* "Early History of Charles James Fox," American éd., p. 44a
** The following document was found among the papers of Mr.
John Han, originally of Leicester, England, and has been
forwarded to me by his descendant, J. Dutton Steele, Jr., of
Philadelphia.
"A Copy of a Letter from the chairman of a meeting of the
Gentry and Qergy at Atherstone, written in consequence of an
envious schoolmaster and two or three others who informed
the meeting that the Excise Officers of Polesworth were
employed in distributing the Rights of Man; but which was
Very false.
"Sir: I should think it unnecessary to inform you, that the
purport of his Majesty's proclamation in the Month of May
last, and the numerous meetings which are daily taking place
both in Town and Country, are for the avowed purpose of
suppressing treasonable and seditious writings amongst which
Mr. Payne's Rights of Man ranks most conspicuous. Were I not
informed you have taken some pains in spreading that
publication, I write to say If you don't from this time
adopt a different kind of conduct you will be taken notice
of in such way as may prove very disagreeable.
"The Eyes of the Country are upon you and you will do well
in future to shew yourself faithful to the Master who
employs you.
"I remain,
"Your Hble servant,
"(Signed) Jos. Boultbee. Baxterby, 15th Deer., '92.
"N. B. The letter was written the next morning after the
Meeting where most of the Loyal souls got drunk to an
uncommon degree. They drank his Majesty's health so often
the reckoning amounted to 7s. 6d. each. One of the informers
threw down a shilling and ran away."
It was, indeed, a hard time for reformers in England. Among them were many refined gentlemen who felt that it was no country for a thinker and scholar to live in. Among the pathetic pictures of the time was that of the twelve scholars, headed by Coleridge and Southey, and twelve ladies, who found the atmosphere of England too impure for any but slaves to breathe, and proposed to seek in America some retreat where their pastoral "pantisocrasy" might be realized. Lack of funds prevented the fulfilment of this dream, but that it should have been an object of concert and endeavor, in that refined circle at Bristol, is a memorable sign of that dreadful time. In the absence of means to form such communities, preserving the culture and charm of a society evolved out of barbarism, apart from the walls of a remaining political barbarism threatening it with their ruins, some scholars were compelled, like Coleridge, to rejoin the feudalists, and help them to buttress the crumbling castle. They secured themselves from the social deterioration of living on wild "honey-dew" in a wilderness, at cost of wearing intellectual masks. Some fled to America, like Cobbett. But others fixed their abode in Paris, where radicalism was fashionable and invested with the charm of the salon and the theatre.
Before the declaration of war Paine had been on friendly terms with some eminent Englishmen in Paris: he dined every week with Lord Lauderdale, Dr. John Moore, an author, and others in some restaurant. After most of these had followed Lord Gower to England he had to be more guarded. A British agent, Major Semple, approached him under the name of Major Lisle. He professed to be an Irish patriot, wore the green cockade, and desired introduction to the Minister of War. Paine fortunately knew too many Irishmen to fall into this snare.* But General Miranda, as we have seen, fared better. Paine was, indeed, so overrun with visitors and adventurers that he appropriated two mornings of each week at the Philadelphia House for levees. These, however, became insufficient to stem the constant stream of visitors, including spies and lion-hunters, so that he had little time for consultation with the men and women whose co-operation he needed in public affairs. He therefore leased an out-of-the-way house, reserving knowledge of it for particular friends, while still retaining his address at the Philadelphia Hotel, where the levees were continued.
* Rickman, p. 129.
The irony of fate had brought an old mansion of Madame de Pompadour to become the residence of Thomas Paine and his half dozen English disciples. It was then, and still is, No. 63 Faubourg St. Denis. Here, where a King's mistress held her merry fêtes, and issued the decrees of her reign—sometimes of terror,—the little band of English humanitarians read and conversed, and sported in the garden. In a little essay on "Forgetfulness," addressed to his friend, Lady Smith, Paine described these lodgings.
