, a youth

will learn more of a living language in one year, than of a dead

language in seven; and it is but seldom that the teacher knows much of

it himself. The difficulty of learning the dead languages does not

arise from any superior abstruseness in the languages themselves, but

in their being dead, and the pronunciation entirely lost. It would be

the same thing with any other language when it becomes dead. The best

Greek linguist that now exists does not understand Greek so well as a

Grecian plowman did, or a Grecian milkmaid; and the same for the Latin,

compared with a plowman or a milkmaid of the Romans; and with respect

to pronunciation and idiom, not so well as the cows that she milked. It

would therefore be advantageous to the state of learning to abolish the

study of the dead languages, and to make learning consist, as it

originally did, in scientific knowledge.

The apology that is sometimes made for continuing to teach the dead

languages is, that they are taught at a time when a child is not

capable of exerting any other mental faculty than that of memory. But

this is altogether erroneous. The human mind has a natural disposition

to scientific knowledge, and to the things connected with it. The first

and favourite amusement of a child, even before it begins to play, is

that of imitating the works of man. It builds houses with cards or

sticks; it navigates the little ocean of a bowl of water with a paper

boat; or dams the stream of a gutter, and contrives something which it

calls a mill; and it interests itself in the fate of its works with a

care that resembles affection. It afterwards goes to school, where its

genius is killed by the barren study of a dead language, and the

philosopher is lost in the linguist.

But the apology that is now made for continuing to teach the dead

languages, could not be the cause at first of cutting down learning to

the narrow and humble sphere of linguistry; the cause therefore must be

sought for elsewhere. In all researches of this kind, the best evidence

that can be produced, is the internal evidence the thing carries with

itself, and the evidence of circumstances that unites with it; both of

which, in this case, are not difficult to be discovered.

Putting then aside, as matter of distinct consideration, the outrage

offered to the moral justice of God, by supposing him to make the

innocent suffer for the guilty, and also the loose morality and low

contrivance of supposing him to change himself into the shape of a man,

in order to make an excuse to himself for not executing his supposed

sentence upon Adam; putting, I say, those things aside as matter of

distinct consideration, it is certain that what is called the christian

system of faith, including in it the whimsical account of the

creation—the strange story of Eve, the snake, and the apple—the

amphibious idea of a man-god—the corporeal idea of the death of a

god—the mythological idea of a family of gods, and the christian system

of arithmetic, that three are one, and one is three, are all

irreconcilable, not only to the divine gift of reason, that God has

given to man, but to the knowledge that man gains of the power and

wisdom of God by the aid of the sciences, and by studying the structure

of the universe that God has made.

The setters up, therefore, and the advocates of the Christian system of

faith, could not but foresee that the continually progressive knowledge

that man would gain by the aid of science, of the power and wisdom of

God, manifested in the structure of the universe, and in all the works

of creation, would militate against, and call into question, the truth

of their system of faith; and therefore it became necessary to their

purpose to cut learning down to a size less dangerous to their project,

and this they effected by restricting the idea of learning to the dead

study of dead languages.

They not only rejected the study of science out of the christian

schools, but they persecuted it; and it is only within about the last

two centuries that the study has been revived. So late as 1610,

Galileo, a Florentine, discovered and introduced the use of telescopes,

and by applying them to observe the motions and appearances of the

heavenly bodies, afforded additional means for ascertaining the true

structure of the universe. Instead of being esteemed for these

discoveries, he was sentenced to renounce them, or the opinions

resulting from them, as a damnable heresy. And prior to that time

Virgilius was condemned to be burned for asserting the antipodes, or in

other words, that the earth was a globe, and habitable in every part

where there was land; yet the truth of this is now too well known even

to be told. [NOTE: I cannot discover the source of this statement

concerning the ancient author whose Irish name Feirghill was Latinized

into Virgilius. The British Museum possesses a copy of the work

(Decalogiunt) which was the pretext of the charge of heresy made by

Boniface, Archbishop of Mayence, against Virgilius, Abbot—bishop of

Salzburg, These were leaders of the rival “British” and “Roman parties,

and the British champion made a countercharge against Boniface of

irreligious practices.” Boniface had to express a “regret,” but none

the less pursued his rival. The Pope, Zachary II., decided that if his

alleged “doctrine, against God and his soul, that beneath the earth

there is another world, other men, or sun and moon,” should be

acknowledged by Virgilius, he should be excommunicated by a Council and

condemned with canonical sanctions. Whatever may have been the fate

involved by condemnation with “canonicis sanctionibus,” in the middle

of the eighth century, it did not fall on Virgilius. His accuser,

Boniface, was martyred, 755, and it is probable that Virgilius

harmonied his Antipodes with orthodoxy. The gravamen of the heresy

seems to have been the suggestion that there were men not of the

progeny of Adam. Virgilius was made Bishop of Salzburg in 768. He bore

until his death, 789, the curious title, “Geometer and Solitary,” or

“lone wayfarer” (Solivagus). A suspicion of heresy clung to his memory

until 1233, when he was raised by Gregory IX, to sainthood beside his

accuser, St. Boniface.—Editor. (Conway)]

If the belief of errors not morally bad did no mischief, it would make

no part of the moral duty of man to oppose and remove them. There was

no moral ill in believing the earth was flat like a trencher, any more

than there was moral virtue in believing it was round like a globe;

neither was there any moral ill in believing that the Creator made no

other world than this, any more than there was moral virtue in

believing that he made millions, and that the infinity of space is

filled with worlds. But when a system of religion is made to grow out

of a supposed system of creation that is not true, and to unite itself

therewith in a manner almost inseparable therefrom, the case assumes an

entirely different ground. It is then that errors, not morally bad,

become fraught with the same mischiefs as if they were. It is then that

the truth, though otherwise indifferent itself, becomes an essential,

by becoming the criterion that either confirms by corresponding

evidence, or denies by contradictory evidence, the reality of the

religion itself. In this view of the case it is the moral duty of man

to obtain every possible evidence that the structure of the heavens, or

any other part of creation affords, with respect to systems of

religion. But this, the supporters or partizans of the christian

system, as if dreading the result, incessantly opposed, and not only

rejected the sciences, but persecuted the professors. Had Newton or

Descartes lived three or four hundred years ago, and pursued their

studies as they did, it is most probable they would not have lived to

finish them; and had Franklin drawn lightning from the clouds at the

same time, it would have been at the hazard of expiring for it in

flames.

Later times have laid all the blame upon the Goths and Vandals, but,

however unwilling the partizans of the Christian system may be to

believe or to acknowledge it, it is nevertheless true, that the age of

ignorance commenced with the Christian system. There was more knowledge

in the world before that period, than for many centuries afterwards;

and as to religious knowledge, the Christian system, as already said,

was only another species of mythology; and the mythology to which it

succeeded, was a corruption of an ancient system of theism. [NOTE by

Paine: It is impossible for us now to know at what time the heathen

mythology began; but it is certain, from the internal evidence that it

carries, that it did not begin in the same state or condition in which

it ended. All the gods of that mythology, except Saturn, were of modern

invention. The supposed reign of Saturn was prior to that which is

called the heathen mythology, and was so far a species of theism that

it admitted the belief of only one God. Saturn is supposed to have

abdicated the govemment in favour of his three sons and one daughter,

Jupiter, Pluto, Neptune, and Juno; after this, thousands of other gods

and demigods were imaginarily created, and the calendar of gods

increased as fast as the calendar of saints and the calendar of courts

have increased since.

All the corruptions that have taken place, in theology and in religion

have been produced by admitting of what man calls ‘revealed religion.’

The mythologists pretended to more revealed religion than the

christians do. They had their oracles and their priests, who were

supposed to receive and deliver the word of God verbally on almost all

occasions.

Since then all corruptions down from Moloch to modern

predestinarianism, and the human sacrifices of the heathens to the

christian sacrifice of the Creator, have been produced by admitting of

what is called revealed religion, the most effectual means to prevent

all such evils and impositions is, not to admit of any other revelation

than that which is manifested in the book of Creation., and to

contemplate the Creation as the only true and real word of God that

ever did or ever will exist; and every thing else called the word of

God is fable and imposition.—Author.]

