Thomas Paine – The Man Who Changed the World with Words

In the early months of 2022, we began witnessing the heroic defense of their democracy and national sovereignty by the brave people of Ukraine. The nations of the West, long paralyzed by self-loathing and an insidious culture war over issues of colonial guilt, gender pronouns, patriarchy, critical race theory, and faith, suddenly found themselves faced with the existential threat of thermonuclear war.

These recent developments have caused many to pause and reflect on the fundamental principles that truly underpin our civilization and whether we have the will and tenacity to defend them as vigorously as the people of Ukraine. Foundational values we now take for granted, such as representative government, national sovereignty, personal liberty, free speech, and the rule of law, are increasingly buried under a pernicious media circus that pedals anxiety, shame, and guilt as cornerstones of our civilization rather than pride in our at times painful journey of post-Enlightenment achievements. So much so, it seems, that other nations and even immigrants are more prepared to fight for those values than we are.

But it wasn't always that way. Struggles such as that unfolding in Eastern Europe are not new to our civilization, and it would do us well to remind ourselves why other people all around the world desperately want to be a part of it. It's also worth exploring what motivated ordinary people in our several shared cultures two and a half centuries ago to finally take a stand and fight against tyranny, who the heroes were that inspired them to do so, and thus hopefully correct the skewed vision we have of ourselves so that our young people continue to believe our way of life is still worth protecting.

To that end, the Western world owes much of what we are today to a little-known hero, an ordinary tradesman, self-educated, who wrote booklets and essays directed at other ordinary people, everyday battlers, not university snobs. His writings inspired working-class Americans to throw off British tyranny, likewise French peasants to throw off their own monarchy, and given the entire continent of South America to yearn for independence from her indifferent and exploitative mother [Music] Spain.

But more than this, the hero we will examine today tirelessly lobbied to ban slavery, to give equality to women, land rights to indigenous people, to limit corporate greed, guarantee fair working conditions, education and a head start for young people, and even pensions for the elderly, at a time when the 1% really did rule the rest of us with an iron fist, and when you could easily lose your head over a casual comment in the pub. Join us as we dive into the life and times of Thomas Paine, the plain-talking, big-thinking common man who had the incredible gift of being able to present the ideas of the greatest philosophers of the age into everyday language that ordinary people could easily relate to, be inspired to fight for, and in doing so, change the course of world history.

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We are often told that our civilization owes most of its rational, progressive, and egalitarian values to the Enlightenment, or the Age of Reason. A number of philosophers and political thinkers are frequently listed as the architects of that era, and credit is lavishly heaped upon them for initiating the shift from faith to reason, from superstition to science, and from absolutism to constitutional government, and by virtue of this, transforming common folk from passive subjects into citizens of a brave new world. It's often been said that the pen is mightier than the sword, but little of all this intellectual enlightenment sophistry ever trickled out of elite circles and down to ordinary people, who still lived in relative poverty, illiteracy, and exploitation, even in the exciting new colonial territories of America. The works of a quill are all but useless to a population who can't make sense of fancy words written by fancy snobs that could only be understood by other fancy snobs in privileged circles.

But everything changed when an otherwise unremarkable young man began distilling those ideas into words that were easily understood by ordinary people. Our story begins in 1737 in the small English market town of Thetford in Norfolk, where Joseph Paine, a local tenant farmer and corset maker, and his wife Frances lived with their children, Elizabeth and Thomas. Elizabeth died while still in her infancy, and Thomas remained their only child.

Now, Joseph Paine was a devout Quaker who valued education, and he sent his only son, Thomas, to the local public school where he received a basic education in literacy and numeracy that might prepare him for a trade apprenticeship. In his mid-teens, the Quakers were a Protestant religious sect in England who were famous for their egalitarianism, anti-slavery philosophy, pacifism, and disdain for the established church hierarchy and dogma, and these principles would go a long way in influencing the course of young Thomas' career, as we'll later see. For a more in-depth look at the Quakers, please see my video on Captain James Cook, who was born around the same time and who was also raised within this deeply religious community.

Anyway, at the age of 13, Thomas was apprenticed to his father, and as fathers so often unhappily discover, his son wasn't particularly excited by the prospects of spending his adult life working as a glorified tailor under Dad's critical tutelage, despite the reasonable income and work conditions it promised him. Indeed, he also seemed to be reluctant to adopt his father's pacifist religion, being, it seems, more than a little prone to his mother's patriotic Anglicanism. Because Thomas later relates a story about how he once tried to run away and join the crew of a merchantman engaging in privateering upon French shipping in the English Channel. He relates that he was about 16 years old and had signed up to serve on a ship called the *Terrible* under a captain called William Death. His father somehow got wind of it and dragged him home, kicking and screaming.

It seems just as well, because we know that somewhat later, the aptly named ship and her captain were set upon in the English Channel by a French warship, and it was so badly mauled in the fighting that all of the officers, bar one, were killed, including Captain Death, along with 150 other sailors, with the ship barely limping back to port with only 17 survivors, to the horror of the local population. In any case, at the end of his apprenticeship at the age of 19, Thomas decided not to work for the family business and instead made his way to London, working for John Morris, a famous corset maker in the city. When he was swept up in the textile trade protests for better pay and working conditions, we don't know all the intricate details, but it seems that Thomas soon found himself unemployed and once again casting his gaze out to sea, signing up to join the crew of another ship, the *King of Prussia*, under Captain Men.

You see, the Seven Years' War had just erupted between Britain and France, and merchant captains were given letters of marque to engage all enemy ships, plunder and capture them, where the spoils would be sold back home and profits split between the crown, ship owners, and crews. For captains with fast ships, preying upon fat, juicy merchant vessels was a much more lucrative venture than trade, such that even an ordinary could potentially make a decade's worth of income in a six-month cruise on the main without having to sign up to the onerous pay, discipline, and harsh conditions of the Royal Navy. In fact, these privateers often attracted excellent sailors and veterans precisely because of the chance for spoils of war, decent food, agreeable conditions, and flexible enlistment commitments. The Navy also benefited because it took no responsibility for wages, food, or idle time while still reaping a significant portion of the booty when enemy goods were confiscated and sold at auction. It was in every sense legalized piracy upon civilian shipping and was practiced shamelessly by all countries.

