The Age of Reason, by Thomas Paine

[_Maksutov]

That part of the universe that is called the solar system (meaning
the system of worlds to which our earth belongs, and of which Sol,
or in English language, the Sun, is the centre) consists, besides
the Sun, of six distinct orbs, or planets, or worlds, besides the
secondary called the satellites or moons, of which our earth has one
that attends her in her annual revolution around the Sun, in like
manner as the other satellites or moons attend the planets or worlds
to which they severally belong, as may be seen by the assistance of
the telescope.

The Sun is the centre, round which those six worlds or planets
revolve at different distances therefrom, and in circles concentrate
to each other. Each world keeps constantly in nearly the same track
round the Sun, and continues, at the same time, turning round itself
in nearly an upright position, as a top turns round itself when it
is spinning on the ground, and leans a little sideways.
It is this leaning of the earth (23.5 degrees) that occasions
summer and winter, and the different length of days and nights. If the
earth turned round itself in a position perpendicular to the plane
or level of the circle it moves in around the Sun, as a top turns
round when it stands erect on the ground, the days and nights would
be always of the same length, twelve hours day and twelve hours
night, and the seasons would be uniformly the same throughout the
year.

Every time that a planet (our earth for example) turns round
itself, it makes what we call day and night; and every time it goes
entirely round the Sun it makes what we call a year; consequently
our world turns three hundred and sixty-five times round itself, in
going once round the Sun.*

*Those who supposed that the sun went round the earth every 24
hours made the same mistake in idea that a cook would do in fact,
that should make the fire go round the meat, instead of the meat
turning round itself toward the fire.

The names that the ancients gave to those six worlds, and which
are still called by the same names, are Mercury, Venus, this world
that we call ours, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. They appear larger to
the eye than the stars, being many million miles nearer to our earth
than any of the stars are. The planet Venus is that which is called
the evening star, and sometimes the morning star, as she happens to
set after or rise before the Sun, which in either case is never more
than three hours.

The Sun, as before said, being the centre, the planet or world
nearest the Sun is Mercury; his distance from the Sun is thirty-four
million miles, and he moves round in a circle always at that
distance from the Sun, as a top may be supposed to spin round in the
track in which a horse goes in a mill. The second world is Venus;
she is fifty-seven million miles distant from the Sun, and
consequently moves round in a circle much greater than that of
Mercury. The third world is this that we inhabit, and which is
eighty-eight million miles distant from the Sun, and consequently
moves round in a circle greater than that of Venus. The fourth world
is Mars; he is distant from the Sun one hundred and thirty-four
million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than
that of our earth. The fifth is Jupiter; he is distant from the Sun
five hundred and fifty-seven million miles, and consequently moves
round in a circle greater than that of Mars. The sixth world is
Saturn; he is distant from the Sun seven hundred and sixty-three
million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle that surrounds
the circles, or orbits, of all the other worlds or planets.

The space, therefore, in the air, or in the immensity of space,
that our solar system takes up for the several worlds to perform their
revolutions in round the Sun, is of the extent in a straight line of
the whole diameter of the orbit or circle, in which Saturn moves round
the Sun, which being double his distance from the Sun, is fifteen
hundred and twenty-six million miles and its circular extent is nearly
five thousand million, and its globular contents is almost three
thousand five hundred million times three thousand five hundred
million square miles.*

*If it should be asked, how can man know these things? I have
one plain answer to give, which is, that man knows how to calculate an
eclipse, and also how to calculate to a minute of time when the planet
Venus, in making her revolutions around the sun will come in a
straight line between our earth and the sun, and will appear to us
about the size of a large pea passing across the face of the sun. This
happens but twice in about a hundred years, at the distance of about
eight years from each other, and has happened twice in our time,
both of which were foreknown by calculation. It can also be known
when they will happen again for a thousand years to come, or to any
other portion of time. As, therefore, man could not be able to do these
things if he did not understand the solar system, and the manner in
which the revolutions of the several planets or worlds are
performed, the fact of calculating an eclipse, or a transit of
Venus, is a proof in point that the knowledge exists; and as to a
few thousand, or even a few million miles, more or less, it makes
scarcely any sensible difference in such immense distances.

But this, immense as it is, is only one system of worlds. Beyond
this, at a vast distance into space, far beyond all power of
calculation, are the stars called the fixed stars. They are called
fixed, because they have no revolutionary motion, as the six worlds or
planets have that I have been describing. Those fixed stars continue
always at the same distance from each other, and always in the same
place, as the Sun does in the centre of our system. The probability,
therefore, is, that each of these fixed stars is also a Sun, round
which another system of worlds or planets, though too remote for us
to discover, performs its revolutions, as our system of worlds does
round our central Sun.

By this easy progression of ideas, the immensity of space will
appear to us to be filled with systems of worlds, and that no part
of space lies at waste, any more than any part of the globe of earth
and water is left unoccupied.

