The Life Of Thomas Paine Volume II Part 33

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At this time, 1802, public spirit was at end in France. The real republicans were harra.s.sed by eternal prosecutions. Paine was a truly grateful man: his friendship was active and warm, and steady. During the six years that he lived in our house, he frequently pressed us to go to America, offering us all that he should be able to do for us, and saying that he would bequeath his property to our children. Some affairs of great consequence made it impracticable for Mr. Bonneville to quit France; but, foreseeing a new revolution, that would strike, personally, many of the Republicans, it was resolved, soon after the departure of Mr. Paine for America, that I should go thither with my children, relying fully on the good offices of Mr. Paine, whose conduct in America justified that reliance.

In 1802 Paine left France, regretted by all who knew him. He embarked at Havre de Grace on board a stout ship, belonging to Mr. Patterson, of Baltimore, he being the only pa.s.senger. After a very stormy pa.s.sage, he landed at Baltimore on the 30th of October, 1812. He remained there but a few days, and then went to Washington, where he published his Letters to the Americans.

A few months afterwards, he went to Bordentown, to his friend Col.

Kirkbride, who had invited him, on his return, by the following letter of 12 November, 1802. [Missing.]

He staid at Bordentown about two months, and then went to New York, where a great number of patriots gave him a splendid dinner at the City Hotel. In June, 1803, he went to Stonington, New England, to see some friends; and in the autumn he went to his farm at New Roch.e.l.le. (The letter of Thomas Paine to Mr. Bonneville, 20 Nov., 1803.) [Missing.]

An inhabitant of this village offered him an apartment, of which he accepted, and while here he was taken ill. His complaint was a sort of paralytic affection, which took away the use of his hands. He had had the same while at Mr. Monroe's in Paris, after he was released from prison. Being better, he went to his farm, where he remained a part of the winter, and he came to New York to spend the rest of it; but in the spring (1804) he went back to his farm. The farmer who had had his farm for 17 or 18 years, instead of paying his rent, brought Mr. Paine a bill for fencing, which made Paine his debtor! They had a law-suit by which Paine got nothing but the right of paying the law-expenses! This and other necessary expenses compelled him to sell sixty acres of his land.

He then gave the honest farmer notice to quit the next April (1805).

Upon taking possession of the farm himself, he hired Christopher Derrick to cultivate it for him. He soon found that Derrick was not fit for his place, and he, therefore, discharged him. This was in the summer; and, on Christmas Eve ensuing, about six o'clock, Mr. Paine being in his room, on the ground floor, reading, a gun was fired a few yards from the window. The contents of the gun struck the bottom part of the window, and all the charge, which was of small shot, lodged, as was next day discovered, in the window sill and wall. The shooter, in firing the gun, fell; and the barrel of the gun had entered the ground where he fell, and left an impression, which Thomas Paine observed the next morning.

Thomas Paine went immediately to the house of a neighboring farmer, and there (seeing a gun, he took hold of it, and perceived that the muzzle of the gun was filled with fresh earth.) And then he heard that Christopher Derick had borrowed the gun about five o'clock the evening before, and had returned it again before six o'clock the same evening.

Derick was arrested, and Purdy, his brother farmer, became immediately and voluntarily his bail. The cause was brought forward at New Roch.e.l.le; and Derick was acquitted.*

* See p. 343 of this volume. Several paragraphs here are in the writing of J. P. Cobbett, then with his father in New York.

In 1806 Thomas Paine offered to vote at New Roch.e.l.le for the election.

But his vote was not admitted; on the pretence only of his not being a citizen of America; whereon he wrote the following letters. [_The letters are here missing, but no doubt the same as those on pp. 379-80 of this volume_..]

This case was pleaded before the Supreme Court of New York by Mr.

Riker, then Attorney General, and, though Paine lost his cause, I as his legatee, did not lose the having to pay for it. It is however, an undoubted fact, that Mr. Paine was an American Citizen.

He remained at New Roch.e.l.le till June 1807; till disgust of every kind, occasioned by the gross and brutal conduct of some of the people there, made him resolve to go and live at New York.

On the 4th of April, 1807, he wrote the following letter to Mr.

Bonneville [in Paris]:

"My dear Bonneville: Why don't you come to America Your wife and two boys, Benjamin and Thomas, are here, and in good health. They all speak English very well; but Thomas has forgot his French. I intend to provide for the boys, but, I wish to see you here. We heard of you by letters by Madget and Captain Hailey. Mrs. Bonneville, and Mrs. Thomas, an English woman, keep an academy for young ladies.