So it was that within a couple of weeks of setting out, the *King of Prussia* bagged a number of French prizes: *Leaki*, bound for Mississippi with food, gunpowder, cannons, and ammunition, and soon after, *Le Montreal*, bound for Bordeaux from Martinique, chalk full of sugar, tobacco, and other New World goodies. Another fat prize, *La Fleur*, on route from the West Indies, was also soon captured, and over the ensuing weeks, they retook an Irish ship called the *Handy* that had recently been seized by the French, now to be followed up by the capture of another four vessels soon after, laden with wine and provisions such as rum, beer, salt beef, pork, cheese, and other French delicacies that made for quite a few fringe benefits in the menu that was served to the crew. Eventually, the ship returned home after a six-month adventure with quite a handsome profit made by all involved.

It's quite a testament to Paine that in his later memoir, he never boasts about his own supposed bravery, bloodlust, or other accomplishments and reflects soberly and regretfully on the whole business of privateering as being essentially immoral. Despite non-conformity to his father's religious precepts, he must have nevertheless been affected by the violent and ruthless carnage of the naval warfare he observed, and even in his later revolutionary writings, he always maintained, perhaps naively, an optimism that a bloodless coup was always possible.

Having finished his tour, Paine tells us that in the enterprise, he had managed to carve out a considerable fortune for himself, no mean feat for a teenage landlubber of zero experience in such a short time. It seems he now left his privateering days behind him and spent the next two years cashed up enough to wander the bookshops, coffee salons, and reading rooms of London, immersing himself in the latest literature and discussions on science, politics, and philosophy from all over Europe. He even attended lectures at the Royal Society, where he would go on to submit a research paper of his own to Sir Joseph Banks, its president, on the arch structure of iron bridges, a subject that continued to interest him his whole life and resulted in a number of them being built throughout Europe.

It was a time of the emerging European middle class, where self-made and self-educated men formed clubs and societies in which they conducted business, but also discussed the political and social climate that had an inevitable bearing upon their investments and future plans. Their expanding networks of international trade partnerships often bypassed the controls and limitations that traditionally blocked their direct participation in the economic life of their country, such that the aristocracy found it increasingly difficult to keep a monopoly on power. Indeed, many aristocrats were themselves heavily in debt and resented the burgeoning mercantile class that was becoming increasingly uppity and questioning of their loyalty to what was often perceived as an inept, indolent, and parasitic kleptocracy. Recent advancements in science also began eroding old notions of how the world works, and through these several means, the established order came under increasing scrutiny by a progressively literate and rational population. This crucible of dissenting ideas would occasionally spill out of the taverns and coffee houses into the factories and mines as workers began to organize and agitate for better living conditions.

Thomas Paine was front and center during this turbulent time, but when his money eventually ran out, he had no choice but to go back to the trade he knew and established a small corset-making business in the town of Sandwich in Kent. In 1759, the sudden pressures of necessity not only forced his hand economically but also, it seems, emotionally, as he soon after settled into married life at the age of 22 with Mary Lambert, an orphan servant of a local wool draper. Wife apocryphal stories tell us that at this time, Thomas became something of a part-time independent preacher, but his business was not going well, and it seems no amount of side hustle could keep them afloat. So the shop was eventually closed, and the young couple were soon forced to move to Margate, another town in the south of England, where Thomas tried to secure any kind of work just to pay the bills.

You see, his young wife was pregnant, but even before the end of their first year of marriage, she died in childbirth along with their premature baby girl. Devastated, Thomas wrote to his father, who pulled a few strings among his Quaker brethren to get him appointed as a supernumerary officer in the Customs Department back in his hometown of Thetford. His job was to inspect cargo, prevent smuggling and corruption, and to collect excise taxes on tobacco and other goods. He continued at this job in a number of posts around the country, but it seems the work didn't agree with him, because he frequently asked for transfers, and it appears agitated for better working conditions for his colleagues. He was fired on what is believed to be trumped-up charges of negligence, but he appealed and was eventually reinstated. In the meantime, he worked at other odd jobs as a servant and even applied to become a church minister. Nevertheless, he still seems to have been quite unhappy, so at one time, he even took on a job as a school teacher in London for a while. Some have suggested that Tom had a blunt and tactless personality which rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, such that he didn't last very long at this job either, and he eventually found himself working back at the excise office.

By 1768, he was posted to the town of Lewes, where he rented a room above a local tobacco and grocery shop. Now, Lewes was a town with a long history of Cromwellian anti-monarchy sentiment, with a vigorous and politically vocal character. This atmosphere seemed to suit Tom, and it wasn't long before he joined a number of local committees, including the local government executive, as well as the Anglican Parish Vestry, which collected tithes and taxes to distribute among the poor. He also appears to have got on well with his landlord, Samuel Olive, who introduced Thomas to a debating club called The Society of 12, who often met to discuss issues of importance to the town, as well as to hone their skills in rhetoric. We have a number of sources from the time wherein other members had remarked on the passionate and well-articulated arguments Tom presented, and he appears to have been held in high esteem within the group.

It was 1771, and 12 years had now passed since Tom's wife and daughter died. The regularity and comfort of the life he was finally settling into was now punctuated by the sudden passing of his friend, sponsor, and landlord, Samuel. Whether it was through some sense of loyalty to his old friend or perhaps even a touch of opportunism on his own part, Tom soon proposed to Samuel's only daughter, Elizabeth, and with their marriage, took over the running of the family business. We don't have a lot of details about their relationship, but whatever love and passion there might have been seems to have evaporated quite quickly, as they filed for divorce in 1774, citing certain unhappy quarrels and dissensions.

Tom, meanwhile, had become a vocal advocate for his fellow excise officers' pay and working conditions, and he lobbied Parliament directly for an improvement in their situation, having printed thousands of pamphlets and distributed them among politicians all across London. You see, there were consistent allegations of bribery and fraud on the waterfront, and Tom argued strongly that it was incredibly difficult to root out endemic corruption if officers were barely able to survive on the measly wages they were being paid. This seems to have aggravated some people in high places, and as before, he was sacked, this time for being absent from his post while supposedly distributing leaflets, although this activity took place in the winter months when the ports were frozen up and closed till the spring. Mounting expenses in the legal battle that followed meant that he had to sell a number of household possessions to avoid being sent to debtor's prison.

It's clear that his growing political activism was taking a toll on both his personal life and finances, because both his marriage and the shop failed in quick succession. In the divorce settlement, Elizabeth got to keep her father's inheritance and the entirety of their remaining assets, and all Tom was left with was a cash sum of £45. This relatively insignificant wad of cash was enough to buy him a ticket to America, and the world would never be the same again.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. After Tom's failed marriage, failed business, and now sacking from his day job, he made his way to London once again, where he was to run into an old acquaintance from his days at the Royal Society lectures by the name of George Lewis Scott. Now, Scott, unlike Paine, was a gentleman of good breeding. His father was Lord Advocate of Scotland and a close confidant of King George I. Scott was quite the polymath, being an excellent musician, mathematician, and writer, being appointed as a fellow of the Royal Society in 1737. He was also at one time appointed tutor for the Prince of Wales, the future George III. He was widely regarded as an affable, honorable, and kindly individual, but his closeness to the court made him some powerful enemies who eventually spread rumors of his being a Jacobite sympathizer, such that he was eventually marginalized from court, and his wife's family openly plotted against him. He found himself increasingly excluded, and his ambitious wife eventually left him.