Having thus endeavored to convey, in a familiar and easy manner,
some idea of the structure of the universe, I return to explain what
I before alluded to, namely, the great benefits arising to man in
consequence of the Creator having made a plurality of worlds, such
as our system is, consisting of a central Sun and six worlds,
besides satellites, in preference to that of creating one world only
of a vast extent.

It is an idea I have never lost sight of, that all our knowledge
of science is derived from the revolutions (exhibited to our eye and
from thence to our understanding) which those several planets or
worlds of which our system is composed make in their circuit round
the Sun.

Had, then, the quantity of matter which these six worlds contain
been blended into one solitary globe, the consequence to us would
have been, that either no revolutionary motion would have existed, or
not a sufficiency of it to give to us the idea and the knowledge of
science we now have; and it is from the sciences that all the
mechanical arts that contribute so much to our earthly felicity and
comfort are derived.

As, therefore, the Creator made nothing in vain, so also must it
be believed that he organized the structure of the universe in the
most advantageous manner for the benefit of man; and as we see,
and from experience feel, the benefits we derive from the structure of
the universe formed as it is, which benefits we should not have had
the opportunity of enjoying, if the structure, so far as relates to our
system, had been a solitary globe- we can discover at least one reason
why a plurality of worlds has been made, and that reason calls forth
the devotional gratitude of man, as well as his admiration.

But it is not to us, the inhabitants of this globe, only, that the
benefits arising from a plurality of worlds are limited. The
inhabitants of each of the worlds of which our system is composed
enjoy the same opportunities of knowledge as we do. They behold the
revolutionary motions of our earth, as we behold theirs. All the
planets revolve in sight of each other, and, therefore, the same
universal school of science presents itself to all.

Neither does the knowledge stop here. The system of worlds next to
us exhibits, in its revolutions, the same principles and school of
science to the inhabitants of their system, as our system does to
us, and in like manner throughout the immensity of space.

Our ideas, not only of the almightiness of the Creator, but of his
wisdom and his beneficence, become enlarged in proportion as we
contemplate the extent and the structure of the universe. The solitary
idea of a solitary world, rolling or at rest in the immense ocean of
space, gives place to the cheerful idea of a society of worlds, so
happily contrived as to administer, even by their motion,
instruction to man. We see our own earth filled with abundance, but
we forget to consider how much of that abundance is owing to the
scientific knowledge the vast machinery of the universe has unfolded.

But, in the midst of those reflections, what are we to think of
the Christian system of faith, that forms itself upon the idea of only
one world, and that of no greater extent, as is before shown, than
twenty-five thousand miles? An extent which a man walking at the
rate of three miles an hour, for twelve hours in the day, could he
keep on in a circular direction, would walk entirely round in less
than two years. Alas! what is this to the mighty ocean of space, and
the almighty power of the Creator?

[_deacon blues]

Thumb's up for Thomas Paine.

[_Maksutov]

Thumb's up for Thomas Paine.

[_Maksutov]

From whence, then, could arise the solitary and strange conceit
that the Almighty, who had millions of worlds equally dependent on his
protection, should quit the care of all the rest, and come to die in
our world, because, they say, one man and one woman had eaten an
apple? And, on the other hand, are we to suppose that every world in
the boundless creation had an Eve, an apple, a serpent, and a
redeemer? In this case, the person who is irreverently called the
Son of God, and sometimes God himself, would have nothing else to
do than to travel from world to world, in an endless succession of
deaths, with scarcely a momentary interval of life.

It has been by rejecting the evidence that the word or works of
God in the creation afford to our senses, and the action of our reason
upon that evidence, that so many wild and whimsical systems of faith
and of religion have been fabricated and set up. There may be many
systems of religion that, so far from being morally bad, are in many
respects morally good; but there can be but ONE that is true; and that
one necessarily must, as it ever will, be in all things consistent
with the ever-existing word of God that we behold in his works. But
such is the strange construction of the Christian system of faith that
every evidence the Heavens afford to man either directly contradicts
it or renders it absurd.

It is possible to believe, and I always feel pleasure in
encouraging myself to believe it, that there have been men in the
world who persuade themselves that what is called a pious fraud
might, at least under particular circumstances, be productive of some
good. But the fraud being once established, could not afterward be
explained, for it is with a pious fraud as with a bad action, it
begets a calamitous necessity of going on.

The persons who first preached the Christian system of faith,
and in some measure combined it with the morality preached by Jesus
Christ, might persuade themselves that it was better than the
heathen mythology that then prevailed. From the first preachers the
fraud went on to the second, and to the third, till the idea of its
being a pious fraud became lost in the belief of its being true; and
that belief became again encouraged by the interests of those who
made a livelihood by preaching it.

But though such a belief might by such means be rendered almost
general among the laity, it is next to impossible to account for the
continual persecution carried on by the Church, for several hundred
years, against the sciences and against the professors of science,
if the Church had not some record or tradition that it was
originally no other than a pious fraud, or did not foresee that it
could not be maintained against the evidence that the structure of the
universe afforded.

Having thus shown the irreconcilable inconsistencies between the
real word of God existing in the universe, and that which is called
the Word of God, as shown to us in a printed book that any man might
make, I proceed to speak of the three principal means that have been
employed in all ages, and perhaps in all countries, to impose upon
mankind.