It is owing to this long interregnum of science, and to no other cause,

that we have now to look back through a vast chasm of many hundred

years to the respectable characters we call the Ancients. Had the

progression of knowledge gone on proportionably with the stock that

before existed, that chasm would have been filled up with characters

rising superior in knowledge to each other; and those Ancients we now

so much admire would have appeared respectably in the background of the

scene. But the christian system laid all waste; and if we take our

stand about the beginning of the sixteenth century, we look back

through that long chasm, to the times of the Ancients, as over a vast

sandy desert, in which not a shrub appears to intercept the vision to

the fertile hills beyond.

It is an inconsistency scarcely possible to be credited, that any thing

should exist, under the name of a religion, that held it to be

irreligious to study and contemplate the structure of the universe that

God had made. But the fact is too well established to be denied. The

event that served more than any other to break the first link in this

long chain of despotic ignorance, is that known by the name of the

Reformation by Luther. From that time, though it does not appear to

have made any part of the intention of Luther, or of those who are

called Reformers, the Sciences began to revive, and Liberality, their

natural associate, began to appear. This was the only public good the

Reformation did; for, with respect to religious good, it might as well

not have taken place. The mythology still continued the same; and a

multiplicity of National Popes grew out of the downfall of the Pope of

Christendom.

CHAPTER XIII.

COMPARISON OF CHRISTIANISM WITH THE RELIGIOUS IDEAS INSPIRED BY NATURE

Having thus shewn, from the internal evidence of things, the cause that

produced a change in the state of learning, and the motive for

substituting the study of the dead languages, in the place of the

Sciences, I proceed, in addition to the several observations already

made in the former part of this work, to compare, or rather to

confront, the evidence that the structure of the universe affords, with

the christian system of religion. But as I cannot begin this part

better than by referring to the ideas that occurred to me at an early

part of life, and which I doubt not have occurred in some degree to

almost every other person at one time or other, I shall state what

those ideas were, and add thereto such other matter as shall arise out

of the subject, giving to the whole, by way of preface, a short

introduction.

My father being of the quaker profession, it was my good fortune to

have an exceedingly good moral education, and a tolerable stock of

useful learning. Though I went to the grammar school, I did not learn

Latin, not only because I had no inclination to learn languages, but

because of the objection the quakers have against the books in which

the language is taught. But this did not prevent me from being

acquainted with the subjects of all the Latin books used in the school.

The natural bent of my mind was to science. I had some turn, and I

believe some talent for poetry; but this I rather repressed than

encouraged, as leading too much into the field of imagination. As soon

as I was able, I purchased a pair of globes, and attended the

philosophical lectures of Martin and Ferguson, and became afterwards

acquainted with Dr. Bevis, of the society called the Royal Society,

then living in the Temple, and an excellent astronomer.

I had no disposition for what was called politics. It presented to my

mind no other idea than is contained in the word jockeyship. When,

therefore, I turned my thoughts towards matters of government, I had to

form a system for myself, that accorded with the moral and philosophic

principles in which I had been educated. I saw, or at least I thought I

saw, a vast scene opening itself to the world in the affairs of

America; and it appeared to me, that unless the Americans changed the

plan they were then pursuing, with respect to the government of

England, and declared themselves independent, they would not only

involve themselves in a multiplicity of new difficulties, but shut out

the prospect that was then offering itself to mankind through their

means. It was from these motives that I published the work known by the

name of Common Sense, which is the first work I ever did publish, and

so far as I can judge of myself, I believe I should never have been

known in the world as an author on any subject whatever, had it not

been for the affairs of America. I wrote Common Sense the latter end of

the year 1775, and published it the first of January, 1776.

Independence was declared the fourth of July following. [NOTE: The

pamphlet Common Sense was first advertised, as “just published,” on

January 10, 1776. His plea for the Officers of Excise, written before

leaving England, was printed, but not published until 1793. Despite his

reiterated assertion that Common Sense was the first work he ever

published the notion that he was “junius” still finds some believers.

An indirect comment on our Paine-Junians may be found in Part 2 of this

work where Paine says a man capable of writing Homer “would not have

thrown away his own fame by giving it to another.” It is probable that

Paine ascribed the Letters of Junius to Thomas Hollis. His friend F.

Lanthenas, in his translation of the Age of Reason (1794) advertises

his translation of the Letters of Junius from the English “(Thomas

Hollis).” This he could hardly have done without consultation with

Paine. Unfortunately this translation of Junius cannot be found either

in the Bibliotheque Nationale or the British Museum, and it cannot be

said whether it contains any attempt at an identification of

Junius—Editor.]

Any person, who has made observations on the state and progress of the

human mind, by observing his own, can not but have observed, that there

are two distinct classes of what are called Thoughts; those that we

produce in ourselves by reflection and the act of thinking, and those

that bolt into the mind of their own accord. 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. As

to the learning that any person gains from school education, it serves

only, like a small capital, to put him in the way of beginning learning

for himself afterwards. Every person of learning is finally his own

teacher; the reason of which is, that principles, being of a distinct

quality to circumstances, cannot be impressed upon the memory; their

place of mental residence is the understanding, and they are never so

lasting as when they begin by conception. Thus much for the

introductory part.

From the time I was capable of conceiving an idea, and acting upon it

by reflection, I either doubted the truth of the christian system, or

thought it to be a strange affair; I scarcely knew which it was: but I

well remember, when about seven or eight years of age, hearing a sermon

read by a relation of mine, who was a great devotee of the church, 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 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. This was not one of those kind

of thoughts that had any thing in it of childish levity; it was to me a

serious reflection, arising from the idea I had that God was too good

to do such an action, and also too almighty to be under any necessity

of doing it. I believe in the same manner to this moment; and I

moreover believe, that any system of religion that has anything in it

that shocks the mind of a child, cannot be a true system.

It seems as if parents of the christian profession were ashamed to tell

their children any thing about the principles of their religion. They

sometimes instruct them in morals, and talk to them of the goodness of

what they call Providence; for the Christian mythology has five

deities: there is God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, the

God Providence, and the Goddess Nature. But the christian story of God

the Father putting his son to death, or employing people to do it, (for

that is the plain language of the story,) cannot be told by a parent to

a child; and to tell him that it was done to make mankind happier and

better, is making the story still worse; as if mankind could be

improved by the example of murder; and to tell him that all this is a

mystery, is only making an excuse for the incredibility of it.

How different is this to the pure and simple profession of Deism! The

true deist has but one Deity; and his religion consists in

contemplating the power, wisdom, and benignity of the Deity in his

works, and in endeavouring to imitate him in every thing moral,

scientifical, and mechanical.

The religion that approaches the nearest of all others to true Deism,

in the moral and benign part thereof, is that professed by the quakers:

but they have contracted themselves too much by leaving the works of

God out of their system. Though I reverence their philanthropy, I can

not help smiling at the conceit, that if the taste of a quaker could

have been consulted at the creation, what a silent and drab-colored

creation it would have been! Not a flower would have blossomed its

gaieties, nor a bird been permitted to sing.

Quitting these reflections, I proceed to other matters. After I had

made myself master of the use of the globes, and of the orrery, [NOTE

by Paine: As this book may fall into the bands of persons who do not

know what an orrery is, it is for their information I add this note, as

the name gives no idea of the uses of the thing. The orrery has its

name from the person who invented it. It is a machinery of clock-work,

representing the universe in miniature: and in which the revolution of

the earth round itself and round the sun, the revolution of the moon

round the earth, the revolution of the planets round the sun, their

relative distances from the sun, as the center of the whole system,

their relative distances from each other, and their different

magnitudes, are represented as they really exist in what we call the

heavens.—Author.] and conceived an idea of the infinity of space, and

of the eternal divisibility of matter, and obtained, at least, a

general knowledge of what was called natural philosophy, I began to

compare, or, as I have before said, to confront, the internal evidence

those things afford with the christian system of faith.

Though it is not a direct article of the christian system that this

world that we inhabit is the whole of the habitable creation, yet it is

so worked up therewith, from what is called the Mosaic account of the

creation, the story of Eve and the apple, and the counterpart of that

story, the death of the Son of God, that to believe otherwise, that is,

to believe that God created a plurality of worlds, at least as numerous

as what we call stars, renders the christian system of faith at once

little and ridiculous; and scatters it in the mind like feathers in the

air. The two beliefs can not be held together in the same mind; and he

who thinks that he believes both, has thought but little of either.

Though the belief of a plurality of worlds was familiar to the

ancients, it is only within the last three centuries that the extent

and dimensions of this globe that we inhabit have been ascertained.