With Scott now spending much of his time in the company of outsiders, including Royal Society groupies like Paine, as well as colonial interlopers such as Benjamin Franklin. The fact that he didn't think it unseemly to associate with commoners and colonials who shared his interests tells us quite a lot about his broad-mindedness, but also perhaps about his growing isolation. We don't know how close he and Tom were; it seems, on the face of it, an unlikely friendship, but their common interest in science, recent concurrent marriage breakdowns, and Scott's position as commissioner of excise meant that Tom may have sought him out to try and get his old job back.

From what we can tell, Scott seems to have taken a liking to Tom and perhaps found his advocacy for workers' rights compelling. In any case, poor old Scott was no longer himself in a position to do anyone any favors, but he came up with the idea that maybe Tom could make a fresh start in America, where it didn't matter whether you were a gentleman or a commoner, and moreover, that an enterprising and hardworking man could make a happy life for himself in a colony where your name or family pedigree would be no barrier to success. It may be that he was considering such a sea change for himself too.

So it was that he introduced Tom to Benjamin Franklin, who similarly took a liking to him, and the story goes that Ben convinced him to sail to Philadelphia, writing a letter of recommendation which would go some way to ensuring an influential network of contacts once he got over there. But there seems to be more to this story than just a fortuitously casual meeting with talent scout Ben Franklin.

You see, at the time, on the outskirts of London, there was a firebrand Welsh preacher by the name of Richard Price. He was the minister of Newington Green Unitarian Church, built by dissenting English Protestants in 1708. Now, just to give us a little background here, after Oliver Cromwell's Commonwealth fell apart and Charles II was restored to the English throne in 1660, a number of proclamations were aimed at fortifying royal control. Among these was a ban on non-Anglicans holding public office or positions of civil authority, such as university tenures. This was aimed primarily at Catholics, but it also targeted non-conformist Protestant denominations, of which there were many. There were also limitations on congregation sizes, prohibitions on movement, and even building, such that many left for the new world, following in the footsteps of the Pilgrim Fathers of 1620. Eventually, these restrictions were somewhat relaxed, but the ban on public office continued even after the 1690s.

So, these dissident groups, populated by free thinkers, radical moral philosophers, and social theorists, began to establish their own schools, colleges, and seminaries, often substantially superior in their academic rigor to traditional institutions such as government grammar schools and even some university courses held at Cambridge or Oxford. Newington Green became a crucible of rational thought and an outpost of humanist philosophy and politically sensitive ideas in an England still very much in the grip of religious paranoia and intellectual restriction. It was a magnet for those with Republican leanings, and we know that later Tom Paine not only attended sermons there but also visited the Reverend Price at his home, attending private gatherings with other restless intellectuals such as philosopher David Hume, economist Adam Smith, social, political, and religious reformers such as John Howard, John Horne Tooke, John Cartwright, and Ann Jemima Berg, and Mary Wollstonecraft, the mother of feminism, with whom Tom had a long and productive exchange of ideas, reflected in his own writings by a continuous and vocal sympathy to the plight of and discrimination against women.

We know that many of the reforms that took place in England that eventually gave rise to abolition, universal suffrage, social justice, and freedom of religion had their birth in this small London suburb, even with prime ministers such as William Pitt and American founding fathers such as George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin visiting Reverend Price and being strongly influenced by his radical republican and libertarian ideas. Even Jews fleeing persecution in Russian pogroms found a home in this suburb, forming their own unmolested congregation in the neighborhood. Price would himself go on to become notorious for his religious tolerance, liberalism, and vociferous support of both the American and French Revolutions, but he always maintained a pacifist stance and unswerving hope for universal suffrage that was hard even for his enemies to despise him for.

For these and many other reasons, the Reverend Richard Price deserves substantial recognition as the conscience behind some of our greatest Western social achievements, and needless to say, more than the odd book or documentary to honor his contribution to our civilization. And yet, most people would be hard-pressed to even know who he was. In any case, the unusually strong presence of many of Price's principles throughout Paine's works suggests that Tom himself, an outsider, de facto trade unionist, and dissident son of a Quaker, was not only influenced by these dissenting views but probably already well acquainted with a number of those visitors with whom he would later collaborate. Indeed, Ben Franklin may have already met him at one of Price's dinners, but we have no record of any introductions before the officious recommendation by George Lewis Scott that Ben Franklin might find a use for the energetic young activist.

It would appear that Tom Paine's reputation as a prickly customer sat well with American tastes, because by all accounts, Franklin took a shine to him. Nor was it difficult to convince Tom to immigrate to America, with a glowing letter of recommendation by the aging diplomat serving to pull a number of strings to get Tom some lodging, social credit, and a job when he got there. So it was that he invested the last £45 he had to his name in a one-way ticket to Philadelphia. Unfortunately, during the voyage, contaminated water supplies caused an outbreak of typhoid fever that raged over the entire ship, with five passengers dying, and Tom becoming so gravely ill that when the ship finally docked in Philadelphia on the 30th of November 1774, he couldn't be safely disembarked. Benjamin Franklin's personal doctor, who came to welcome him, fortunately took charge of his medical care, and Tom slowly recovered over the next few weeks.

As he regained his strength, he took on temping jobs as a school teacher and as a freelance writer for local magazines and newspapers, whose content was largely comprised of news from the motherland. As a recent migrant with plenty of experiences, he became a regular columnist. His love of books and interest in the sciences saw him frequent the few bookshops and printers that were to be found in town, and this is where he met Robert Aitken, a Scotsman who had migrated five years earlier and was involved in the bookbinding business. He was to go on to publish the first English-language Bible in the colonies, but first, there was something else he wanted to turn his hand to.

Now, one of the peculiarities of the print media of the time was its preoccupation with British news and fashion, with very little content focused on domestic American affairs. There were a dozen or so magazines in circulation, but their readership was limited, and most had failed to get off the ground in any promising manner. Aitken had the idea of publishing a magazine devoted exclusively to American issues, to which Tom, very quickly having taken Pennsylvanian citizenship, was keen to contribute. Now, it wasn't Aitken's goal for the magazine to be a political mouthpiece, but Paine's pointed observations, along with an extension of his pro-worker advocacy into one of now colonial rights, quickly saw him contribute a large number of articles, including two within the inaugural January 1775 edition. The sensitive nature of his content meant that Tom would often write under a pseudonym, and the subject matter seemed to consistently touch a nerve in many readers. The average literacy rate in the colonies at the time is thought to have actually been higher than that in Britain, such that circulation of the magazine rapidly expanded to over 1,500 subscribers, becoming within months the highest of any periodical in the colonies.