"I send this by a friend, Mrs. Champlin, who will call on Mercier at the Inst.i.tute, to know where you are. Your affectionate friend."

And some time after the following letter:

"My dear Bonneville: I received your letter by Mrs. Champlin, and also the letter for Mrs. Bonneville, and one from her sister. I have written to the American Minister in Paris, Mr. Armstrong, desiring him to interest himself to have your surveillance taken off on condition of your coming to join your family in the United States.

"This letter, with Mrs. Bonneville's, come to you under cover to the American Minister from Mr. Madison, Secretary of State. As soon as you receive it I advise you to call on General Armstrong and inform him of the proper method to have your surveillance taken off. Mr. Champagny, who succeeds Talleyrand, is, I suppose, the same who was Minister of the Interior, from whom I received a handsome friendly letter, respecting the iron bridge. I think you once went with me to see him.

"Call on Mr Skipwith with my compliments. He will inform you what vessels will sail for New York and where from. Bordeaux will be the best place to sail from. I believe Mr. Lee is American Consul at Bordeaux.

When you arrive there, call on him, with my compliments. You may contrive to arrive at New York in April or May. The pa.s.sages, in the Spring, are generally short; seldom more than five weeks, and often less.

"Present my respects to Mercier, Bernardin St. Pierre, Dupuis, Gregoire.--When you come, I intend publishing all my works, and those I have yet in ma.n.u.script, by subscription. They will make 4 or 5 vol. 4, or 5 vol. 8, about 400 pages each. Yours in friendship.--T. P."*

* This letter is entirely in the writing of Madame Bonneville. Beneath it is written: "The above is a true copy of the original; I have compared the two together.

James P. Cobbett." The allusion to Champagny is either a slip of Madame's pen or Paine's memory. The minister who wrote him about his bridge was Chaptal. See ii., p. 296. The names in the last paragraph show what an attractive literary circle Paine had left in France, for a country unable to appreciate him.

While Paine was one day taking his usual after-dinner nap, an old woman called, and, asking for Mr. Paine, said she had something of great importance to communicate to him. She was shown into his bed-chamber; and Paine, raising himself on his elbow, and turning towards the woman, said: "What do you want with me?" "I came," said she, "from G.o.d, to tell you, that if you don't repent, and believe in Christ, you 'll be dammed." "Poh, poh, it's not true," said Paine; "you are not sent with such an impertinent message. Send her away. Pshaw! G.o.d would not send such a foolish ugly old woman as you. Turn this messenger out. Get away; be off: shut the door." And so the old woman packed herself off.

After his arrival Paine published several articles in the newspapers of New York and Philadelphia. Subsequent to a short illness which he had in 1807, he could not walk without pain, and the difficulty of walking increased every day. On the 21st of January, 1808, he addressed a memorial to the Congress of the United States, asking remuneration for his services; and, on the 14th of February, the same year, another on the same subject. These doc.u.ments and his letter to the Speaker are as follows.*

* "Are as follows" in Madame B.'s writing, after striking oat Cobbett's words, "will be found in the Appendix." The doc.u.ments and letters are not given, but they are well known. See ii., p. 405.

The Committee of Claims, to which the memorial had been submitted, pa.s.sed the following resolution: "Resolved, that Thomas Paine has leave to withdraw his memorial and the papers accompanying the same." He was deeply grieved at this refusal; some have blamed him for exposing himself to it. But, it should be recollected, that his expenses were greatly augmented by his illness, and he saw his means daily diminish, while he feared a total palsy; and while he expected to live to a very great age, as his ancestors had before him. His money yielded no interest, always having been unwilling to place money out in that way.

He had made his will in 1807, during the short illness already noticed.

But three months later, he a.s.sembled his friends, and read to them another will; saying that he had believed such and such one to be his friend, and that now having altered his belief in them, he had also altered his will. From motives of the same kind, he, three months before his death, made another will, which he sealed up and directed to me, and gave it me to keep, observing to me, that I was more interested in it than any body else.

He wished to be buried in the Quaker burying ground, and sent for a member of the committee [Willett Hicks] who lived in the neighborhood.