Several vessels, following the tract of the ocean, have sailed entirely

round the world, as a man may march in a circle, and come round by the

contrary side of the circle to the spot he set out from. The circular

dimensions of our world, in the widest part, as a man would measure the

widest round of an apple, or a ball, is only twenty-five thousand and

twenty English miles, reckoning sixty-nine miles and an half to an

equatorial degree, and may be sailed round in the space of about three

years. [NOTE by Paine: Allowing a ship to sail, on an average, three

miles in an hour, she would sail entirely round the world in less than

one year, if she could sail in a direct circle, but she is obliged to

follow the course of the ocean.—Author.]

A world of this extent may, at first thought, appear to us to be great;

but if we compare it with the immensity of space in which it is

suspended, like a bubble or a balloon in the air, it is infinitely less

in proportion than the smallest grain of sand is to the size of the

world, or the finest particle of dew to the whole ocean, and is

therefore but small; and, as will be hereafter shown, is only one of a

system of worlds, of which the universal creation is composed.

It is not difficult to gain some faint idea of the immensity of space

in which this and all the other worlds are suspended, if we follow a

progression of ideas. When we think of the size or dimensions of, a

room, our ideas limit themselves to the walls, and there they stop. But

when our eye, or our imagination darts into space, that is, when it

looks upward into what we call the open air, we cannot conceive any

walls or boundaries it can have; and if for the sake of resting our

ideas we suppose a boundary, the question immediately renews itself,

and asks, what is beyond that boundary? and in the same manner, what

beyond the next boundary? and so on till the fatigued imagination

returns and says, there is no end. Certainly, then, the Creator was not

pent for room when he made this world no larger than it is; and we have

to seek the reason in something else.

If we take a survey of our own world, or rather of this, of which the

Creator has given us the use as our portion in the immense system of

creation, we find every part of it, the earth, the waters, and the air

that surround it, filled, and as it were crowded with life, down from

the largest animals that we know of to the smallest insects the naked

eye can behold, and from thence to others still smaller, and totally

invisible without the assistance of the microscope. Every tree, every

plant, every leaf, serves not only as an habitation, but as a world to

some numerous race, till animal existence becomes so exceedingly

refined, that the effluvia of a blade of grass would be food for

thousands.

Since then no part of our earth is left unoccupied, why is it to be

supposed that the immensity of space is a naked void, lying in eternal

waste? There is room for millions of worlds as large or larger than

ours, and each of them millions of miles apart from each other.

Having now arrived at this point, if we carry our ideas only one

thought further, we shall see, perhaps, the true reason, at least a

very good reason for our happiness, why the Creator, instead of making

one immense world, extending over an immense quantity of space, has

preferred dividing that quantity of matter into several distinct and

separate worlds, which we call planets, of which our earth is one. But

before I explain my ideas upon this subject, it is necessary (not for

the sake of those that already know, but for those who do not) to show

what the system of the universe is.

CHAPTER XIV.

SYSTEM OF THE UNIVERSE.

That part of the universe that is called the solar system (meaning the

system of worlds to which our earth belongs, and of which Sol, or in

English language, the Sun, is the center) consists, besides the Sun, of

six distinct orbs, or planets, or worlds, besides the secondary bodies,

called the satellites, or moons, of which our earth has one that

attends her in her annual revolution round the Sun, in like manner as

the other satellites or moons, attend the planets or worlds to which

they severally belong, as may be seen by the assistance of the

telescope.

The Sun is the center round which those six worlds or planets revolve

at different distances therefrom, and in circles concentric to each

other. Each world keeps constantly in nearly the same tract round the

Sun, and continues at the same time turning round itself, in nearly an

upright position, as a top turns round itself when it is spinning on

the ground, and leans a little sideways.

It is this leaning of the earth (23 1/2 degrees) that occasions summer

and winter, and the different length of days and nights. If the earth

turned round itself in a position perpendicular to the plane or level

of the circle it moves in round the Sun, as a top turns round when it

stands erect on the ground, the days and nights would be always of the

same length, twelve hours day and twelve hours night, and the season

would be uniformly the same throughout the year.

Every time that a planet (our earth for example) turns round itself, it

makes what we call day and night; and every time it goes entirely round

the Sun, it makes what we call a year, consequently our world turns

three hundred and sixty-five times round itself, in going once round

the Sun.

The names that the ancients gave to those six worlds, and which are

still called by the same names, are Mercury, Venus, this world that we

call ours, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. They appear larger to the eye

than the stars, being many million miles nearer to our earth than any

of the stars are. The planet Venus is that which is called the evening

star, and sometimes the morning star, as she happens to set after, or

rise before the Sun, which in either case is never more than three

hours.

The Sun as before said being the center, the planet or world nearest

the Sun is Mercury; his distance from the Sun is thirty-four million

miles, and he moves round in a circle always at that distance from the

Sun, as a top may be supposed to spin round in the tract in which a

horse goes in a mill. The second world is Venus; she is fifty-seven

million miles distant from the Sun, and consequently moves round in a

circle much greater than that of Mercury. The third world is this that

we inhabit, and which is eighty-eight million miles distant from the

Sun, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of

Venus. The fourth world is Mars; he is distant from the sun one hundred

and thirty-four million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle

greater than that of our earth. The fifth is Jupiter; he is distant

from the Sun five hundred and fifty-seven million miles, and

consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of Mars. The

sixth world is Saturn; he is distant from the Sun seven hundred and

sixty-three million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle

that surrounds the circles or orbits of all the other worlds or

planets.

The space, therefore, in the air, or in the immensity of space, that

our solar system takes up for the several worlds to perform their

revolutions in round the Sun, is of the extent in a strait line of the

whole diameter of the orbit or circle in which Saturn moves round the

Sun, which being double his distance from the Sun, is fifteen hundred

and twenty-six million miles; and its circular extent is nearly five

thousand million; and its globical content is almost three thousand

five hundred million times three thousand five hundred million square

miles. [NOTE by Paine: If it should be asked, how can man know these

things? I have one plain answer to give, which is, that man knows how

to calculate an eclipse, and also how to calculate to a minute of time

when the planet Venus, in making her revolutions round the Sun, will

come in a strait line between our earth and the Sun, and will appear to

us about the size of a large pea passing across the face of the Sun.

This happens but twice in about a hundred years, at the distance of

about eight years from each other, and has happened twice in our time,

both of which were foreknown by calculation. It can also be known when

they will happen again for a thousand years to come, or to any other

portion of time. As therefore, man could not be able to do these things

if he did not understand the solar system, and the manner in which the

revolutions of the several planets or worlds are performed, the fact of

calculating an eclipse, or a transit of Venus, is a proof in point that

the knowledge exists; and as to a few thousand, or even a few million

miles, more or less, it makes scarcely any sensible difference in such

immense distances.—Author.]

But this, immense as it is, is only one system of worlds. Beyond this,

at a vast distance into space, far beyond all power of calculation, are

the stars called the fixed stars. They are called fixed, because they

have no revolutionary motion, as the six worlds or planets have that I

have been describing. Those fixed stars continue always at the same

distance from each other, and always in the same place, as the Sun does

in the center of our system. The probability, therefore, is that each

of those fixed stars is also a Sun, round which another system of

worlds or planets, though too remote for us to discover, performs its

revolutions, as our system of worlds does round our central Sun. By

this easy progression of ideas, the immensity of space will appear to

us to be filled with systems of worlds; and that no part of space lies

at waste, any more than any part of our globe of earth and water is

left unoccupied.

Having thus endeavoured to convey, in a familiar and easy manner, some

idea of the structure of the universe, I return to explain what I

before alluded to, namely, the great benefits arising to man in

consequence of the Creator having made a Plurality of worlds, such as

our system is, consisting of a central Sun and six worlds, besides

satellites, in preference to that of creating one world only of a vast

extent.

CHAPTER XV.

ADVANTAGES OF THE EXISTENCE OF MANY WORLDS IN EACH SOLAR SYSTEM

It is an idea I have never lost sight of, that all our knowledge of

science is derived from the revolutions (exhibited to our eye and from

thence to our understanding) which those several planets or worlds of

which our system is composed make in their circuit round the Sun.

Had then the quantity of matter which these six worlds contain been

blended into one solitary globe, the consequence to us would have been,

that either no revolutionary motion would have existed, or not a

sufficiency of it to give us the ideas and the knowledge of science we

now have; and it is from the sciences that all the mechanical arts that

contribute so much to our earthly felicity and comfort are derived.

