A most benignant smile expressed what he felt upon receiving an affectionate salutation, or praise delicately conveyed. His leg and foot were elegant, and he stood and walked upright, without stiffness or affectation. [He never wore a sword nor cane], but often walked with his hat in one hand and with his other hand behind his back. His countenance, when walking, was generally thoughtful. In receiving salutations he bowed very gracefully, and, if from an acquaintance, he did not begin with "how d' ye do?" but, with a "what news?" If they had none, he gave them his. His beard, his lips, his head, the motion of his eye-brow, all aided in developing his mind.
Was he where he got at the English or American newspapers, he hastened to over-run them all, like those who read to make extracts for their paper. His first glance was for the funds, which, in spite of jobbing and the tricks of government, he always looked on as the sure thermometer of public affairs. Parliamentary Debates, the Bills, concealing a true or sham opposition of such or such orators, the secret pay and violent theatrical declamation, or the revelations of public or private meetings at the taverns; these interested him so much that he longed for an ear and a heart to pour forth all his soul. When he added that he knew the Republican or the hypocrite, he would affirm, beforehand, that such or such a bill, such or such a measure, would take place; and very seldom, in such a case, the cunning politic or the clear-sighted observer was mistaken in his assertions; for they were not for him mere conjectures. He spoke of a future event as of a thing past and consummated. In a country where the slightest steps are expanded to open day, where the feeblest connexions are known from their beginning, and with all the views of ambition, of interest or rivalship, it is almost impossible to escape the eye of such an observer as Thomas Paine, whom no private interest could blind or bewitch, as was said by the clear-sighted Michael Montaigne.
His writings are generally perspicuous and full of light, and often they discover the sardonic and sharp smile of Voltaire. One may see that he wishes to wound to the quick; and that he hugs himself in his success. But Voltaire all at once overruns an immense space and resumes his vehement and dramatic step: Paine stops you, and points to the place where you ought to smile with him at the ingenious traits; a gift to envy and stupidity.
Thomas Paine did not like to be questioned. He used to say, that he thought nothing more impertinent, than to say to any body: "What do you think of that?" On his arrival at New York, he went to see General Gates. After the usual words of salutation, the General said: "I have always had it in mind, if I ever saw you again, to ask you whether you were married, as people have said." Paine not answering, the General went on: "Tell me how it is." "I never," said Paine, "answer impertinent questions."
Seemingly insensible and hard to himself, he was not so to the just wailings of the unhappy. Without any vehement expression of his sorrow, you might see him calling up all his powers, walking silently, thinking of the best means of consoling the unfortunate applicant; and never did they go from him without some rays of hope. And as his will was firm and settled, his efforts were always successful. The man hardened in vice and in courts [of law], yields more easily than one imagines to the manly entreaties of a disinterested benefactor.
* At this point are the words: "Barlow's letter [i. e. to
Cheetham] we agreed to suppress."
Thomas Paine loved his friends with sincere and tender affection. His simplicity of heart and that happy kind of openness, or rather, carelessness, which charms our hearts in reading the fables of the good Lafontaine, made him extremely amiable. If little children were near him he patted them, searched his pockets for the store of cakes, biscuits, sugarplums, pieces of sugar, of which he used to take possession as of a treasure belonging to them, and the distribution of which belonged to him.* His conversation was unaffectedly simple and frank; his language natural; always abounding in curious anecdotes. He justly and fully seized the characters of all those of whom he related any singular traits. For his conversation was satyrick, instructive, full of witticisms. If he related an anecdote a second time, it was always in the same words and the same tone, like a comic actor who knows the place where he is to be applauded. He neither cut the tale short nor told it too circumstantially. It was real conversation, enlivened by digressions well brought in. The vivacity of his mind, and the numerous scenes of which he had been a spectator, or in which he had been an actor, rendered his narrations the more animated, his conversation more endearing. His memory was admirable. Politics were his favorite subject He never spoke on religious subjects, unless pressed to it, and never disputed about such matters. He could not speak French: he could understand it tolerably well when spoken to him, and he understood it when on paper perfectly well. He never went to the theatre: never spoke on dramatic subjects. He rather delighted in ridiculing poetry. He did not like it: he said it was not a serious thing, but a sport of the mind, which often had not common sense. His common reading was the affairs of the day; not a single newspaper escaped him; not a political discussion: he knew how to strike while the iron was hot; and, as he was always on the watch, he was always ready to write. Hence all his pamphlets have been popular and powerful. He wrote with composure and steadiness, as if under the guidance of a tutelary genius. If, for an instant, he stopped, it was always in the attitude of a man who listens. The Saint Jerome of Raphael would give a perfect idea of his contemplative recollection, to listen to the voice from on high which makes itself heard in the heart.
[It will be proper, I believe, to say here, that shortly after the Death of Thomas Paine a book appeared, under the Title of: The Life of Thomas Paine, by Cheethatn. In this libel my character was calumniated. I cited the Author before the Criminal Court of New York, He was tried and in spite of all his manoeuvres, he was found guilty.—M. B. de Bonneville.]
This last paragraph, in brackets, is in the writing of Madame Bonneville.
I am indebted to Mr. Robert Waters, of Jersey City, a biographer of Cobbett, for the suggestion, made through a friend, and so amply justified, that information concerning Paine might be derived from the Cobbett papers.