The interview took place on the 19th of March, 1809. Paine said, when we were looking out for another lodging, we had to put in order the affairs of our present abode. This was precisely the case with him; all his affairs were settled, and he had only to provide his burying-ground; his father had been a Quaker, and he hoped they would not refuse him a grave; "I will," added he, "pay for the digging of it."

The committee of the Quakers refused to receive his body, at which he seemed deeply moved, and observed to me, who was present at the interview, that their refusal was foolish. "You will," said I, "be buried on your farm" "I have no objection to that," said he "but the farm will be sold, and they will dig my bones up before they be half rotten." "Mr. Paine," I replied, "have confidence in your friends. I a.s.sure you, that the place where you will be buried, shall never be sold." He seemed satisfied; and never spoke upon this subject again. I have been as good as my word.

Last December (1818) the land of the farm having been divided between my children, I gave fifty dollars to keep apart and to myself, the place whereon the grave was.

Paine, doubtless, considered me and my children as strangers in America.

His affection for us was, at any rate, great and sincere. He anxiously recommended us to the protection of Mr. Emmet, saying to him, "when I am dead, Madam Bonneville will have no friend here." And a little time after, obliged to draw money from the Bank, he said, with an air of sorrow, "you will have nothing left."*

* Paine's Will appoints Thomas Addis Emmet, Walter Morton (with $200 each), and Madame Bonneville executors; gives a small bequest to the widow of Elihu Palmer, and a considerable one to Rickman of London, who was to divide with Nicholas Bonneville proceeds of the sale of the North part of his farm. To Madame Bonneville went his ma.n.u.scripts, movable effects, stock in the N. Y. Phoenix Insurance Company estimated at $1500, and money in hand. The South part of the New Roch.e.l.le farm, over 100 acres, were given Madame Bonneville in trust for her children, Benjamin and Thomas, "their education and maintenance, until they come to the age of twenty-one years, in order that she may bring them well up, give them good and useful learning, and instruct them in their duty to G.o.d, and the practice of morality." At majority they were to share and share alike in fee simple.

He desires to be buried in the Quaker ground,--"my father belonged to that profession, and I was partly brought up in it,"--but if this is not permitted, to be buried on his farm. "The place where I am to be buried to be a square of twelve feet, to be enclosed with rows of trees, and a stone or post and railed fence, with a head-stone with my name and age engraved upon it, author of "Common Sense." He confides Mrs. Bonneville and her children to the care of Emmet and Morton. "Thus placing confidence in their friendship, I herewith take my final leave of them and of the world. I have lived an honest and useful life to mankind; my time has been spent in doing good; and I die in perfect composure and resignation to the will of my Creator G.o.d."

The Will, dated January 18, opens with the words, "The last Will and Testament of me, the subscriber, Thomas Paine, reposing confidence in my Creator G.o.d, and in no other being, for I know of no other, and I believe in no other." Mrs. Paine had died July 27th, 1808.

Mr. William Fayel, to whom I am indebted for much information concerning the Bonnevilles in St. Louis, writes me that so little is known of Paine's benefactions, that "an ex-senator of the United States recently a.s.serted that Gen. Bonneville was brought over by Jefferson and a French lady; and a French lady, who was intimate with the Bonnevilles, a.s.sured me that General Bonneville was sent to West Point by Lafayette."

He was now become extremely weak. His strength and appet.i.te daily departed from him; and in the day-time only he was able, when not in bed, to sit up in his arm-chair to read the newspapers, and sometimes write. When he could no longer quit his bed, he made some one read the newspapers to him. His mind was always active. He wrote nothing for the press after writing his last will, but he would converse, and took great interest in politics. The vigour of his mind, which had always so strongly characterized him, did not leave him to the last moment. He never complained of his bodily sufferings, though they became excessive.

His const.i.tution was strong. The want of exercise alone was the cause of his sufferings. Notwithstanding the great inconveniences he was obliged to sustain during his illness, in a carman's house [Ryder's] in a small village [Greenwich], without any bosom friend in whom he could repose confidence, without any society he liked, he still did not complain of his sufferings. I indeed, went regularly to see him twice a week; but, he said to me one day: "I am here alone, for all these people are nothing to me, day after day, week after week, month after month, and you don't come to see me."

In a conversation between him and Mr. [Albert] Gallatin, about this time, I recollect his using these words: "_I am very sorry that I ever returned to this country_." As he was thus situated and paying a high price for his lodgings he expressed a wish to come to my house. This must be a great inconvenience to me from the frequent visits to Mr.