As therefore the Creator made nothing in vain, so also must it be

believed that he organized the structure of the universe in the most

advantageous manner for the benefit of man; and as we see, and from

experience feel, the benefits we derive from the structure of the

universe, formed as it is, which benefits we should not have had the

opportunity of enjoying if the structure, so far as relates to our

system, had been a solitary globe, we can discover at least one reason

why a plurality of worlds has been made, and that reason calls forth

the devotional gratitude of man, as well as his admiration.

But it is not to us, the inhabitants of this globe, only, that the

benefits arising from a plurality of worlds are limited. The

inhabitants of each of the worlds of which our system is composed,

enjoy the same opportunities of knowledge as we do. They behold the

revolutionary motions of our earth, as we behold theirs. All the

planets revolve in sight of each other; and, therefore, the same

universal school of science presents itself to all.

Neither does the knowledge stop here. The system of worlds next to us

exhibits, in its revolutions, the same principles and school of

science, to the inhabitants of their system, as our system does to us,

and in like manner throughout the immensity of space.

Our ideas, not only of the almightiness of the Creator, but of his

wisdom and his beneficence, become enlarged in proportion as we

contemplate the extent and the structure of the universe. The solitary

idea of a solitary world, rolling or at rest in the immense ocean of

space, gives place to the cheerful idea of a society of worlds, so

happily contrived as to administer, even by their motion, instruction

to man. We see our own earth filled with abundance; but we forget to

consider how much of that abundance is owing to the scientific

knowledge the vast machinery of the universe has unfolded.

CHAPTER XVI.

APPLICATION OF THE PRECEDING TO THE SYSTEM OF THE CHRISTIANS

But, in the midst of those reflections, what are we to think of the

christian system of faith that forms itself upon the idea of only one

world, and that of no greater extent, as is before shown, than

twenty-five thousand miles. An extent which a man, walking at the rate

of three miles an hour for twelve hours in the day, could he keep on in

a circular direction, would walk entirely round in less than two years.

Alas! what is this to the mighty ocean of space, and the almighty power

of the Creator!

From whence then could arise the solitary and strange conceit that the

Almighty, who had millions of worlds equally dependent on his

protection, should quit the care of all the rest, and come to die in

our world, because, they say, one man and one woman had eaten an apple!

And, on the other hand, are we to suppose that every world in the

boundless creation had an Eve, an apple, a serpent, and a redeemer? In

this case, the person who is irreverently called the Son of God, and

sometimes God himself, would have nothing else to do than to travel

from world to world, in an endless succession of death, with scarcely a

momentary interval of life.

It has been by rejecting the evidence, that the word, or works of God

in the creation, affords to our senses, and the action of our reason

upon that evidence, that so many wild and whimsical systems of faith,

and of religion, have been fabricated and set up. There may be many

systems of religion that so far from being morally bad are in many

respects morally good: but there can be but ONE that is true; and that

one necessarily must, as it ever will, be in all things consistent with

the ever existing word of God that we behold in his works. But such is

the strange construction of the christian system of faith, that every

evidence the heavens affords to man, either directly contradicts it or

renders it absurd.

It is possible to believe, and I always feel pleasure in encouraging

myself to believe it, that there have been men in the world who

persuaded themselves that what is called a pious fraud, might, at least

under particular circumstances, be productive of some good. But the

fraud being once established, could not afterwards be explained; for it

is with a pious fraud as with a bad action, it begets a calamitous

necessity of going on.

The persons who first preached the christian system of faith, and in

some measure combined with it the morality preached by Jesus Christ,

might persuade themselves that it was better than the heathen mythology

that then prevailed. From the first preachers the fraud went on to the

second, and to the third, till the idea of its being a pious fraud

became lost in the belief of its being true; and that belief became

again encouraged by the interest of those who made a livelihood by

preaching it.

But though such a belief might, by such means, be rendered almost

general among the laity, it is next to impossible to account for the

continual persecution carried on by the church, for several hundred

years, against the sciences, and against the professors of science, if

the church had not some record or tradition that it was originally no

other than a pious fraud, or did not foresee that it could not be

maintained against the evidence that the structure of the universe

afforded.

CHAPTER XVII.

OF THE MEANS EMPLOYED IN ALL TIME, AND ALMOST UNIVERSALLY, TO DECEIVE

THE PEOPLES

Having thus shown the irreconcileable inconsistencies between the real

word of God existing in the universe, and that which is called the word

of God, as shown to us in a printed book that any man might make, I

proceed to speak of the three principal means that have been employed

in all ages, and perhaps in all countries, to impose upon mankind.

Those three means are Mystery, Miracle, and Prophecy, The first two are

incompatible with true religion, and the third ought always to be

suspected.

With respect to Mystery, everything we behold is, in one sense, a

mystery to us. Our own existence is a mystery: the whole vegetable

world is a mystery. We cannot account how it is that an acorn, when put

into the ground, is made to develop itself and become an oak. We know

not how it is that the seed we sow unfolds and multiplies itself, and

returns to us such an abundant interest for so small a capital.

The fact however, as distinct from the operating cause, is not a

mystery, because we see it; and we know also the means we are to use,

which is no other than putting the seed in the ground. We know,

therefore, as much as is necessary for us to know; and that part of the

operation that we do not know, and which if we did, we could not

perform, the Creator takes upon himself and performs it for us. We are,

therefore, better off than if we had been let into the secret, and left

to do it for ourselves.

But though every created thing is, in this sense, a mystery, the word

mystery cannot be applied to moral truth, any more than obscurity can

be applied to light. The God in whom we believe is a God of moral

truth, and not a God of mystery or obscurity. Mystery is the antagonist

of truth. It is a fog of human invention that obscures truth, and

represents it in distortion. Truth never envelops itself in mystery;

and the mystery in which it is at any time enveloped, is the work of

its antagonist, and never of itself.

Religion, therefore, being the belief of a God, and the practice of

moral truth, cannot have connection with mystery. The belief of a God,

so far from having any thing of mystery in it, is of all beliefs the

most easy, because it arises to us, as is before observed, out of

necessity. And the practice of moral truth, or, in other words, a

practical imitation of the moral goodness of God, is no other than our

acting towards each other as he acts benignly towards all. We cannot

serve God in the manner we serve those who cannot do without such

service; and, therefore, the only idea we can have of serving God, is

that of contributing to the happiness of the living creation that God

has made. This cannot be done by retiring ourselves from the society of

the world, and spending a recluse life in selfish devotion.

The very nature and design of religion, if I may so express it, prove

even to demonstration that it must be free from every thing of mystery,

and unincumbered with every thing that is mysterious. Religion,

considered as a duty, is incumbent upon every living soul alike, and,

therefore, must be on a level to the understanding and comprehension of

all. Man does not learn religion as he learns the secrets and mysteries

of a trade. He learns the theory of religion by reflection. It arises

out of the action of his own mind upon the things which he sees, or

upon what he may happen to hear or to read, and the practice joins

itself thereto.

When men, whether from policy or pious fraud, set up systems of

religion incompatible with the word or works of God in the creation,

and not only above but repugnant to human comprehension, they were

under the necessity of inventing or adopting a word that should serve

as a bar to all questions, inquiries and speculations. The word mystery

answered this purpose, and thus it has happened that religion, which is

in itself without mystery, has been corrupted into a fog of mysteries.

As mystery answered all general purposes, miracle followed as an

occasional auxiliary. The former served to bewilder the mind, the

latter to puzzle the senses. The one was the lingo, the other the

legerdemain.

But before going further into this subject, it will be proper to

inquire what is to be understood by a miracle.

In the same sense that every thing may be said to be a mystery, so also

may it be said that every thing is a miracle, and that no one thing is

a greater miracle than another. The elephant, though larger, is not a

greater miracle than a mite: nor a mountain a greater miracle than an

atom. To an almighty power it is no more difficult to make the one than

the other, and no more difficult to make a million of worlds than to

make one. Every thing, therefore, is a miracle, in one sense; whilst,

in the other sense, there is no such thing as a miracle. It is a

miracle when compared to our power, and to our comprehension. It is not

a miracle compared to the power that performs it. But as nothing in

this description conveys the idea that is affixed to the word miracle,

it is necessary to carry the inquiry further.