Those three means are Mystery, Miracle, and Prophecy. The two
first are incompatible with true religion, and the third ought
always to be suspected.

With respect to mystery, everything we behold is, in one sense,
a mystery to us. Our own existence is a mystery; the whole vegetable
world is a mystery. We cannot account how it is that an acorn, when
put into the ground, is made to develop itself, and become an oak.
We know not how it is that the seed we sow unfolds and multiplies
itself, and returns to us such an abundant interest for so small a
capital.

The fact, however, as distinct from the operating cause, is not
a mystery, because we see it, and we know also the means we are to
use, which is no other than putting the seed into the ground. We
know, therefore, as much as is necessary for us to know; and that part
of the operation that we do not know, and which, if we did, we could
not perform, the Creator takes upon himself and performs it for us. We
are, therefore, better off than if we had been let into the secret,
and left to do it for ourselves.

But though every created thing is, in this sense, a mystery, the
word mystery cannot be applied to moral truth, any more than
obscurity can be applied to light. The God in whom we believe is a God
of moral truth, and not a God of mystery or obscurity. Mystery is the
antagonist of truth. It is a fog of human invention, that obscures
truth, and represents it in distortion. Truth never envelops itself in
mystery, and the mystery in which it is at any time enveloped is the
work of its antagonist, and never of itself.

Religion, therefore, being the belief of a God and the practice of
moral truth, cannot have connection with mystery. The belief of a God,
so far from having anything of mystery in it, is of all beliefs the
most easy, because it arises to us, as is before observed, out of
necessity. And the practice of moral truth, or, in other words, a
practical imitation of the moral goodness of God, is no other than our
acting toward each other as he acts benignly toward all. We cannot
serve God in the manner we serve those who cannot do without such
service; and, therefore, the only idea we can have of serving God,
is that of contributing to the happiness of the living creation that
God has made. This cannot be done by retiring ourselves from the
society of the world and spending a recluse life in selfish devotion.

The very nature and design of religion, if I may so express it,
prove even to demonstration that it must be free from everything of
mystery, and unencumbered with everything that is mysterious.
Religion, considered as a duty, is incumbent upon every living soul
alike, and, therefore, must be on a level with the understanding and
comprehension of all. Man does not learn religion as he learns the
secrets and mysteries of a trade. He learns the theory of religion
by reflection. It arises out of the action of his own mind upon the
things which he sees, or upon what he may happen to hear or to read,
and the practice joins itself thereto.

When men, whether from policy or pious fraud, set up systems of
religion incompatible with the word or works of God in the creation,
and not only above, but repugnant to human comprehension, they
were under the necessity of inventing or adopting a word that should
serve as a bar to all questions, inquiries and speculation. The word
mystery answered this purpose, and thus it has happened that
religion, which is in itself without mystery, has been corrupted into a
fog of mysteries.

As mystery answered all general purposes, miracle followed as an
occasional auxiliary. The former served to bewilder the mind, the
latter to puzzle the senses. The one was the lingo, the other the
legerdemain.

But before going further into this subject, it will be proper to
inquire what is to be understood by a miracle.
In the same sense that everything may be said to be a mystery,
so also may it be said that everything is a miracle, and that no one
thing is a greater miracle than another. The elephant, though
larger, is not a greater miracle than a mite, nor a mountain a greater
miracle than an atom. To an almighty power, it is no more difficult to
make the one than the other, and no more difficult to make millions of
worlds than to make one. Everything, therefore, is a miracle, in one
sense, whilst in the other sense, there is no such thing as a miracle.
It is a miracle when compared to our power and to our
comprehension, if not a miracle compared to the power that performs
it; but as nothing in this description conveys the idea that is affixed to
the word miracle, it is necessary to carry the inquiry further.

Mankind have conceived to themselves certain laws, by which what
they call nature is supposed to act; and that miracle is something
contrary to the operation and effect of those laws; but unless we know
the whole extent of those laws, and of what are commonly called the
powers of nature, we are not able to judge whether anything that may
appear to us wonderful or miraculous be within, or be beyond, or be
contrary to, her natural power of acting.

The ascension of a man several miles high in the air would have
everything in it that constitutes the idea of a miracle, if it were
not known that a species of air can be generated, several times
lighter than the common atmospheric air, and yet possess elasticity
enough to prevent the balloon in which that light air is enclosed from
being compressed into as many times less bulk by the common air
that surrounds it. In like manner, extracting flames or sparks of fire
from the human body, as visible as from a steel struck with a flint, and
causing iron or steel to move without any visible agent, would also
give the idea of a miracle, if we were not acquainted with electricity
and magnetism. So also would many other experiments in natural
philosophy, to those who are not acquainted with the subject. The
restoring persons to life who are to appearance dead, as is
practised upon drowned persons, would also be a miracle, if it were
not known that animation is capable of being suspended without being
extinct.