Aitken recognized that he had a talented contributor, so he quickly offered Tom the editorship, which he assumed in March of that year. But it seems that Tom had a liking for brandy, and Aitken often struggled to get him to adhere to deadlines. On one occasion, with the deadline having arrived, the printers restless and no copy in hand, Aitken went personally to Tom's apartment and insisted on dragging him to the office to write something in front of him then and there. Tom pulled out a bottle of brandy and a glass. Aitken was later to remark, "The first glass put him in a train of thinking, the second seemed to illuminate him further, and by the third, he began to write with great rapidity, intelligence, and precision. His ideas appeared to flow faster than he could commit them to paper. What he penned from the inspiration of the brandy was perfectly fit for the press without any alteration or correction." It was an observation of his alcohol-fueled genius that would be mirrored by others over the course of his incredible career.

A eulogy poem he published on the death of General Wolfe brought him to the attention of eminent physician Benjamin Rush, who had political aspirations of his own and appreciated Tom's activism and clarity of writing. The two would go on to become good friends, and Rush would facilitate Tom's introduction into political circles. However, at the time, despite the Boston Tea Party and the subsequent raising of militias throughout the colonies, much of American society was split on the question of independence. Even those we usually regard as both founding fathers and revolutionary heroes, such as George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and even Thomas Jefferson, were ambiguous for some time about their support for independence.

You see, the majority of these men were what we might call landed gentry or entrepreneurs who ran very lucrative export and import businesses. A substantial number, such as Washington, were also involved in a series of massive land speculation rackets, illegally appropriating and developing territory from Native Americans who had previously made land rights treaties with the Crown. These self-interested businessmen had complete disregard for the rights of indigenous people, and most were additionally heavily invested in the slave trade. Washington himself owned over 500 slaves and in his will had only made provision for the freedom of one of them after his death.

Never one to shy away from controversy, Paine had written a pamphlet in 1774, which was published in the *Philadelphia Journal*, titled "African Slavery in America." One of the first and certainly most widely circulated criticisms of slavery as unchristian, immoral, and an outrage against humanity and justice. In it, he advocated immediate emancipation for all able-bodied slaves and distribution of land to them, or alternatively, settlement and fair wages on estates they already occupied if they so desired, along with care and dotage upon the already old and infirm. He fully advocated the integration of black people into society and viewed Africans as brethren with equal rights under God's law, and he scathingly attacked those who used the Bible as a justification for the practice of slavery. Within weeks of the publication, the first anti-slavery society was formed in Philadelphia, of which Tom was a founding member. Please see the description section for links to a copy of this essay, along with the other major historical documents he wrote, which I've provided so that you can read them for yourself.

The First Continental Congress, called in 1774, while having the effect of introducing the idea of a common destiny, basically amounted to little more than a protest and a boycott of trade with Britain, under the primary objective of pressuring the British Parliament to rescind a number of taxes and punitive sanctions they introduced into the colonies. But there was no whiff at this stage of any split from the mother country, and most everyone still viewed themselves essentially as British. Indeed, some authors have referred to Americans of the time as being "more English than the English," a peculiar characteristic that is often seen in far-flung colonial cultures. A number of assemblies, such as counties within Virginia, nevertheless formed small-scale militias in case government agents tried to confiscate their goods. Of course, there were Irish and Scottish elements that were more than happy to agitate against a monarchy that was brutally terrorizing their own homelands back in Britain.

Tom was also having none of it, having experienced firsthand the pointlessness of appeal and protest over the course of well over a decade in his previous career as both a tradesman and customs officer. He wrote disparagingly of the attempt to reconcile with Britain again, often under a pseudonym. But his friend Benjamin Rush, supportive of his zeal, nevertheless warned him to avoid at all costs using two words: "Independence" and "Republic." Indeed, a number of other sources tell us that his articles were drawing serious death threats against him, including insults from future President John Adams, who described Tom as "ignorant, foolish, and a knave hypocrite."

The New York Assembly, alarmed at Paine's agitation, took the considerable step of warning him through a resolution that "the grandeur and strength of the British Empire depended essentially on a restoration of harmony of affection between the mother country and her colonies." Other assemblies, such as New Jersey and Philadelphia, also formalized resolutions calling for reconciliation. Undeterred, and by mid-1775, vindicated by his prediction of a doubling down by the British, culminating in the battles of Lexington and Concord, Tom decided to crystallize his arguments for independence into a document that would clearly outline the case against reconciliation.

And so, on the 10th of January 1776, in Philadelphia, he published *Common Sense*. Refusing any profit for himself, he gave express instruction for the booklets to be sold for only a couple of shillings so that anyone could afford to buy it, with all proceeds going into a fund for supplies to the newly raised Continental Army, which was to be commanded by George Washington. The booklet sold 150,000 copies within its first month and would go on to sell half a million more by the end of that year, the biggest-selling book per capita in American history besides the Bible.

In it, Tom outlined the structure of the English Constitution as being essentially a support of two tyrannies: one of the monarch and the other of the aristocracy that supported it. Even the idea of a constitutional monarchy, shutting out the chance of an absolute one, nevertheless possessed powers and privileges way in excess of any justification. He went on to deride the absurdity of hereditary succession, for "all men being originally equals. No one by birth could have a right to set up his own family in perpetual preference to all others forever, and though himself might deserve some decent degree of honors of his contemporaries, yet his descendants might be far too unworthy to inherit them." Truer words were never said.

He then went on to dissect the relationship of Britain and America, concluding that it was now completely one-way. The supposed protection she afforded against Spain or France was based on her own enmity with them rather than any insecurity felt by Americans. He says, "She did not protect us from our enemies on our account, but from her enemies on her account. France and Spain never were, nor perhaps ever will be, our enemies as Americans, but as our being subjects of Great Britain."

The document is peppered with pop logic and catchphrases meant to encompass simple truths and incontrovertible observations, such as: "Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil." "There is something absurd in supposing a continent to be perpetually governed by an island." "The palaces of kings are built on the ruins of the bowers of paradise." "Common sense will tell us that the power which hath endeavored to subdue us is of all others the most improper to defend us." "The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind." "In America the law is king; for as in absolute governments the king is law, so in free countries the law ought to be king." "Of more worth is one honest man to society and in the sight of God than all the crowned ruffians that have ever lived."