Mankind have conceived to themselves certain laws, by which what they

call nature is supposed to act; and that a miracle is something

contrary to the operation and effect of those laws. But unless we know

the whole extent of those laws, and of what are commonly called the

powers of nature, we are not able to judge whether any thing that may

appear to us wonderful or miraculous, be within, or be beyond, or be

contrary to, her natural power of acting.

The ascension of a man several miles high into the air, would have

everything in it that constitutes the idea of a miracle, if it were not

known that a species of air can be generated several times lighter than

the common atmospheric air, and yet possess elasticity enough to

prevent the balloon, in which that light air is inclosed, from being

compressed into as many times less bulk, by the common air that

surrounds it. In like manner, extracting flashes or sparks of fire from

the human body, as visibly as from a steel struck with a flint, and

causing iron or steel to move without any visible agent, would also

give the idea of a miracle, if we were not acquainted with electricity

and magnetism; so also would many other experiments in natural

philosophy, to those who are not acquainted with the subject. The

restoring persons to life who are to appearance dead as is practised

upon drowned persons, would also be a miracle, if it were not known

that animation is capable of being suspended without being extinct.

Besides these, there are performances by slight of hand, and by persons

acting in concert, that have a miraculous appearance, which, when

known, are thought nothing of. And, besides these, there are mechanical

and optical deceptions. There is now an exhibition in Paris of ghosts

or spectres, which, though it is not imposed upon the spectators as a

fact, has an astonishing appearance. As, therefore, we know not the

extent to which either nature or art can go, there is no criterion to

determine what a miracle is; and mankind, in giving credit to

appearances, under the idea of their being miracles, are subject to be

continually imposed upon.

Since then appearances are so capable of deceiving, and things not real

have a strong resemblance to things that are, nothing can be more

inconsistent than to suppose that the Almighty would make use of means,

such as are called miracles, that would subject the person who

performed them to the suspicion of being an impostor, and the person

who related them to be suspected of lying, and the doctrine intended to

be supported thereby to be suspected as a fabulous invention.

Of all the modes of evidence that ever were invented to obtain belief

to any system or opinion to which the name of religion has been given,

that of miracle, however successful the imposition may have been, is

the most inconsistent. For, in the first place, whenever recourse is

had to show, for the purpose of procuring that belief (for a miracle,

under any idea of the word, is a show) it implies a lameness or

weakness in the doctrine that is preached. And, in the second place, it

is degrading the Almighty into the character of a show-man, playing

tricks to amuse and make the people stare and wonder. It is also the

most equivocal sort of evidence that can be set up; for the belief is

not to depend upon the thing called a miracle, but upon the credit of

the reporter, who says that he saw it; and, therefore, the thing, were

it true, would have no better chance of being believed than if it were

a lie.

Suppose I were to say, that when I sat down to write this book, a hand

presented itself in the air, took up the pen and wrote every word that

is herein written; would any body believe me? Certainly they would not.

Would they believe me a whit the more if the thing had been a fact?

Certainly they would not. Since then a real miracle, were it to happen,

would be subject to the same fate as the falsehood, the inconsistency

becomes the greater of supposing the Almighty would make use of means

that would not answer the purpose for which they were intended, even if

they were real.

If we are to suppose a miracle to be something so entirely out of the

course of what is called nature, that she must go out of that course to

accomplish it, and we see an account given of such a miracle by the

person who said he saw it, it raises a question in the mind very easily

decided, which is,—Is it more probable that nature should go out of her

course, or that a man should tell a lie? We have never seen, in our

time, nature go out of her course; but we have good reason to believe

that millions of lies have been told in the same time; it is,

therefore, at least millions to one, that the reporter of a miracle

tells a lie.

The story of the whale swallowing Jonah, though a whale is large enough

to do it, borders greatly on the marvellous; but it would have

approached nearer to the idea of a miracle, if Jonah had swallowed the

whale. In this, which may serve for all cases of miracles, the matter

would decide itself as before stated, namely, Is it more probable that

a man should have, swallowed a whale, or told a lie?

But suppose that Jonah had really swallowed the whale, and gone with it

in his belly to Nineveh, and to convince the people that it was true

have cast it up in their sight, of the full length and size of a whale,

would they not have believed him to have been the devil instead of a

prophet? or if the whale had carried Jonah to Nineveh, and cast him up

in the same public manner, would they not have believed the whale to

have been the devil, and Jonah one of his imps?

The most extraordinary of all the things called miracles, related in

the New Testament, is that of the devil flying away with Jesus Christ,

and carrying him to the top of a high mountain; and to the top of the

highest pinnacle of the temple, and showing him and promising to him

all the kingdoms of the world. How happened it that he did not discover

America? or is it only with kingdoms that his sooty highness has any

interest.

I have too much respect for the moral character of Christ to believe

that he told this whale of a miracle himself: neither is it easy to

account for what purpose it could have been fabricated, unless it were

to impose upon the connoisseurs of miracles, as is sometimes practised

upon the connoisseurs of Queen Anne’s farthings, and collectors of

relics and antiquities; or to render the belief of miracles ridiculous,

by outdoing miracle, as Don Quixote outdid chivalry; or to embarrass

the belief of miracles, by making it doubtful by what power, whether of

God or of the devil, any thing called a miracle was performed. It

requires, however, a great deal of faith in the devil to believe this

miracle.

In every point of view in which those things called miracles can be

placed and considered, the reality of them is improbable, and their

existence unnecessary. They would not, as before observed, answer any

useful purpose, even if they were true; for it is more difficult to

obtain belief to a miracle, than to a principle evidently moral,

without any miracle. Moral principle speaks universally for itself.

Miracle could be but a thing of the moment, and seen but by a few;

after this it requires a transfer of faith from God to man to believe a

miracle upon man’s report. Instead, therefore, of admitting the

recitals of miracles as evidence of any system of religion being true,

they ought to be considered as symptoms of its being fabulous. It is

necessary to the full and upright character of truth that it rejects

the crutch; and it is consistent with the character of fable to seek

the aid that truth rejects. Thus much for Mystery and Miracle.

As Mystery and Miracle took charge of the past and the present,

Prophecy took charge of the future, and rounded the tenses of faith. It

was not sufficient to know what had been done, but what would be done.

The supposed prophet was the supposed historian of times to come; and

if he happened, in shooting with a long bow of a thousand years, to

strike within a thousand miles of a mark, the ingenuity of posterity

could make it point-blank; and if he happened to be directly wrong, it

was only to suppose, as in the case of Jonah and Nineveh, that God had

repented himself and changed his mind. What a fool do fabulous systems

make of man!

It has been shewn, in a former part of this work, that the original

meaning of the words prophet and prophesying has been changed, and that

a prophet, in the sense of the word as now used, is a creature of

modern invention; and it is owing to this change in the meaning of the

words, that the flights and metaphors of the Jewish poets, and phrases

and expressions now rendered obscure by our not being acquainted with

the local circumstances to which they applied at the time they were

used, have been erected into prophecies, and made to bend to

explanations at the will and whimsical conceits of sectaries,

expounders, and commentators. Every thing unintelligible was

prophetical, and every thing insignificant was typical. A blunder would

have served for a prophecy; and a dish-clout for a type.

If by a prophet we are to suppose a man to whom the Almighty

communicated some event that would take place in future, either there

were such men, or there were not. If there were, it is consistent to

believe that the event so communicated would be told in terms that

could be understood, and not related in such a loose and obscure manner

as to be out of the comprehension of those that heard it, and so

equivocal as to fit almost any circumstance that might happen

afterwards. It is conceiving very irreverently of the Almighty, to

suppose he would deal in this jesting manner with mankind; yet all the

things called prophecies in the book called the Bible come under this

description.

But it is with Prophecy as it is with Miracle. It could not answer the

purpose even if it were real. Those to whom a prophecy should be told

could not tell whether the man prophesied or lied, or whether it had

been revealed to him, or whether he conceited it; and if the thing that

he prophesied, or pretended to prophesy, should happen, or some thing

like it, among the multitude of things that are daily happening, nobody

could again know whether he foreknew it, or guessed at it, or whether

it was accidental. A prophet, therefore, is a character useless and

unnecessary; and the safe side of the case is to guard against being

imposed upon, by not giving credit to such relations.

Upon the whole, Mystery, Miracle, and Prophecy, are appendages that

belong to fabulous and not to true religion. They are the means by

which so many Lo heres! and Lo theres! have been spread about the

world, and religion been made into a trade. The success of one impostor

gave encouragement to another, and the quieting salvo of doing some

good by keeping up a pious fraud protected them from remorse.