Besides these, there are performances by sleight-of-hand, and by
persons acting in concert, that have a miraculous appearance, which
when known are thought nothing of. And besides these, there are
mechanical and optical deceptions. There is now an exhibition in Paris
of ghosts or spectres, which, though it is not imposed upon the
spectators as a fact, has an astonishing appearance. As, therefore, we
know not the extent to which either nature or art can go, there is
no positive criterion to determine what a miracle is, and mankind,
in giving credit to appearances, under the idea of there being
miracles, are subject to be continually imposed upon.

Since, then, appearances are so capable of deceiving, and things
not real have a strong resemblance to things that are, nothing can
be more inconsistent than to suppose that the Almighty would make
use of means such as are called miracles, that would subject the
person who performed them to the suspicion of being an impostor, and
the person who related them to be suspected of lying, and the doctrine
intended to be supported thereby to be suspected as a fabulous
invention.

Of all the modes of evidence that ever were invented to obtain
belief to any system or opinion to which the name of religion has been
given, that of miracle, however successful the imposition may have
been, is the most inconsistent. For, in the first place, whenever
recourse is had to show, for the purpose of procuring that belief,
(for a miracle, under any idea of the word, is a show), it implies a
lameness or weakness in the doctrine that is preached. And, in the
second place, it is degrading the Almighty into the character of a
showman, playing tricks to amuse and make the people stare and
wonder. It is also the most equivocal sort of evidence that can be set
up; for the belief is not to depend upon the thing called a miracle, but
upon the credit of the reporter who says that he saw it; and,
therefore, the thing, were it true, would have no better chance of
being believed than if it were a lie.

[_Maksutov]

Suppose I were to say, that when I sat down to write this book,
a hand presented itself in the air, took up the pen, and wrote every
word that is herein written; would anybody believe me? Certainly
they would not. Would they believe me a whit the more if the thing
had been a fact? Certainly they would not. Since, then, a real miracle,
were it to happen, would be subject to the same fate as the falsehood,
the inconsistency becomes the greater of supposing the Almighty
would make use of means that would not answer the purpose for
which they were intended, even if they were real.

If we are to suppose a miracle to be something so entirely out
of the course of what is called nature, that she must go out of that
course to accomplish it, and we see an account given of such miracle
by the person who said he saw it, it raises a question in the mind
very easily decided, which is, is it more probable that nature
should go out of her course, or that a man should tell a lie? We
have never seen, in our time, nature go out of her course; but we
have good reason to believe that millions of lies have been told in the
same time; it is therefore, at least millions to one, that the
reporter of a miracle tells a lie.

The story of the whale swallowing Jonah, though a whale is large
enough to do it, borders greatly on the marvelous; but it would have
approached nearer to the idea of a miracle, if Jonah had swallowed the
whale. In this, which may serve for all cases of miracles, the
matter would decide itself, as before stated, namely, is it more
that a man should have swallowed a whale or told a lie?

But suppose that Jonah had really swallowed the whale, and gone
with it in his belly to Nineveh, and, to convince the people that it
was true, had cast it up in their sight, of the full length and size
of a whale, would they not have believed him to be the devil,
instead of a prophet? Or, if the whale had carried Jonah to Ninevah,
and cast him up in the same public manner, would they not have
believed the whale to have been the devil, and Jonah one of his imps?

The most extraordinary of all the things called miracles,
related in the New Testament, is that of the devil flying away with
Jesus Christ, and carrying him to the top of a high mountain, and to
the top of the highest pinnacle of the temple, and showing him and
promising to him all the kingdoms of the World. How happened it that
he did not discover America, or is it only with kingdoms that his
sooty highness has any interest?

I have too much respect for the moral character of Christ to
believe that he told this whale of a miracle himself; neither is it
easy to account for what purpose it could have been fabricated, unless
it were to impose upon the connoisseurs of Queen Anne's farthings
and collectors of relics and antiquities; or to render the belief of
miracles ridiculous, by outdoing miracles, as Don Quixote outdid
chivalry; or to embarrass the belief of miracles, by making it
doubtful by what power, whether of God or of the devil, anything
called a miracle was performed. It requires, however, a great deal
of faith in the devil to believe this miracle.

In every point of view in which those things called miracles can
be placed and considered, the reality of them is improbable and
their existence unnecessary. They would not, as before observed,
answer any useful purpose, even if they were true; for it is more
difficult to obtain belief to a miracle, than to a principle evidently
moral without any miracle. Moral principle speaks universally for
itself. Miracle could be but a thing of the moment, and seen but by
a few; after this it requires a transfer of faith from God to man to
believe a miracle upon man's report. Instead, therefore, of
admitting the recitals of miracles as evidence of any system of
religion being true, they ought to be considered as symptoms of its
being fabulous. It is necessary to the full and upright character of
truth that it rejects the crutch, and it is consistent with the
character of fable to seek the aid that truth rejects. Thus much for
mystery and miracle.