Not everyone was impressed by the force of its language and the implications of its message. As already mentioned, John Adams was a vocal critic of Paine and thought his ideas too simplistic and incendiary, referring to his book as a "crapulous mass." But as the war intensified, even Adams was forced to admit the massive effect on public opinion it was having, as he wrote in a letter to Thomas Jefferson: "History is to ascribe the American Revolution to Thomas Paine." The same thought occurred to George Washington, who, burdened with the unenviable task of raising a ragtag army out of previously loyalist farmers and tradesmen, wrote to General Charles Lee, saying, "The sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning contained in the pamphlet *Common Sense* will not leave members of Congress at a loss to decide upon the propriety of Separation. It is working a wonderful change in the minds of many men."

By May of 1776, Congress had already been in session for an entire year. Various petitions were sent to London to diffuse the situation, but these were all rejected out of hand, and so delegates got busy appointing diplomats, raising funds, brainstorming policies, and functioning as a de facto national government. Despite his not being an elected representative to Congress, a number of historians have concluded that the wording, tone, and acclaim of his booklet suggest Tom's participation behind the scenes in the drafting of the Declaration of Independence that was approved on the 4th of July 1776. Apparently, one of the draft copies has his initials as a reviewer written on the back.

Tom Paine's book pulled no punches. Its lively style, simple, direct message, and optimistic tone focused on a utopian vision of the future that arguably saw many recruits join up, inspired by its message. One of the interesting aspects of Paine's *Common Sense* was its continuous and repeated reference to the Bible, underpinning his message of God as king and the divine law as superseding man-made ones. This would be in diametric contrast to his later book, *The Rights of Man*, but we'll come back to that later.

Now, by November of 1776, the euphoria slowly turned to despair, as the British mounted a number of brilliant offensives that saw Washington outmaneuvered or defeated in one battle after another. His battered army found itself in a continual fighting retreat as they abandoned New York, Rhode Island, and Long Island. Morale all but collapsed. Washington had made several tactical blunders, soldiers fled the field, and the army dwindled to fewer than 5,000 men. On top of that, enlistment expiries were pending at the end of the year, which was expected to reduce numbers even more drastically. Lacking rations, fuel, and decent winter quarters, the army had retreated inland and was anticipating complete annihilation at their next engagement.

During this time, Tom put down his quill and picked up a musket, volunteering to serve as aide-de-camp to General Nathaniel Greene, and he witnessed firsthand the dwindling spirits of his compatriots as they retreated in the face of superior professional British and Hessian infantry. Recognizing their impending doom, he was moved to write a series of 13 essays compiled into a volume called *The American Crisis*, late in 1776, with the sole aim of boosting morale, contrasting themes of civic virtue with that of provincial selfishness. He encouraged the army to take comfort in their righteous cause and historical significance. It opens with the iconic paragraph: "These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country. But he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly. It is dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods, and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as Freedom should not be highly rated."

General George Washington was so moved by these words that he had the essays read aloud to every regiment of men in the army while they huddled in their rags, freezing in the relentless winter. The British, meanwhile, had settled into New York for the season, and all throughout the state, loyalist activity, confident of imminent victory, now surged, causing a very real fifth column that threatened to derail the entire campaign for the Patriots. A number of historians have credited this booklet as instrumental instead of deming desertions, as well as boosting re-enlistments in an army that hadn't been paid in months and was literally on the point of starvation and freezing to death. Indeed, as Christmas approached, patriotic fervor instead now swelled, such that Washington was inspired to take the initiative, and he crossed the Potomac on Christmas night.

So, on Boxing Day 1776, he engaged the complacent Hessian mercenary garrison at Trenton and, overwhelming them, took 900 prisoners. A counterattack by British General Cornwallis a week later, on January 2nd, 1777, was repulsed by another creative surprise attack of Washington on his rear, in a second substantial American victory, further boosting morale and having the additional effect of convincing French observers that the Americans were actually worth supporting. Scenes that were in many ways reminiscent of what we're seeing unfold in Ukraine today.

In recognition of his ongoing contribution to the war effort, Tom was appointed Secretary of the Congressional Foreign Affairs Commission. He conducted investigations into the diplomatic activities of Silas Deane, a wealthy entrepreneur and Congress delegate who was sent to France to try and secure a treaty and funds for the war effort. Paine uncovered significant financial irregularities, siphoning of cash, and cronyism that also implicated a number of other wealthy congressmen in a gravy train of corruption at the highest levels. Abrupt and abrasive, as usual, Tom called a spade a spade and accused Deane of being a war profiteer, highlighting that the French had already made overtures to the Americans for aid well before Deane's supposed treaty and personally beneficial material arrangements. This had the effect of both embarrassing the French, who were trying to keep their previous aid quiet, and humiliating several widely regarded national heroes in Congress, who reacted the way any boss of a military-industrial corporation would by orchestrating a public smear campaign and sending agents out to kill him.

So it was that a scandal soon blew up, centered not on the corrupt congressmen, but instead, surprise, surprise, on the whistleblower, accusing him of jeopardizing the treaty with France through supposedly reckless publication of sensitive information. Seriously, folks, this kind of stuff has been going on since forever. Anyway, having narrowly avoided being murdered in the street on a number of occasions, Tom resigned from the commission in 1779, and at this stage, having committed every penny he owned to the war effort, he was now destitute, a public pariah, and unable to even buy himself a meal.

Despite his poverty, Tom kept a keen interest in political affairs, and he became aware of the unrestricted land acquisition scam expanding into the interior of the country. You see, in 1609, the British Crown had given a royal charter to the Virginia Company that granted all land westwards to the Pacific Ocean to the company for its exploitation. A group of wealthy speculators, including George Washington, the Lee and Randolph families, as well as Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, took advantage of this charter and milked it for all it was worth, staking out and laying claim to millions of hectares of land, much of which, as mentioned previously, had long since been granted to loyal Native American tribes that aided the British in their wars against the French in Canada.

Tom was incensed at what he viewed as a shameless land grab by a new generation of entrenched American oligarchs, so he wrote a new pamphlet titled *The Public Good*, in which he argued that the territories to the west of the 13 colonies, designated previously as Crown Land and chartered to private individuals and companies, now legally belonged to the American government, which should nullify the existing charters and take charge of developing and settling the interior. His pamphlet once again touched a nerve in the public domain, and Congress was moved, despite significant opposition by the above-mentioned leaders, to pass legislation formally subsuming these territories under its national jurisdiction and voiding the previous charter made by the British.