Thomas Paine; but, I, at last, consented; and hired a house in the neighborhood, in May 1809, to which he was carried in an arm-chair, after which he seemed calm and satisfied, and gave himself no trouble about anything. He had no disease that required a Doctor, though Dr. Romaine came to visit him twice a week. The swelling, which had commenced at his feet, had now reached his body, and some one had been so officious as to tell him that he ought to be tapped. He asked me if this was necessary. I told him, that I did not know; but, that, unless he was likely to derive great good from it, it should not be done. The next [day] Doctor Romaine came and brought a physician with him, and they resolved that the tapping need not take place.

He now grew weaker and weaker very fast. A very few days before his death, Dr. Romame said to me, "I don't think he can live till night."

Paine, hearing some one speak, opens his eyes, and said: "'T is you Doctor: what news?" "Mr. such an one is gone to France on such business." "He will do nothing there," said Paine. "Your belly diminishes," said the Doctor. "And yours augments," said Paine.

* The sentence thus far is struck out by Madame Bonno he had not seen for a long while. He was overjoyed at seeing him; but, this person began to speak upon religion, and Paine turned his head on the other side, and remained silent, even to the adieu of the person.

When he was near his end, two American clergymen came to see him, and to talk with him on religious matters. "Let me alone," said he; "good morning." He desired they should be admitted no more. One of his friends came to New York; a person for whom he had a great esteem, and whom seeing his end fast approaching, I asked him, in presence of a friend, if he felt satisfied with the treatment he had received at our house, upon which he could only exclaim, O! yes! He added other words, but they were incoherent It was impossible for me not to exert myself to the utmost in taking care of a person to whom I and my children owed so much. He now appeared to have lost all kind of feeling. He spent the night in tranquillity, and expired in the morning at eight o'clock, after a short oppression, at my house in Greenwich, about two miles from the city of New York. Mr. Jarvis, a Painter, who had formerly made a portrait of him, moulded his head in plaster, from which a bust was executed.

He was, according to the American custom, deposited in a mahogany coffin, with his name and age engraved on a silver-plate, put on the coffin. His corpse was dressed in a shirt, a muslin gown tied at neck and wrists with black ribbon, stockings, drawers; and a cap was put under his head as a pillow. (He never slept in a night-cap.) Before the coffin was placed on the carriage, I went to see him; and having a rose in my bosom, I took it out, and placed on his breast. Death had not disfigured him. Though very thin, his bones were not protuberant. He was not wrinkled, and had lost very little hair.

His voice was very strong even to his last moments. He often exclaimed, oh, lord help me! An exclamation the involuntary effect of pain. He groaned deeply, and when a question was put to him, calling him by his name, he opened his eyes, as if waking from a dream. He never answered the question, but asked one himself; as, what is it o'clock, &c.

On the ninth of June my son and I, and a few of Thomas Paine's friends, set off with the corpse to New Roch.e.l.le, a place 22 miles from New York.

It was my intention to have him buried in the Orchard of his own farm; but the farmer who lived there at that time said, that Thomas Paine, walking with him one day, said, pointing to another part of the land, he was desirous of being buried there. "Then," said I, "that shall be the place of his burial." And, my instructions were accordingly put in execution. The head-stone was put up about a week afterwards with the following inscription: "Thomas Paine, Author of "Common Sense," died the eighth of June, 1809, aged 72 years." According to his will, a wall twelve feet square was erected round his tomb. Four trees have been planted outside the wall, two weeping willows and two cypresses. Many persons have taken away pieces of the tombstone and of the trees, in memory of the deceased; foreigners especially have been eager to obtain these memorials, some of which have been sent to England.* They have been put in frames and preserved. Verses in honor of Paine have been written on the head stone. The grave is situated at the angle of the farm, by the entrance to it.

This interment was a scene to affect and to wound any sensible heart.

Contemplating who it was, what man it was, that we were committing to an obscure grave on an open and disregarded bit of land, I could not help feeling most acutely. Before the earth was thrown down upon the coffin, I, placing myself at the east end of the grave, said to my son Benjamin, "stand you there, at the other end, as a witness for grateful America."

Looking round me, and beholding the small group of spectators, I exclaimed, as the earth was tumbled into the grave, "Oh! Mr. Paine! My son stands here as testimony of the grat.i.tude of America, and I, for France!" This was the funeral ceremony of this great politician and philosopher!**