As mystery and miracle took charge of the past and the present,
prophecy took charge of the future and rounded the tenses of faith. It
was not sufficient to know what had been done, but what would be
done. The supposed prophet was the supposed historian of times to
come; and if he happened, in shooting with a long bow of a thousand
years, to strike within a thousand miles of a mark, the ingenuity of
posterity could make it point-blank; and if he happened to be directly
wrong, it was only to suppose, as in the case of Jonah and Nineveh,
that God had repented himself and changed his mind. What a fool do
fabulous systems make of man!

It has been shown, in a former part of this work, that the
original meaning of the words prophet and prophesying has been
changed, and that a prophet, in the sense of the word as now used,
is a creature of modern invention; and it is owing to this change in
the meaning of the words, that the flights and metaphors of the Jewish
poets, and phrases and expressions now rendered obscure by our not
being acquainted with the local circumstances to which they applied at
the time they were used, have been erected into prophecies, and
made to bend to explanations at the will and whimsical conceits of
sectaries, expounders, and commentators. Everything unintelligible
was prophetical, and everything insignificant was typical. A blunder
would have served for a prophecy, and a dish-clout for a type.

If by a prophet we are to suppose a man to whom the Almighty
communicated some event that would take place in future, either
there were such men or there were not. If there were, it is consistent
to believe that the event so communicated would be told in terms
that could be understood, and not related in such a loose and
obscure manner as to be out of the comprehension of those that heard
it, and so equivocal as to fit almost any circumstance that may happen
afterward. It is conceiving very irreverently of the Almighty, to
suppose that he would deal in this jesting manner with mankind, yet
all the things called prophecies in the book called the Bible come
under this description.

But it is with prophecy as it is with miracle; it could not answer
the purpose even if it were real. Those to whom a prophecy should be
told, could not tell whether the man prophesied or lied, or whether it
had been revealed to him, or whether he conceited it; and if the thing
that he prophesied, or intended to prophesy, should happen, or
something like it, among the multitude of things that are daily
happening, nobody could again know whether he foreknew it, or
guessed at it, or whether it was accidental. A prophet, therefore,
is a character useless and unnecessary; and the safe side of the
case is to guard against being imposed upon by not giving credit to
such relations.

Upon the whole, mystery, miracle, and prophecy are appendages
that belong to fabulous and not to true religion. They are the means
by which so many Lo, heres! and Lo, theres! have been spread about
the world, and religion been made into a trade. The success of one
imposter gave encouragement to another, and the quieting salvo of
doing some good by keeping up a pious fraud protected them from
remorse.

[_Maksutov]

Having now extended the subject to a greater length than I first
intended, I shall bring it to a close by abstracting a summary from
the whole.

First- That the idea or belief of a word of God existing in
print, or in writing, or in speech, is inconsistent in itself for
reasons already assigned. These reasons, among many others, are the
want of a universal language; the mutability of language; the errors
to which translations are subject: the possibility of totally
suppressing such a word; the probability of altering it, or of
fabricating the whole, and imposing it upon the world.

Secondly- That the Creation we behold is the real and
ever-existing word of God, in which we cannot be deceived. It
proclaims his power, it demonstrates his wisdom, it manifests his
goodness and beneficence.

Thirdly- That the moral duty of man consists in imitating the
moral goodness and beneficence of God, manifested in the creation
toward all his creatures. That seeing, as we daily do, the goodness
of God to all men, it is an example calling upon all men to practice
the same toward each other; and, consequently, that everything of
persecution and revenge between man and man, and everything of
cruelty to animals, is a violation of moral duty.

I trouble not myself about the manner of future existence. I
content myself with believing, even to positive conviction, that the
Power that gave me existence is able to continue it, in any form and
manner he pleases, either with or without this body; and it appears
more probable to me that I shall continue to exist hereafter, than
that I should have had existence, as I now have, before that existence
began.

It is certain that, in one point, all the nations of the earth and
all religions agree- all believe in a God; the things in which they
disagree, are the redundancies annexed to that belief; and, therefore,
if ever a universal religion should prevail, it will not be by
believing anything new, but in getting rid of redundancies, and
believing as man believed at first. Adam, if ever there were such a
man, was created a Deist; but in the meantime, let every man follow,
as he has a right to do, the religion and the worship he prefers.

END OF THE FIRST PART.

Thus far I had written on the 28th of December, 1793. In the
evening I went to the Hotel Philadelphia (formerly White's Hotel),
Passage des Petis Peres, where I lodged when I came to Paris, in
consequence of being elected a member of the Convention, but left
the lodging about nine months, and taken lodgings in the Rue
Fauxbourg St. Denis, for the sake of being more retired than I could
be in the middle of the town.

Meeting with a company of Americans at the Hotel Philadelphia, I
agreed to spend the evening with them; and, as my lodging was
distant about a mile and a half, I bespoke a bed at the hotel. The
company broke up about twelve o'clock, and I went directly to bed.
About four in the morning I was awakened by a rapping at my
chamber door; when I opened it, I saw a guard, and the master of the
hotel with them. The guard told me they came to put me under
arrestation, and to demand the key of my papers. I desired them to
walk in, and I would dress myself and go with them immediately.