"They were the most agreeable, for situation, of any I ever had in Paris, except that they were too remote from the Convention, of which I was then a member. But this was recompensed by their being also remote from the alarms and confusion into which the interior of Paris was then often thrown. The news of those things used to arrive to us, as if we were in a state of tranquillity in the country. The house, which was enclosed by a wall and gateway from the street, was a good deal like an old mansion farm-house, and the court-yard was like a farm yard, stocked with fowls,—ducks, turkies, and geese; which, for amusement, we used to feed out of the parlor window on the ground floor. There were some hutches for rabbits, and a sty with two pigs. Beyond was a garden of more than an acre of ground, well laid out, and stocked with excellent fruit trees. The orange, apricot, and greengage plum were the best I ever tasted; and it is the only place where I saw the wild cucumber. The place had formerly been occupied by some curious person.
"My apartments consisted of three rooms; the first for wood, water, etc.; the next was the bedroom; and beyond it the sitting room, which looked into the garden through a glass door; and on the outside there was a small landing place railed in, and a flight of narrow stairs almost hidden by the vines that grew over it, by which I could descend into the garden without going down stairs through the house.... I used to find some relief by walking alone in the garden, after dark, and cursing with hearty good will the authors of that terrible system that had turned the character of the Revolution I had been proud to defend. I went but little to the Convention, and then only to make my appearance, because I found it impossible to join in their tremendous decrees, and useless and dangerous to oppose them. My having voted and spoken extensively, more so than any other member, against the execution of the king, had already fixed a mark upon me; neither dared any of my associates in the Convention to translate and speak in French for me anything I might have dared to have written.... Pen and ink were then of no use to me; no good could be done by writing, and no printer dared to print; and whatever I might have written, for my private amusement, as anecdotes of the times, would have been continually exposed to be examined, and tortured into any meaning that the rage of party might fix upon it. And as to softer subjects, my heart was in distress at the fate of my friends, and my harp hung upon the weeping willows.
"As it was summer, we spent most of our time in the garden, and passed it away in those childish amusements that serve to keep reflection from the mind,—such as marbles, Scotch hops, battledores, etc., at which we were all pretty expert. In this retired manner we remained about six or seven weeks, and our landlord went every evening into the city to bring us the news of the day and the evening journal."
The "we" included young Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Christie, Mr. Choppin, probably Mr. Shapworth, an American, and M. Laborde, a scientific friend of Paine. These appear to have entered with Paine into co-operative housekeeping, though taking their chief meals at the restaurants. In the evenings they were joined by others,—the Brissots (before the arrest), Nicholas Bonneville, Joel Barlow, Captain Imlay, Mary Wollstonecraft, the Rolands. Mystical Madame Roland dreaded Paine's power, which she considered more adapted to pull down than to build, but has left a vivid impression of "the boldness of his conceptions, the originality of his style, the striking truths he throws out bravely among those whom they offend." The Mr. Shapworth alluded to is mentioned in a manuscript journal of Daniel Constable, sent me by his nephew, Clair J. Grèce, LL.D. This English gentleman visited Baton Rouge and Shapworth's plantation in 1822. "Mr. S.," he says, "has a daughter married to the Governor [Robinson], has travelled in Europe, married a French lady. He is a warm friend of Thomas Paine, as is his son-in-law. He lived with Paine many months at Paris. He [Paine] was then a sober, correct gentleman in appearance and manner." The English refugees, persecuted for selling the "Rights of Man," were, of course, always welcomed by Paine, and poor Rickman was his guest during this summer of 1793.* The following reminiscence of Paine, at a time when Gouverneur Morris was (for reasons that presently appear) reporting him to his American friends as generally drunk, was written by Rickman:
* Rickman appears to have escaped from England in 1792,
according to the following sonnet sent me by Dr. Grèce. It
is headed: "Sonnet to my Little Girl, 1793. Written at
Calais, on being pursued by cruel prosecution and
persecution."
"Farewell, sweet babe! and mayst thou never know,
Like me, the pressure of exceeding woe.
Some griefs (for they are human nature's right)
On life's eventful stage will be thy lot;
Some generous cares to clear thy mental sight,
Some pains, in happiest hours, perhaps, begot;
But mayst thou ne'er be, like thy father, driven
From a loved partner, family, and home,
Snatched from each heart-felt bliss, domestic heaven!
From native shores, and all that's valued, roam.
Oh, may bad governments, the source of human woe,
Ere thou becom'st mature, receive their deadly blow;
Then mankind's greatest curse thou ne'et wilt know."