Unsurprisingly, Tom soon found himself almost completely friendless, as previously supportive allies such as Washington and Lee, in particular, fumed over the moratorium on their ambitious scramble for personal gain. Feeling increasingly isolated, Tom decided later that year to join his friend and fellow abolitionist, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, on his mission to France, where they were to assist his old benefactor, Ben Franklin, now officially minister to France, in procuring support for the stalling war effort. Successful, they returned to the US in 1781 with several million livres in silver and assurances of another 16 million livres to come. They used their French connections and capital to form a new bank with the express purpose of supplying the army. But when General Washington lobbied Congress for a disbursement of funds to remunerate him personally for his services, Paine and Laurens objected, claiming it would look bad for the already wealthy general to get paid while so many ordinary soldiers were still going without sufficient supplies, food, and pay.

Anyway, by this time, significant evidence had now emerged of the war profiteering Tom had blown the whistle on several years prior, and this, together with his vigorous and successful lobbying in France, served to restore his reputation in the eyes of the public, such that he was awarded a sum of money by Congress in recognition of his services to the country. Tom used this windfall to buy a small cottage in New Jersey in 1783, which he occupied periodically till his death, and it was the only substantial asset he ever owned, having donated all the proceeds of his books to the war effort.

He was now in his mid-40s, and as the war finally drew to a successful close, he rekindled his old interest in science and engineering. He developed, among other things, a smokeless candle, worked with colleagues on steam engine designs, and began working on an idea for bridges with long iron spans that could dispense for the need of a central pylon. Eventually, he became restless, and as he watched his beloved republic increasingly become an instrument of the rich who held all the reins of power, and despite his desperate urging, refused to abolish slavery in their Declaration of Independence, lamenting, "With what consistency or decency can we complain so loudly of attempts by the British to enslave us while we hold so many thousands of black people in slavery?" Tom despaired that slavery was the original sin that stained the soul of a nation he truly believed could be the shining light on the hill among all nations.

In his long conversations with Ben Franklin, who had returned home in 1785, Tom became acutely aware of the plight of the French working class, or the Third Estate, as they were known, and they talked at length on the subject of liberty. In a memorable exchange, Ben Franklin said to him, "Tom, where liberty is, there is my country." Tom reportedly replied, "Sir, where liberty is not, there is mine." Whereupon Tom decided to travel to France to investigate what was shaping up to be another revolution in the making. Arriving in Paris to a warm welcome, since his books had long been smuggled into the country, he spent some considerable time with Jefferson, the current ambassador, who explained that a large part of the strain on the population was due to the near bankruptcy caused by France's exhaustive wars with Britain. The burden of taxation that now fell upon the working class was ironically largely the result of France's substantial economic support of America during their revolution.

A sense of guilt now motivated him to travel to London, where he published another pamphlet, this time aiming to diffuse tension between the two countries by inducing public opposition to war and thus prevent the economic catastrophe that would result. While he was in England, he frequently stayed as a guest of Edmund Burke, a conservative MP of Irish heritage who was well known as a promoter of the rights and welfare of Indians during the East India Company's shameless expansion into and exploitation of Hindustan. Indeed, Tom had considered him a friend, and they got on rather well, sharing a love of science.

And Engineering. But when Revolution broke out in France, much of the British ruling class now became sympathetic to the French monarchy they had previously despised, fearing the spread of revolutionary fervor across the channel into England. Burke published a scathing attack on the evils of Revolution and predicted, correctly, that the new French Republic would end in tears, bloodshed, anarchy, and ultimately a tyranny that was worse than anything they had before. He argued that the aristocratic institutions of Britain were an essential part of its stability and future prosperity, even for commoners.

Payne was rather shocked at both the savagery of the dire tribe as well as the groveling tone of his friend to an aristocracy that despised the both of them. And rumors have persisted that Burke sold his soul to the crown for an annual pension of £1,500. Tom didn't immediately respond, but instead, he began work on a book that would counter those arguments, which would go on to become a seminal work on human rights that would change the face of the modern world. He called it "The Rights of Man."

In it, he highlighted the absurdity of hereditary government, which is based on delusions of superiority rather than competence, with the ruling elite that perpetuated their own privileges rather than check the power of the monarch. He described the English government as a criminal acting as its own judge, in a monarchy that viewed its people as property rather than citizens. Again, drawing on biblical references, he insisted on there being natural, divine laws from which all civil laws should be derived, and that no form of government was legitimate that deprived people of the rights that derived from those natural laws.

In the book, he went on to insist that each generation must be free to choose and adapt its government to be fit for purpose and for the generation now living, not merely perpetuating antiquated models from a bygone era, as though the dead were more important than the living. In that sense, he was far from conservative, despite appeals to ancient sources of law. Payne explained that the violence being perpetrated by revolutionaries in France was the inevitable result of their having been subject to similar and worse violence by their monarchs over many long and brutal centuries of oppression and exploitation, and that if a people are expected to be peaceable, the best example to induce them to be so must come from the top down.

He criticized governments rooted in religious superstition as well as those arising from expansionist conquest. The only legitimate form of government, he argued, was one formed from among the people who frame a contract with their government in the form of a Constitution, which clearly outlines everybody's rights, responsibilities, and limitations, and against which all legislation must be weighed. While Burke held the fatalistic position that suffering and, similarly, the social and political status quo were based on the omnipotent will of God and hence revolution against the established order being inherently wicked, Payne maintained that the free will God granted to man burdened us with the responsibility to continually improve ourselves and the societies we create by standing up to evil and to increase the quality of life of all people.

In this way, Tom was leaning heavily into his Quaker reformist culture, such that the book was widely read and discussed among protest congregations as well as social reform societies throughout Britain. In early 1791, Tom gave the 90,000-word manuscript to a publisher and hurriedly left for Paris, having been informed that he was about to be arrested. The subject matter was so incendiary that his friends risked their lives to get it to print, but print it did, spreading like wildfire throughout the working class, and it soon sold a million copies, despite a bizarre government campaign to discredit him by secretly hiring writers to publish lies about his past in an orchestrated smear campaign that went on for years.

Today, it's generally acknowledged to have been the most politically controversial book ever published in the history of Britain, and it caused genuine panic in the halls of power at Westminster. The next year saw an incredibly vigorous debate among writers throughout Britain for and against Payne's book, including rebuttal by Burke. In response, Tom began work on Part Two of "The Rights of Man," which went even further than the first, doubling down on the idiocy of hereditary government, its propensity to waging war, and its fleecing of ordinary people.