It happened that Achilles Audibert, of Calais, was then in the
hotel; and I desired to be conducted into his room. When we came
there, I told the guard that I had only lodged at the hotel for the
night; that I was printing a work, and that part of that work was at
the Maison Bretagne, Rue Jacob; and desired they would take me
there first, which they did.

The printing-office at which the work was printing was near to the
Maison Bretagne, where Colonel Blackden and Joel Barlow, of the
United States of America, lodged; and I had desired Joel Barlow to
compare the proof-sheets with the copy as they came from the press.
The remainder of the manuscript, from page 32 to 76, was at my
lodging. But besides the necessity of my collecting all the parts of the
work together that the publication might not be interrupted by my
imprisonment, or by any event that might happen to me, it was highly
proper that I should have a fellow-citizen of America with me during
the examination of my papers, as I had letters of correspondence in
my possession of the President of Congress General Washington; the
Minister of Foreign Affairs to Congress Mr. Jefferson; and the late
Benjamin Franklin; and it might be necessary for me to make a
proces-verbal to send to Congress.

It happened that Joel Barlow had received only one proof-sheet
of the work, which he had compared with the copy and sent it back to
the printing-office.

We then went, in company with Joel Barlow, to my lodging; and
the guard, or commissaires, took with them the interpreter to the
Committee of Surety-General. It was satisfactory to me, that they
went through the examination of my papers with the strictness they
did; and it is but justice that I say, they did it not only with civility,
but with tokens of respect to my character.

I showed them the remainder of the manuscript of the foregoing
work. The interpreter examined it and returned it to me, saying, "It
is an interesting work; it will do much good." I also showed him
another manuscript, which I had intended for the Committee of Public
Safety. It is entitled, "Observations on the Commerce between the
United States of America and France."

After the examination of my papers was finished, the guard
conducted me to the prison of the Luxembourg, where they left me as
they would a man whose undeserved fate they regretted. I offered to
write under the proces-verbal they had made that they had executed
their orders with civility, but they declined it.

THOMAS PAINE.

[_Maksutov]

Part Second

PREFACE TO PART II.

I HAVE mentioned in the former part of the Age of Reason that it
had long been my intention to publish my thoughts upon religion; but
that I had originally reserved it to a later period in life
intending it to be the last work I should undertake. The
circumstances, however, which existed in France in the latter end of
the year 1793, determined me to delay it no longer. The just and
humane principles of the revolution, which philosophy had first
diffused, had been departed from. The idea, always dangerous to
society, as it is derogatory to the Almighty, that priests could
forgive sins, though it seemed to exist no longer, had blunted the
feelings of humanity, and prepared men for the commission of all
manner of crimes. The intolerant spirit of Church persecutions had
transferred itself into politics; the tribunal styled revolutionary,
supplied the place of an inquisition; and the guillotine and the stake
outdid the fire and fagot of the Church. I saw many of my most
intimate friends destroyed, others daily carried to prison, and I
had reason to believe, and had also intimations given me, that the
same danger was approaching myself.

Under these disadvantages, I began the former part of the Age of
Reason; I had, besides, neither Bible nor Testament to refer to,
though I was writing against both; nor could I procure any:
notwithstanding which, I have produced a work that no Bible
believer, though writing at his ease, and with a library of Church
books about him, can refute.

Toward the latter end of December of that year, a motion was
made and carried, to exclude foreigners from the convention. There
were but two in it, Anacharsis Cloots and myself; and I saw I was
particularly pointed at by Bourdon de l'Oise, in his speech on that
motion.

Conceiving, after this, that I had but a few days of liberty, I
sat down and brought the work to a close as speedily as possible;
and I had not finished it more than six hours, in the state it has
since appeared, before a guard came there, about three in the
morning, with an order signed by the two Committees of public Safety
and Surety General for putting me in arrestation as a foreigner, and
conveyed me to the prison of the Luxembourg. I contrived, on my way
there, to call on Joel Barlow, and I put the manuscript of the work into
his hands: as more safe than in my possession in prison; and not
knowing what might be the fate in France either of the writer or the
work, I addressed it to the protection of the citizens of the United
States.

It is with justice that I say that the guard who executed this
order, and the interpreter of the Committee of General Surety who
accompanied them to examine my papers, treated me not only with
civility, but with respect. The keeper of the Luxembourg, Bennoit, a
man of a good heart, showed to me every friendship in his power, as
did also all his family, while he continued in that station. He was
removed from it, put into arrestation, and carried before the tribunal
upon a malignant accusation, but acquitted.

After I had been in the Luxembourg about three weeks, the
Americans then in Paris went in a body to the convention to reclaim
me as their countryman and friend; but were answered by the
President, Vadier, who was also President of the Committee of Surety General,
and had signed the order for my arrestation, that I was born
in England. I heard no more, after this, from any person out of the
walls of the prison till the fall of Robespierre, on the 9th of Thermidor July
27, 1794.

About two months before this event I was seized with a fever, that
in its progress had every symptom of becoming mortal, and from the
effects of which I am not recovered. It was then that I remembered
with renewed satisfaction, and congratulated myself most sincerely, on
having written the former part of the Age of Reason. I had then but
little expectation of surviving, and those about me had less. I
know, therefore, by experience, the conscientious trial of my own
principles.