RECAPITULATION

Having now extended the subject to a greater length than I first

intended, I shall bring it to a close by abstracting a summary from the

whole.

First, That the idea or belief of a word of God existing in print, or

in writing, or in speech, is inconsistent in itself for the reasons

already assigned. These reasons, among many others, are the want of an

universal language; the mutability of language; the errors to which

translations are subject, the possibility of totally suppressing such a

word; the probability of altering it, or of fabricating the whole, and

imposing it upon the world.

Secondly, That the Creation we behold is the real and ever existing

word of God, in which we cannot be deceived. It proclaimeth his power,

it demonstrates his wisdom, it manifests his goodness and beneficence.

Thirdly, That the moral duty of man consists in imitating the moral

goodness and beneficence of God manifested in the creation towards all

his creatures. That seeing as we daily do the goodness of God to all

men, it is an example calling upon all men to practise the same towards

each other; and, consequently, that every thing of persecution and

revenge between man and man, and every thing of cruelty to animals, is

a violation of moral duty.

I trouble not myself about the manner of future existence. I content

myself with believing, even to positive conviction, that the power that

gave me existence is able to continue it, in any form and manner he

pleases, either with or without this body; and it appears more probable

to me that I shall continue to exist hereafter than that I should have

had existence, as I now have, before that existence began.

It is certain that, in one point, all nations of the earth and all

religions agree. All believe in a God. The things in which they

disgrace are the redundancies annexed to that belief; and therefore, if

ever an universal religion should prevail, it will not be believing any

thing new, but in getting rid of redundancies, and believing as man

believed at first. [“In the childhood of the world,” according to the

first (French) version; and the strict translation of the final

sentence is: “Deism was the religion of Adam, supposing him not an

imaginary being; but none the less must it be left to all men to

follow, as is their right, the religion and worship they

prefer.”—Editor.] Adam, if ever there was such a man, was created a

Deist; but in the mean time, let every man follow, as he has a right to

do, the religion and worship he prefers.

THE AGE OF REASON - PART II

PREFACE

I have mentioned in the former part of The Age of Reason that it had

long been my intention to publish my thoughts upon Religion; but that I

had originally reserved it to a later period in life, intending it to

be the last work I should undertake. The circumstances, however, which

existed in France in the latter end of the year 1793, determined me to

delay it no longer. The just and humane principles of the Revolution

which Philosophy had first diffused, had been departed from. The Idea,

always dangerous to Society as it is derogatory to the Almighty,—that

priests could forgive sins,—though it seemed to exist no longer, had

blunted the feelings of humanity, and callously prepared men for the

commission of all crimes. The intolerant spirit of church persecution

had transferred itself into politics; the tribunals, stiled

Revolutionary, supplied the place of an Inquisition; and the Guillotine

of the Stake. I saw many of my most intimate friends destroyed; others

daily carried to prison; and I had reason to believe, and had also

intimations given me, that the same danger was approaching myself.

Under these disadvantages, I began the former part of the Age of

Reason; I had, besides, neither Bible nor Testament [It must be borne

in mind that throughout this work Paine generally means by “Bible” only

the Old Testament, and speaks of the New as the “Testament.”—Editor.]

to refer to, though I was writing against both; nor could I procure

any; notwithstanding which I have produced a work that no Bible

Believer, though writing at his ease and with a Library of Church Books

about him, can refute. Towards the latter end of December of that year,

a motion was made and carried, to exclude foreigners from the

Convention. There were but two, Anacharsis Cloots and myself; and I saw

I was particularly pointed at by Bourdon de l’Oise, in his speech on

that motion.

Conceiving, after this, that I had but a few days of liberty, I sat

down and brought the work to a close as speedily as possible; and I had

not finished it more than six hours, in the state it has since

appeared, [This is an allusion to the essay which Paine wrote at an

earlier part of 1793. See Introduction.—Editor.] before a guard came

there, about three in the morning, with an order signed by the two

Committees of Public Safety and Surety General, for putting me in

arrestation as a foreigner, and conveying me to the prison of the

Luxembourg. I contrived, in my way there, to call on Joel Barlow, and I

put the Manuscript of the work into his hands, as more safe than in my

possession in prison; and not knowing what might be the fate in France

either of the writer or the work, I addressed it to the protection of

the citizens of the United States.

It is justice that I say, that the guard who executed this order, and

the interpreter to the Committee of General Surety, who accompanied

them to examine my papers, treated me not only with civility, but with

respect. The keeper of the ‘Luxembourg, Benoit, a man of good heart,

shewed to me every friendship in his power, as did also all his family,

while he continued in that station. He was removed from it, put into

arrestation, and carried before the tribunal upon a malignant

accusation, but acquitted.

After I had been in Luxembourg about three weeks, the Americans then in

Paris went in a body to the Convention to reclaim me as their

countryman and friend; but were answered by the President, Vadier, who

was also President of the Committee of Surety General, and had signed

the order for my arrestation, that I was born in England. [These

excited Americans do not seem to have understood or reported the most

important item in Vadeer’s reply, namely that their application was

“unofficial,” i.e. not made through or sanctioned by Gouverneur Morris,

American Minister. For the detailed history of all this see vol.

iii.—Editor.] I heard no more, after this, from any person out of the

walls of the prison, till the fall of Robespierre, on the 9th of

Thermidor—July 27, 1794.

About two months before this event, I was seized with a fever that in

its progress had every symptom of becoming mortal, and from the effects

of which I am not recovered. It was then that I remembered with renewed

satisfaction, and congratulated myself most sincerely, on having

written the former part of The Age of Reason. I had then but little

expectation of surviving, and those about me had less. I know therefore

by experience the conscientious trial of my own principles.

I was then with three chamber comrades: Joseph Vanheule of Bruges,

Charles Bastfni, and Michael Robyns of Louvain. The unceasing and

anxious attention of these three friends to me, by night and day, I

remember with gratitude and mention with pleasure. It happened that a

physician (Dr. Graham) and a surgeon, (Mr. Bond,) part of the suite of

General O’Hara, [The officer who at Yorktown, Virginia, carried out the

sword of Cornwallis for surrender, and satirically offered it to

Rochambeau instead of Washington. Paine loaned him 300 pounds when he

(O’Hara) left the prison, the money he had concealed in the lock of his

cell-door.—Editor.] were then in the Luxembourg: I ask not myself

whether it be convenient to them, as men under the English Government,

that I express to them my thanks; but I should reproach myself if I did

not; and also to the physician of the Luxembourg, Dr. Markoski.

I have some reason to believe, because I cannot discover any other,

that this illness preserved me in existence. Among the papers of

Robespierre that were examined and reported upon to the Convention by a

Committee of Deputies, is a note in the hand writing of Robespierre, in

the following words:

“Demander que Thomas Paine soit decrete d’accusation, pour l’interet de

l’Amerique autant que de la France.”

[Demand that Thomas Paine be decreed of accusation, for the interest of

America, as well as of France.] From what cause it was that the

intention was not put in execution, I know not, and cannot inform

myself; and therefore I ascribe it to impossibility, on account of that

illness.

The Convention, to repair as much as lay in their power the injustice I

had sustained, invited me publickly and unanimously to return into the

Convention, and which I accepted, to shew I could bear an injury

without permitting it to injure my principles or my disposition. It is

not because right principles have been violated, that they are to be

abandoned.

I have seen, since I have been at liberty, several publications

written, some in America, and some in England, as answers to the former

part of “The Age of Reason.” If the authors of these can amuse

themselves by so doing, I shall not interrupt them, They may write

against the work, and against me, as much as they please; they do me

more service than they intend, and I can have no objection that they

write on. They will find, however, by this Second Part, without its

being written as an answer to them, that they must return to their

work, and spin their cobweb over again. The first is brushed away by

accident.

They will now find that I have furnished myself with a Bible and

Testament; and I can say also that I have found them to be much worse

books than I had conceived. If I have erred in any thing, in the former

part of the Age of Reason, it has been by speaking better of some parts

than they deserved.

I observe, that all my opponents resort, more or less, to what they

call Scripture Evidence and Bible authority, to help them out. They are

so little masters of the subject, as to confound a dispute about

authenticity with a dispute about doctrines; I will, however, put them

right, that if they should be disposed to write any more, they may know

how to begin.

THOMAS PAINE. October, 1795.