He returned to London and spoke at a number of reformist and even pro-republican societies, such as the Sons of Liberty, where he outlined his vision of an ideal democratic society, how trade promotes peace, and how taxes might be better used to foster childhood education, raise people out of poverty, and provide for the care of the sick and elderly. The constant contrast of his vision with the failings and absurdities of monarchy in Part Two of "The Rights of Man" led to calls by Burke and others to charge Tom with seditious libel, an expedient criminal charge legislated by the government to silence and execute its critics.

He answered the charges with indignation and highlighted their arrogance by writing, "If to expose the fraud and imposition of monarchy, to promote universal peace, civilization, and commerce, and to break the chains of political superstition and raise degraded man to his proper rank—if these things be seditious, let the name of seditious be engraved upon my tomb." He was nevertheless induced by his friend the poet William Blake to flee across the channel before he could be arrested by agents who were now shadowing his every move.

Hailed as a hero in France, he was received in Calais harbor by an artillery salute and escorted to the town hall by mobs of cheering French citizens. His trial back in London nevertheless went ahead without him, and he was duly found guilty without due process, in absentia, and sentenced to death. Payne had the book published at an absolute rock-bottom price so that it would get into as many hands as possible, and indeed it did, being translated into a number of languages and again spreading like wildfire across the entire continent.

At one point, a young army officer sought him out late one night in his apartment in Paris to tell him that he slept with a copy of the book under his pillow every night and that, in his opinion, a statue of gold should be erected to Thomas Paine in every city throughout the entire universe. This young officer was the talented and fiery Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte. Meanwhile, back in England, the government openly paid mobs to roam the streets holding rallies against Tom Paine and burning his effigy, while in France, he was granted honorary citizenship and even elected to their parliamentary assembly, despite not speaking a word of French.

He was appointed to a committee responsible for drafting a new French Constitution, and while he was clearly in favor of a republic, he took the floor to argue against the execution of Louis XVI. You see, he still felt that Louis's support for American independence warranted at least his exile to America. But perhaps now showing the depths of his Quaker roots, he also argued against capital punishment out of principle, and in particular when it might be seen as a revenge killing, which he believed negated any sense of reason or justice. Ironically, his chief opponent in the assembly was a previously staunch anti-death sentence campaigner himself, Maximilien Robespierre, who had now flipped, some say psychologically as well as ethically, and instituted the Reign of Terror, executing anyone who opposed his increasingly radical views on the future of the nation.

By the end of 1793, Tom was banned from the assembly, and he sat in his apartment expecting to be arrested any day by a militantly atheist revolutionary government that he believed had abandoned all sense of reason, morality, and justice. Seeing this soulless atheist regime as blowback against the superstitious theocracy of the church and wanting to clarify his own moderate religious views, he once again picked up his quill and wrote a new treatise, apparently in less than a day, that encompassed his views on religion and morality, championing the deist views on theology popular among progressive intellectuals of the time, which he called "The Age of Reason."

In a clear departure from his previous writings, where he appealed to scripture as a source of divine law, he now criticized biblical stories as superstitious nonsense and the church hierarchy as just another tyrannical institution. He esteemed the person of Christ but lamented that his legacy had been usurped and twisted by institutions who used him purely to secure power for themselves, adding that Christ and the early Christians would be shocked to know what had been done in his name. It's clear that the rationalist view of a clockwork universe governed by laws set in motion by God and left for man to discover and ponder were the basis of his thinking.

It's been suggested that much of Thomas Paine's philosophy was influenced by the works of David Hume, Baruch Spinoza, and Voltaire, whose criticism of Christian theology were already widely known. The dissenting Protestant views of Reverend Price and other thinkers back in England had certainly also left their mark on him, but these moderates had now long died or fled the country in an increasingly paranoid and calcified England that was executing anyone who might be seen as a threat to the established order. So it was that his book had a mixed reception. The few radical reformists that were left promoted it, while the moderates distanced themselves from it and also drifted away from their own activism.

Meanwhile, Tom's anticipation of imminent arrest was realized as soldiers came for him just as the ink was drying. They transported him to the notorious Luxembourg prison, which was effectively a holding facility for those condemned to death. A number of prominent Americans living in Paris swung into action and protested his arrest, lobbying for his immediate release. The chair of the assembly refused to recognize Tom's American citizenship, instead maintaining that he was an Englishman and thus an enemy of the French Republic.

Tom wrote to President George Washington back home, pleading for him to write to the French government on his behalf, but no letter was ever forthcoming. The current American Diplomat Minister for France, Gouverneur Morris, strangely also declined to verify Tom's American citizenship or speak on his behalf, which can only be interpreted as a conspiracy of silence aimed at distancing the American government from their once-upon-a-time national hero. This was because the United States had recently begun negotiations that ended in the Jay Treaty, basically a fresh start and cushy love-in between America and her old enemy, the British Crown. Thomas Paine was now viewed as a political liability by a president who owed the existence of the very nation he governed to the passion and tireless genius of Thomas Paine, now languishing in filth and despair in a French prison awaiting imminent execution by guillotine.

Robespierre took the silence of the American president as a green light to liquidate his irritating prisoner. Indeed, a purge of the jail inmates was soon conducted, with the chief warden marking the cell door with chalk of all those listed for execution. As luck would have it, Tom was receiving a number of American visitors that morning, and the jailer left the door open, such that the chalk mark was made on the inside of the door rather than the outside. When the death squad came to round up the condemned, his door had by now been closed, such that the mark was on the inside, and the squad passed him by unawares. Hundreds lost their lives that day.

Fortunately, by this time, Tom had only to hang on another couple of days because Robespierre was himself overthrown, arrested, and executed before he got word of our hero's fortunate reprieve. Nevertheless, he continued to languish in prison until the new American minister to France, future President James Monroe, was alerted to the situation and soon had him released. By this time, Tom had spent 11 months in the cruelest prison in France, expecting each day to be his last and hoping desperately for aid from Washington. When Monroe saw him, he was moved to tears. So weak and fragile had he become that he didn't think Tom would survive. He had him moved to the American Embassy, where he lingered on the edge of death for some months.

But Providence had not yet finished with Tom, and as he slowly regained his health, it gave him plenty of time to think about revolution, injustice, and man's inhumanity to man. By 1795, he was once again admitted to the French National Assembly but voted against the new Constitution, which, despite having included a clause on the abolition of slavery, had removed his previous insistence on a clause for universal suffrage, which is the right to vote guaranteed to all adult citizens regardless of wealth, income, gender, social status, race, ethnicity, or political stance. The Constitution only extended the right to vote to men over the age of 25.