I was then with three chamber comrades, Joseph Vanhuele, of
Bruges; Charles Bastini, and Michael Rubyns, of Louvain. The
unceasing and anxious attention of these three friends to me, by night
and by day, I remember with gratitude and mention with pleasure. It
happened that a physician (Dr. Graham) and a surgeon (Mr. Bond),
part of the suite of General O'Hara, were then in the Luxembourg. I
ask not myself whether it be convenient to them, as men under the
English government, that I express to them my thanks, but should
reproach myself if I did not; and also to the physician of the
Luxembourg, Dr. Markoski.

I have some reason to believe, because I cannot discover any other
cause, that this illness preserved me in existence. Among the papers
of Robespierre that were examined and reported upon to the
Convention by a Committee of Deputies, is a note in the hand-writing
of Robespierre, in the following words:

"Demander que Thomas Paine soit decrete d'accusation, pour
l'interet de l'Amerique autant que de la France."

To demand that a decree of accusation be passed against Thomas
Paine, for the interest of America, as well as of France.

From what cause it was that the intention was not put in execution
I know not, and cannot inform myself, and therefore I ascribe it to
impossibility, on account of that illness.

The Convention, to repair as much as lay in their power the
injustice I had sustained, invited me publicly and unanimously to
return into the Convention, and which I accepted, to show I could bear
an injury without permitting it to injure my principles or my
disposition. It is not because right principles have been violated
that they are to be abandoned.

I have seen, since I have been at liberty, several publications
written, some in America and some in England, as answers to the
former part of the Age of Reason. If the authors of these can amuse
themselves by so doing, I shall not interrupt them. They may write
against the work, and against me, as much as they please; they do me
more service than they intend, and I can have no objection that they
write on. They will find, however, by this second part, without its
being written as an answer to them, that they must return to their
work, and spin their cobweb over again. The first is brushed away by
accident.

They will now find that I have furnished myself with a Bible and
Testament; and I can say also that I have found them to be much
worse books than I had conceived. If I have erred in anything in the
former part of the Age of Reason, it has been by speaking better of
some parts of those books than they have deserved.

I observe that all my opponents resort, more or less, to what they
call Scripture evidence and Bible authority to help them out. They are
so little masters of the subject, as to confound a dispute about
authenticity with a dispute about doctrines; I will, however, put them
right, that if they should be disposed to write any more, they may
know how to begin.

THOMAS PAINE.

October, 1795

[_Maksutov]

CHAPTER I

As to the Old Testament

IT has often been said, that anything may be proved from the
Bible, but before anything can be admitted as proved by the Bible, the
Bible itself must be proved to be true; for if the Bible be not
true, or the truth of it be doubtful, it ceases to have authority, and
cannot be admitted as proof of anything.

It has been the practice of all Christian commentators on the
Bible, and of all Christian priests and preachers, to impose the Bible
on the world as a mass of truth and as the word of God; they have
disputed and wrangled, and anathematized each other about the
supposed meaning of particular parts and passages therein; one has
said and insisted that such a passage meant such a thing; another that
it meant directly the contrary; and a third, that it meant neither one
nor the other, but something different from both; and this they call
understanding the Bible.

It has happened that all the answers which I have seen to the
former part of the Age of Reason have been written by priests; and
these pious men, like their predecessors, contend and wrangle, and
pretend to understand the Bible; each understands it differently,
but each understands it best; and they have agreed in nothing but in
telling their readers that Thomas Paine understands it not.

Now, instead of wasting their time, and heating themselves in
fractious disputations about doctrinal points drawn from the Bible,
these men ought to know, and if they do not, it is civility to
inform them, that the first thing to be understood is, whether there
is sufficient authority for believing the Bible to be the word of God,
or whether there is not.

There are matters in that book, said to be done by the express
command of God, that are as shocking to humanity and to every idea
we have of moral justice as anything done by Robespierre, by
Carrier, by Joseph le Bon, in France, by the English government in the
East Indies, or by any other assassin in modern times. When we read
in the books ascribed to Moses, Joshua, etc., that they (the
Israelites) came by stealth upon whole nations of people, who, as
history itself shows, had given them no offence; that they put all
those nations to the sword; that they spared neither age nor
infancy; that they utterly destroyed men, women, and children; that
they left not a soul to breathe- expressions that are repeated over
and over again in those books, and that, too, with exulting ferocityare
we sure these things are facts? are we sure that the Creator of
man commissioned these things to be done? and are we sure that the
books that tell us so were written by his authority?