CHAPTER I.

THE OLD TESTAMENT

It has often been said that any thing may be proved from the Bible; but

before any thing can be admitted as proved by Bible, the Bible itself

must be proved to be true; for if the Bible be not true, or the truth

of it be doubtful, it ceases to have authority, and cannot be admitted

as proof of any thing.

It has been the practice of all Christian commentators on the Bible,

and of all Christian priests and preachers, to impose the Bible on the

world as a mass of truth, and as the word of God; they have disputed

and wrangled, and have anathematized each other about the supposeable

meaning of particular parts and passages therein; one has said and

insisted that such a passage meant such a thing, another that it meant

directly the contrary, and a third, that it meant neither one nor the

other, but something different from both; and this they have called

understanding the Bible.

It has happened, that all the answers that I have seen to the former

part of ‘The Age of Reason’ have been written by priests: and these

pious men, like their predecessors, contend and wrangle, and understand

the Bible; each understands it differently, but each understands it

best; and they have agreed in nothing but in telling their readers that

Thomas Paine understands it not.

Now instead of wasting their time, and heating themselves in fractious

disputations about doctrinal points drawn from the Bible, these men

ought to know, and if they do not it is civility to inform them, that

the first thing to be understood is, whether there is sufficient

authority for believing the Bible to be the word of God, or whether

there is not?

There are matters in that book, said to be done by the express command

of God, that are as shocking to humanity, and to every idea we have of

moral justice, as any thing done by Robespierre, by Carrier, by Joseph

le Bon, in France, by the English government in the East Indies, or by

any other assassin in modern times. When we read in the books ascribed

to Moses, Joshua, etc., that they (the Israelites) came by stealth upon

whole nations of people, who, as the history itself shews, had given

them no offence; that they put all those nations to the sword; that

they spared neither age nor infancy; that they utterly destroyed men,

women and children; that they left not a soul to breathe; expressions

that are repeated over and over again in those books, and that too with

exulting ferocity; are we sure these things are facts? are we sure that

the Creator of man commissioned those things to be done? Are we sure

that the books that tell us so were written by his authority?

It is not the antiquity of a tale that is an evidence of its truth; on

the contrary, it is a symptom of its being fabulous; for the more

ancient any history pretends to be, the more it has the resemblance of

a fable. The origin of every nation is buried in fabulous tradition,

and that of the Jews is as much to be suspected as any other.

To charge the commission of things upon the Almighty, which in their

own nature, and by every rule of moral justice, are crimes, as all

assassination is, and more especially the assassination of infants, is

matter of serious concern. The Bible tells us, that those

assassinations were done by the express command of God. To believe

therefore the Bible to be true, we must unbelieve all our belief in the

moral justice of God; for wherein could crying or smiling infants

offend? And to read the Bible without horror, we must undo every thing

that is tender, sympathising, and benevolent in the heart of man.

Speaking for myself, if I had no other evidence that the Bible is

fabulous, than the sacrifice I must make to believe it to be true, that

alone would be sufficient to determine my choice.

But in addition to all the moral evidence against the Bible, I will, in

the progress of this work, produce such other evidence as even a priest

cannot deny; and show, from that evidence, that the Bible is not

entitled to credit, as being the word of God.

But, before I proceed to this examination, I will show wherein the

Bible differs from all other ancient writings with respect to the

nature of the evidence necessary to establish its authenticity; and

this is the more proper to be done, because the advocates of the Bible,

in their answers to the former part of ‘The Age of Reason,’ undertake

to say, and they put some stress thereon, that the authenticity of the

Bible is as well established as that of any other ancient book: as if

our belief of the one could become any rule for our belief of the

other.

I know, however, but of one ancient book that authoritatively

challenges universal consent and belief, and that is Euclid’s Elements

of Geometry; [Euclid, according to chronological history, lived three

hundred years before Christ, and about one hundred before Archimedes;

he was of the city of Alexandria, in Egypt.—Author.] and the reason is,

because it is a book of self-evident demonstration, entirely

independent of its author, and of every thing relating to time, place,

and circumstance. The matters contained in that book would have the

same authority they now have, had they been written by any other

person, or had the work been anonymous, or had the author never been

known; for the identical certainty of who was the author makes no part

of our belief of the matters contained in the book. But it is quite

otherwise with respect to the books ascribed to Moses, to Joshua, to

Samuel, etc.: those are books of testimony, and they testify of things

naturally incredible; and therefore the whole of our belief, as to the

authenticity of those books, rests, in the first place, upon the

certainty that they were written by Moses, Joshua, and Samuel;

secondly, upon the credit we give to their testimony. We may believe

the first, that is, may believe the certainty of the authorship, and

yet not the testimony; in the same manner that we may believe that a

certain person gave evidence upon a case, and yet not believe the

evidence that he gave. But if it should be found that the books

ascribed to Moses, Joshua, and Samuel, were not written by Moses,

Joshua, and Samuel, every part of the authority and authenticity of

those books is gone at once; for there can be no such thing as forged

or invented testimony; neither can there be anonymous testimony, more

especially as to things naturally incredible; such as that of talking

with God face to face, or that of the sun and moon standing still at

the command of a man.

The greatest part of the other ancient books are works of genius; of

which kind are those ascribed to Homer, to Plato, to Aristotle, to

Demosthenes, to Cicero, etc. Here again the author is not an essential

in the credit we give to any of those works; for as works of genius

they would have the same merit they have now, were they anonymous.

Nobody believes the Trojan story, as related by Homer, to be true; for

it is the poet only that is admired, and the merit of the poet will

remain, though the story be fabulous. But if we disbelieve the matters

related by the Bible authors (Moses for instance) as we disbelieve the

things related by Homer, there remains nothing of Moses in our

estimation, but an imposter. As to the ancient historians, from

Herodotus to Tacitus, we credit them as far as they relate things

probable and credible, and no further: for if we do, we must believe

the two miracles which Tacitus relates were performed by Vespasian,

that of curing a lame man, and a blind man, in just the same manner as

the same things are told of Jesus Christ by his historians. We must

also believe the miracles cited by Josephus, that of the sea of

Pamphilia opening to let Alexander and his army pass, as is related of

the Red Sea in Exodus. These miracles are quite as well authenticated

as the Bible miracles, and yet we do not believe them; consequently the

degree of evidence necessary to establish our belief of things

naturally incredible, whether in the Bible or elsewhere, is far greater

than that which obtains our belief to natural and probable things; and

therefore the advocates for the Bible have no claim to our belief of

the Bible because that we believe things stated in other ancient

writings; since that we believe the things stated in those writings no

further than they are probable and credible, or because they are

self-evident, like Euclid; or admire them because they are elegant,

like Homer; or approve them because they are sedate, like Plato; or

judicious, like Aristotle.

Having premised these things, I proceed to examine the authenticity of

the Bible; and I begin with what are called the five books of Moses,

Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. My intention is

to shew that those books are spurious, and that Moses is not the author

of them; and still further, that they were not written in the time of

Moses nor till several hundred years afterwards; that they are no other

than an attempted history of the life of Moses, and of the times in

which he is said to have lived, and also of the times prior thereto,

written by some very ignorant and stupid pretenders to authorship,

several hundred years after the death of Moses; as men now write

histories of things that happened, or are supposed to have happened,

several hundred or several thousand years ago.

The evidence that I shall produce in this case is from the books

themselves; and I will confine myself to this evidence only. Were I to

refer for proofs to any of the ancient authors, whom the advocates of

the Bible call prophane authors, they would controvert that authority,

as I controvert theirs: I will therefore meet them on their own ground,

and oppose them with their own weapon, the Bible.

In the first place, there is no affirmative evidence that Moses is the

author of those books; and that he is the author, is altogether an

unfounded opinion, got abroad nobody knows how. The style and manner in

which those books are written give no room to believe, or even to

suppose, they were written by Moses; for it is altogether the style and

manner of another person speaking of Moses. In Exodus, Leviticus and

Numbers, (for every thing in Genesis is prior to the times of Moses and

not the least allusion is made to him therein,) the whole, I say, of

these books is in the third person; it is always, the Lord said unto

Moses, or Moses said unto the Lord; or Moses said unto the people, or

the people said unto Moses; and this is the style and manner that

historians use in speaking of the person whose lives and actions they

are writing. It may be said, that a man may speak of himself in the

third person, and, therefore, it may be supposed that Moses did; but

supposition proves nothing; and if the advocates for the belief that

Moses wrote those books himself have nothing better to advance than

supposition, they may as well be silent.

