by Douglas Messerli
Thomas Paine Common
Sense (Philadelphia: William and Thomas Bradford, 1776)
Craig Nelson Thomas
Paine: Enlightenment, Revolution, and the Birth of Modern Nations (New
York: Viking, 2006)
One of the most important documents of American history and
perhaps the most influential work in swaying the American public to declare
independence, Common Sense hardly
needs my commentary added to the
numerous far more learned commentaries I am sure exist. What struck me upon my
first adult reading of the pamphlet was just how “uncommon,” in some regards,
Paine’s work is, and, at times, how nonsensical it is, a few examples of which
I will mention.
Paine definitely
convinces with his highly Protestant-based arguments against monarchies in
general and against the English in particular. Given the complex role
government plays and its current self-aggrandizement, however, it will surprise
new readers perhaps that, against the natural good of society, Paine sees government as a necessary evil, as a force needed only when
society has grown large and diverse enough that it can no longer control
aberrant behavior, and, accordingly, needs laws to rule man’s nature.
“Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence.” Tell that to
Washington!
Paine then
proposes a congress of annually changing individuals. But, from a seemingly
contradictory position, argues for a large number of representatives in order
to better reflect the diversity of viewpoints. Lest he seem to be arguing from
a Libertarian viewpoint, however, by work’s end he has conjured up a rather
active and complex government, one raising money through commercial land and
accruing a national debt, which, he posits, is not only necessary for the fight
against England, but an actual good in that it helps to bond its people
together.
His positions
against British rule of the colonies, indeed, make a great deal of common
sense. But, in the end, his arguments seem to center upon two tenants: 1.) that
America will ultimately divorce itself from England anyway, and 2.) that it is
now the best time to do so. Not only does he see it as the perfect time in
terms of size of population and resources, but also the best time to act before
civil unrest forces other kinds of government upon the people or—without a
sufficient navy—American cities will be attacked by rebel pirates invading
seaports. Why have we no Philadelphia pirate stories? The pirate invasion of
Newport? It appears that from the very beginning the settlement of our country
had to do with embattlement against lawless and violent forces: the concerns
with the pirates of the 18th century would become problems with the
renegade gunfighters and the Western Indian tribes of the 19th century.
One of Paine’s
most unusual “commonsensical” observations against English rule is that it is
“unnatural” for such a small island to rule such a large land mass. Alas,
history—not all of which Paine could be cognizant of—has shown us many such
examples, including Britain’s rule of India, Portugal’s of Brazil, Spain of a
great many of its conquests, and tiny Belgium’s rule of the Congo. Of course,
he might have recalled tiny Rome’s rule of most of the then known world. Yes,
it is unnatural.
Finally, in a
later edition, Paine takes on the protests of a Quaker group against his
pamphlet by arguing that, since the Quakers believe it is wrong to interfere
with any government’s course, it is “un-Quaker-like” to argue against his positions. Putting aside the illogic
of the Quaker position, Paine seems to use Quaker theology as a means to quiet
any Quaker disagreement. Return to your shells, ye turtles! He might rather
have perceived the immense effect of his statements to have engaged such a generally
silent gathering. In a sense, with the Quaker involvement in political
discussion, one might have recognized his battle had already been won.
Rome, Giardino del Lago, Villa Borghese, October 17, 2003
After reading
Nelson’s elucidating and well-written biography, I realized that, despite my
belief of 2003 that many “learned” writings already existed, if Nelson is to be
given credence, many of the biographies and evaluations of Paine have been
lacking in their understanding of this multifaceted hero, and some have been
outright fabrications of his life.
Nelson’s book
begins with the strange disinterment of Paine’s body (unburying and reburying
the dead seems to be a minor theme running through the pages of My Year 2003)
from a Westchester, New York rural cemetery by former enemy William Cobbett,
who attempted to return the corpse to Paine’s native England in order to place
it in a proper memorial. He failed to raise money for such a monument, and
Nelson’s book ends with the realization that Paine’s body parts, inherited by
Cobbett’s family and passed on to others, had completely disappeared, scattered
as it were throughout England. It is a fit ending to the adventures of this
great American patriot, born Thomas Pain [sic], who, after attempting to awaken
the sentiments of freedom-loving Britishers, escaped impending imprisonment by
traveling to the British American colonies, and soon after—as a close friend
and ally to figures such as George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas
Jefferson, and others—literally ignited the American Revolution through his
best-selling Common Sense. The American Paine attempted to join the battle as a soldier in Washington’s unit,
but was told to return to Philadelphia where he could better serve the cause
through his writings.
Nelson’s
portraits of not only Paine but numerous other American patriots who, after the
Revolution, felt that all they stood for had failed, are particularly touching,
as one realizes that the perspectives of one’s own lifetime are always limited.
But in Paine’s case, the despair was not based only upon changes of reputation,
but on his inability—despite being one of the best-selling authors of all
time—to survive; he received little remuneration or compensation from the
American government for his great role in its founding, and was forced to give
up the only government position as a governmental clerk because of his literary
attacks on special ambassador Silas Deane, whom Paine felt had brokered
treaties that also included commercial gains for himself. Although Deane was
asked to present Congress with his financial records, and he was replaced by
John Adams, he was ultimately found not guilty, after his death, and his heirs
were paid a significant amount for recompense. Later, however, it was revealed
that Deane had been working as a British informant for most of the Revolution.
For Paine, however, it meant from the start of the “affair” that he must fend
financially for himself, and within a few years he returned to England, raising
so much anti-royalist sentiment in that country that he was forced to flee to
France.
Paine, now a hero
in France, equally helped in the French Revolution, becoming a member of the
National Convention and joining the French legislation—until various factions
made it such a violent affair that his own life was in danger. Without the help
of the American representatives Adams and Gouverneur Morris, now his sworn
enemies, and receiving only silence from his former friend Washington, Paine
had no choice but to remain in harm’s way. Eventually imprisoned, his life was
(as Nelson describes it) almost accidentally spared, but his health was ruined,
his spirit sapped. Upon his return to the US he had little monies and great
responsibilities in his caring from Mme. Bonneville and her three sons, in
whose home he had stayed during his last years in France. And despite his
continued publications—mostly in support of the Jeffersonians and attacks on
the Federalists—he had a difficult time surviving. Certainly, his reputation
had been nearly destroyed in America, in part because of his anti-religious affirmations—beliefs,
in fact, shared by most of the Revolutionary patriots— in The Age of Reason.
Beyond the painful
story of Paine, his contributions, and his ultimate downfall in the US and
France (his reputation had already been destroyed in the British press and
public opinion), Nelson reminds us of the conservatism of Hamilton, Marshall,
Jay, Madison, the Morrises, and Washington as opposed to those I perceive as
more enlightened men such as Jefferson, Paine, and Franklin. Indeed, politics in the early days of our nation
often seem to have been as corrupt, petty, and insular as they are today.
While clearly
oversensitive and often vain—in Nelson’s portraiture of him—Paine comes alive
as an impassioned speaker for reasoned governments in opposition to those who
would delimit human rights. Not having previously realized that Paine’s father
had been a Quaker and that Paine had been reared with Quaker values, I can now
more clearly understand his outrage for the Quaker attacks on Common Sense. Yet
my closing comments of 2003 seem even more relevant after reading Nelson’s
brilliant biography: despite any feelings of failure or necessary defense of
his positions, Paine had already won the battle for the hearts of all
freedom-loving people of the world.
Los
Angeles, December 21, 2006
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