It is not the antiquity of a tale that is any evidence of its
truth; on the contrary, it is a symptom of its being fabulous; for the
more ancient any history pretends to be, the more it has the
resemblance of a fable. The origin of every nation is buried in
fabulous tradition, and that of the Jews is as much to be suspected as
any other. To charge the commission of acts upon the Almighty,
which, in their own nature, and by every rule of moral justice, are
crimes, as all assassination is, and more especially the assassination
of infants, is matter of serious concern. The Bible tells us, that
those assassinations were done by the express command of God. To
believe, therefore, the Bible to be true, we must unbelieve all our
belief in the moral justice of God; for wherein could crying or
smiling infants offend? And to read the Bible without horror, we
must undo everything that is tender, sympathizing, and benevolent in
the heart of man. Speaking for myself, if I had no other evidence that
the Bible is fabulous than the sacrifice I must make to believe it
to be true, that alone would be sufficient to determine my choice.

But in addition to all the moral evidence against the Bible, I
will in the progress of this work produce such other evidence as
even a priest cannot deny, and show, from that evidence, that the
Bible is not entitled to credit as being the word of God.

But, before I proceed to this examination, I will show wherein the
Bible differs from all other ancient writings with respect to the
nature of the evidence necessary to establish its authenticity; and
this is the more proper to be done, because the advocates of the
Bible, in their answers to the former part of the Age of Reason,
undertake to say, and they put some stress thereon, that the
authenticity of the Bible is as well established as that of any
other ancient book; as if our belief of the one could become any
rule for our belief of the other.

I know, however, but of one ancient book that authoritatively
challenges universal consent and belief, and that is Euclid's Elements
of Geometry;* and the reason is, because it is a book of
self-evident demonstration, entirely independent of its author, and of
everything relating to time, place, and circumstance. The matters
contained in that book would have the same authority they now have,
had they been written by any other person, or had the work been
anonymous, or had the author never been known; for the identical
certainty of who was the author, makes no part of our belief of the
matters contained in the book. But it is quite otherwise with
respect to the books ascribed to Moses, to Joshua, to Samuel, etc.;
those are books of testimony, and they testify of things naturally
incredible; and therefore, the whole of our belief as to the
authenticity of those books rests, in the first place, upon the
certainty that they were written by Moses, Joshua, and Samuel;
secondly upon the credit we give to their testimony. We may believe
the first, that is, we may believe the certainty of the authorship,
and yet not the testimony; in the same manner that we may believe
that a certain person gave evidence upon a case and yet not believe
the evidence that he gave. But if it should be found that the books
ascribed to Moses, Joshua, and Samuel, were not written by Moses,
Joshua, and Samuel, every part of the authority and authenticity of
those books is gone at once; for there can be no such thing as
forged or invented testimony; neither can there be anonymous
testimony, more especially as to things naturally incredible, such
as that of talking with God face to face, or that of the sun and
moon standing still at the command of a man. The greatest part of
the other ancient books are works of genius; of which kind are those
ascribed to Homer, to Plato, to Aristotle, to Demosthenes, to
Cicero, etc. Here, again, the author is not essential in the credit we
give to any of those works, for, as works of genius, they would have
the same merit they have now, were they anonymous. Nobody
believes the Trojan story, as related by Homer, to be true- for it is the
poet only that is admired, and the merit of the poet will remain,
though the story be fabulous. But if we disbelieve the matters related
by the Bible authors, (Moses for instance), as we disbelieve the things
related by Homer, there remains nothing of Moses in our estimation,
but an impostor. As to the ancient historians, from Herodotus to
Tacitus, we credit them as far as they relate things probable and
credible, and no farther; for if we do, we must believe the two
miracles which Tacitus relates were performed by Vespasian, that of
curing a lame man and a blind man, in just the same manner as the
same things are told of Jesus Christ by his historians. We must also
believe the miracle cited by Josephus, that of the sea of Pamphilia
opening to let Alexander and his army pass, as is related of the Red
Sea in Exodus. These miracles are quite as well authenticated as the
Bible miracles, and yet we do not believe them; consequently the
degree of evidence necessary to establish our belief of things
naturally incredible, whether in the Bible or elsewhere, is far
greater than that which obtains our belief to natural and probable
things; and therefore the advocates for the Bible have no claim to our
belief of the Bible, because that we believe things stated in other
ancient writings; since we believe the things stated in these writings
no further than they are probable and credible, or because they are
self-evident, like Euclid; or admire them because they are elegant,
like Homer; or approve of them because they are sedate, like Plato
or judicious, like Aristotle.

*Euclid, according to chronological history, lived three hundred
years before Christ, and about one hundred before Archimedes; he
was of the city of Alexandria, in Egypt.

Having premised these things, I proceed to examine the
authenticity of the Bible, and I begin with what are called the five
books of Moses, Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and
Deuteronomy. My intention is to show that those books are spurious,
and that Moses is not the author of them; and still further, that they
were not written in the time of Moses, nor till several hundred
years afterward; that they are no other than an attempted history of
the life of Moses, and of the times in which he is said to have lived,
and also of the times prior thereto, written by some very ignorant and
stupid pretenders to authorship, several hundred years after the death
of Moses, as men now write histories of things that happened, or are
supposed to have happened, several hundred or several thousand
years ago.

[_Fence Sitter]

More reason please.

[_Gunnar]

I wonder if LittleNipper is reading this thread. I would guess not.