Tom was also bitter about his betrayal by Washington, a man whose efforts in the war he always supported and raised up in his earliest writings as a great and noble general. But Washington's silence during Tom's darkest hour was more than he could bear, and he wrote a scathing open letter to him, questioning his principles and condemning his collusion with Imperial Britain. Washington never replied. As time dragged on, he also became critical of new President John Adams for favoring Britain over France, which now found itself beset on all sides by enemies, while America stood by to watch its fellow republic attacked by the same British government that tried to extinguish its own flame of freedom not that long ago.

Realizing that France needed to take the initiative, he published propaganda pamphlets encouraging Britons to overthrow their own government and join France's Republican aspirations, and even to welcome French invasion. But as Napoleon took power, Tom saw in him the kind of tyrant that Burke had warned about right at the start, and he withdrew his support for the Corsican, becoming increasingly frustrated at both the internal and external chaos that beset France.

He was now living in Paris as a guest of Nicolas Bonneville and his wife, Marguerite Brazier. Bonneville was a journalist, publisher, and bookseller of substantial political reputation, with whom he had been collaborating on several book translations, and his wife, Marguerite, was a well-known feminist writer and activist with whom Thomas frequently discussed issues such as suffrage and legal rights for women. But Bonneville came under suspicion for harboring a political dissident, and when he compared Napoleon to Oliver Cromwell, he was jailed, and his printing business was shut down, leaving Tom without much recourse then to try and head back to America.

He was now in his 50s, and the strain of political life, not to mention his incarceration, was starting to take its toll. In one of the frequent ironies of his life, the Jay Treaty, which he so despised that ended conflict with Britain, actually now made it safe for him to return to the United States aboard an American vessel, as the Royal Navy was no longer able to board and arrest him. So it was that his old friend Thomas Jefferson, now president, extended an invitation for him to come home in 1802 and to live out his days in comfort and celebrity.

Seeing no further way to influence either French or British politics, and with his friend Bonneville now in serious trouble, Tom paid for Marguerite and their three children (to the youngest of whom Tom was godfather) to accompany him to the United States, where they would be safe until they could be joined by Bonneville. Thomas was now 65 years old and becoming quite frail. Marguerite and the boys lived with him on his small property, where she took care of the ailing hero while he continued to write impassioned essays in support of the abolition of slavery, indigenous rights, the right of adults to vote, the right for workers to form trade unions, and condemning the disenfranchisement of women generally. His views on land rights, a pension for old people, basic income, and tax incentives that aimed to reduce poverty were among the first such philosophies to ever be published in his book "Agrarian Justice."

But President Jefferson had not anticipated that the fickle and amnesic public, in the grip of a peculiar Christian revivalist spiritual movement, increasingly viewed Tom as anti-Christian and even atheist, based on his book "The Age of Reason," despite nothing being further from the truth. Not only that, but they failed to appreciate his criticisms of George Washington, who was by now unimpeachably lionized as America's great champion. So any condemnation of their first president was viewed as similarly blasphemous. Tom Payne had now become a persona non grata in the very country he fought to create.

And when he traveled to Washington at the invitation of President Jefferson, he was later to write that it was impossible even to secure a hotel room or order a meal in a restaurant unless he went incognito. President Jefferson, to his credit, took a huge political gamble in openly honoring his old friend at a time of so much hostility directed towards him, but he clearly felt that Tom represented the burning conscience of a nation that was already losing its way. And so the two great men spent much time in private conversation, where Tom encouraged the new president to spread American values by forming an international association of nations where differences could be settled peacefully and the rights of all people would be enshrined in law, a concept that would take over a century and multiple tragic world wars to finally catch on.

He also suggested to Jefferson that he ought to purchase the Louisiana territories from Napoleon, who was near bankruptcy and desperate for cash in his ongoing wars against pretty much the whole of Europe. This recommendation was to result in the greatest land purchase in American history, and for that matter, possibly the greatest property bargain in history, too. But scarcely a soul today knows that America's greatest patriot, now nearing the end of his life, was the facilitator of this incredible economic boon to the nation.

And yet, as though no amount of humiliation was sufficient, on Election Day 1806, as old Tom Payne shuffled his way towards the local polling booth, he was barred from voting by the electoral officer on the bogus argument that President Washington and Minister Morris had previously refused to confirm his citizenship all those years ago while he was languishing in a French jail. This cynical act of betrayal finally broke him, and we hear little of Thomas Paine in the ensuing two years. We are told he now spent long days sitting quietly in his chair and staring blankly out into the distance.

Meanwhile, across the entire continent of South America, people were agitating for revolution. Napoleon's conquest of Spain saw its colonies abandoned, and it seemed the time was now right for them to follow the example of the United States. As Americans tried to forget their founding hero, Latin America discovered him, with a number of leaders such as Gervasio Artigas, the father of Uruguay, and José de San Martín, the Liberator of Argentina, Chile, and Peru, being inspired by "The Rights of Man," "Common Sense," and "The Age of Reason."

On the 8th of June 1809, Thomas Paine, American patriot, journalist, reformer, and human rights activist, passed away. He had never remarried and had no surviving children. No state funeral, commemoration, or national vigil was held in his honor, and even his final wish to be buried in the local Quaker Cemetery was denied. So Madame Bonneville, who had been his carer over these last painful few years, had him buried under a walnut tree on his small property in New Rochelle, New York. A local newspaper reported that there were only six people present at his funeral: Marguerite and one of her sons, an old Quaker friend, and a couple of black freedmen who came to pay their respects to this tireless champion of their freedom.

In one final irony, a decade after his death, William Cobbett, one-time British loyalist parliamentarian and outspoken enemy of Paine, having himself later suffered the sting of British betrayal, realized the injustice of Tom's shameful demise. He made his way to the grave site and, perhaps in an act of personal atonement, disinterred Tom's body, hoping to take the remains back to England and have him reburied there as a national hero. However, Cobbett never realized his dream, and the remains of Tom Paine have now long since vanished.

Today, there is no trace of the man who was arguably the father of Western democracy and those Enlightenment values we ordinary people hold so dear. So how do we sum up Thomas Paine's legacy? He was a utopian visionary whose faith in the future and human potential, despite so many setbacks and disappointments, never wavered. Some might call him naive, even delusional, but he was adamant that it was possible for all people to live in peace and prosperity if democratic institutions were set up in a way that enabled their full participation in political life. He directed most of his writing to ordinary people, believing that we, in our own hands, have the greatest power to affect long-lasting change. To some, he was a voice in the wilderness and a prick to the conscience of those few who would rule over the many. But perhaps Tom said it best himself when he declared his credo to the world: "Independence is my happiness, my country is the world, and my religion is to do good." Now that's a credo well worth adopting and fighting for.