But granting the grammatical right, that Moses might speak of himself

in the third person, because any man might speak of himself in that

manner, it cannot be admitted as a fact in those books, that it is

Moses who speaks, without rendering Moses truly ridiculous and

absurd:—for example, Numbers xii. 3: “Now the man Moses was very MEEK,

above all the men which were on the face of the earth.” If Moses said

this of himself, instead of being the meekest of men, he was one of the

most vain and arrogant coxcombs; and the advocates for those books may

now take which side they please, for both sides are against them: if

Moses was not the author, the books are without authority; and if he

was the author, the author is without credit, because to boast of

meekness is the reverse of meekness, and is a lie in sentiment.

In Deuteronomy, the style and manner of writing marks more evidently

than in the former books that Moses is not the writer. The manner here

used is dramatical; the writer opens the subject by a short

introductory discourse, and then introduces Moses as in the act of

speaking, and when he has made Moses finish his harrangue, he (the

writer) resumes his own part, and speaks till he brings Moses forward

again, and at last closes the scene with an account of the death,

funeral, and character of Moses.

This interchange of speakers occurs four times in this book: from the

first verse of the first chapter, to the end of the fifth verse, it is

the writer who speaks; he then introduces Moses as in the act of making

his harrangue, and this continues to the end of the 40th verse of the

fourth chapter; here the writer drops Moses, and speaks historically of

what was done in consequence of what Moses, when living, is supposed to

have said, and which the writer has dramatically rehearsed.

The writer opens the subject again in the first verse of the fifth

chapter, though it is only by saying that Moses called the people of

Israel together; he then introduces Moses as before, and continues him

as in the act of speaking, to the end of the 26th chapter. He does the

same thing at the beginning of the 27th chapter; and continues Moses as

in the act of speaking, to the end of the 28th chapter. At the 29th

chapter the writer speaks again through the whole of the first verse,

and the first line of the second verse, where he introduces Moses for

the last time, and continues him as in the act of speaking, to the end

of the 33d chapter.

The writer having now finished the rehearsal on the part of Moses,

comes forward, and speaks through the whole of the last chapter: he

begins by telling the reader, that Moses went up to the top of Pisgah,

that he saw from thence the land which (the writer says) had been

promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; that he, Moses, died there in

the land of Moab, that he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab,

but that no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day, that is unto

the time in which the writer lived who wrote the book of Deuteronomy.

The writer then tells us, that Moses was one hundred and ten years of

age when he died—that his eye was not dim, nor his natural force

abated; and he concludes by saying, that there arose not a prophet

since in Israel like unto Moses, whom, says this anonymous writer, the

Lord knew face to face.

Having thus shewn, as far as grammatical evidence implies, that Moses

was not the writer of those books, I will, after making a few

observations on the inconsistencies of the writer of the book of

Deuteronomy, proceed to shew, from the historical and chronological

evidence contained in those books, that Moses was not, because he could

not be, the writer of them; and consequently, that there is no

authority for believing that the inhuman and horrid butcheries of men,

women, and children, told of in those books, were done, as those books

say they were, at the command of God. It is a duty incumbent on every

true deist, that he vindicates the moral justice of God against the

calumnies of the Bible.

The writer of the book of Deuteronomy, whoever he was, for it is an

anonymous work, is obscure, and also contradictory with himself in the

account he has given of Moses.

After telling that Moses went to the top of Pisgah (and it does not

appear from any account that he ever came down again) he tells us, that

Moses died there in the land of Moab, and that he buried him in a

valley in the land of Moab; but as there is no antecedent to the

pronoun he, there is no knowing who he was, that did bury him. If the

writer meant that he (God) buried him, how should he (the writer) know

it? or why should we (the readers) believe him? since we know not who

the writer was that tells us so, for certainly Moses could not himself

tell where he was buried.

The writer also tells us, that no man knoweth where the sepulchre of

Moses is unto this day, meaning the time in which this writer lived;

how then should he know that Moses was buried in a valley in the land

of Moab? for as the writer lived long after the time of Moses, as is

evident from his using the expression of unto this day, meaning a great

length of time after the death of Moses, he certainly was not at his

funeral; and on the other hand, it is impossible that Moses himself

could say that no man knoweth where the sepulchre is unto this day. To

make Moses the speaker, would be an improvement on the play of a child

that hides himself and cries nobody can find me; nobody can find Moses.

This writer has no where told us how he came by the speeches which he

has put into the mouth of Moses to speak, and therefore we have a right

to conclude that he either composed them himself, or wrote them from

oral tradition. One or other of these is the more probable, since he

has given, in the fifth chapter, a table of commandments, in which that

called the fourth commandment is different from the fourth commandment

in the twentieth chapter of Exodus. In that of Exodus, the reason given

for keeping the seventh day is, because (says the commandment) God made

the heavens and the earth in six days, and rested on the seventh; but

in that of Deuteronomy, the reason given is, that it was the day on

which the children of Israel came out of Egypt, and therefore, says

this commandment, the Lord thy God commanded thee to keep the

sabbath-day This makes no mention of the creation, nor that of the

coming out of Egypt. There are also many things given as laws of Moses

in this book, that are not to be found in any of the other books; among

which is that inhuman and brutal law, xxi. 18, 19, 20, 21, which

authorizes parents, the father and the mother, to bring their own

children to have them stoned to death for what it pleased them to call

stubbornness.—But priests have always been fond of preaching up

Deuteronomy, for Deuteronomy preaches up tythes; and it is from this

book, xxv. 4, they have taken the phrase, and applied it to tything,

that “thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth Out the corn:” and

that this might not escape observation, they have noted it in the table

of contents at the head of the chapter, though it is only a single

verse of less than two lines. O priests! priests! ye are willing to be

compared to an ox, for the sake of tythes. [An elegant pocket edition

of Paine’s Theological Works (London. R. Carlile, 1822) has in its

title a picture of Paine, as a Moses in evening dress, unfolding the

two tables of his “Age of Reason” to a farmer from whom the Bishop of

Llandaff (who replied to this work) has taken a sheaf and a lamb which

he is carrying to a church at the summit of a well stocked

hill.—Editor.]—Though it is impossible for us to know identically who

the writer of Deuteronomy was, it is not difficult to discover him

professionally, that he was some Jewish priest, who lived, as I shall

shew in the course of this work, at least three hundred and fifty years

after the time of Moses.

I come now to speak of the historical and chronological evidence. The

chronology that I shall use is the Bible chronology; for I mean not to

go out of the Bible for evidence of any thing, but to make the Bible

itself prove historically and chronologically that Moses is not the

author of the books ascribed to him. It is therefore proper that I

inform the readers (such an one at least as may not have the

opportunity of knowing it) that in the larger Bibles, and also in some

smaller ones, there is a series of chronology printed in the margin of

every page for the purpose of showing how long the historical matters

stated in each page happened, or are supposed to have happened, before

Christ, and consequently the distance of time between one historical

circumstance and another.

I begin with the book of Genesis.—In Genesis xiv., the writer gives an

account of Lot being taken prisoner in a battle between the four kings

against five, and carried off; and that when the account of Lot being

taken came to Abraham, that he armed all his household and marched to

rescue Lot from the captors; and that he pursued them unto Dan. (ver.

14.)

To shew in what manner this expression of Pursuing them unto Dan

applies to the case in question, I will refer to two circumstances, the

one in America, the other in France. The city now called New York, in

America, was originally New Amsterdam; and the town in France, lately

called Havre Marat, was before called Havre-de-Grace. New Amsterdam was

changed to New York in the year 1664; Havre-de-Grace to Havre Marat in

the year 1793. Should, therefore, any writing be found, though without

date, in which the name of New-York should be mentioned, it would be

certain evidence that such a writing could not have been written

before, and must have been written after New Amsterdam was changed to

New York, and consequently not till after the year 1664, or at least

during the course of that year. And in like manner, any dateless

writing, with the name of Havre Marat, would be certain evidence that

such a writing must have been written after Havre-de-Grace became Havre

Marat, and consequently not till after the year 1793, or at least

during the course of that year.

I now come to the application of those cases, and to show that there

was no such place as Dan till many years after the death of Moses; and

consequently, that Moses could not be the writer of the book of

Genesis, where this account of pursuing them unto Dan is given.