Letter to Andrew Dean
Thomas Paine's letter to Andrew Dean, from New York, August 15, 1806.
by Thomas Paine
espected Friend: I received your friendly letter, for which I am obliged to you. It is three weeks ago to-day (Sunday, August fifteenth), that I was struck with a fit of an apoplexy that deprived me of all sense and motion. I had neither pulse nor breathing, and the people about me supposed me dead. I had felt exceedingly well that day, and had just taken a slice of bread and butter for supper, and was going to bed. The fit took me on the stairs, as suddenly as if I had been shot through the head; and I got so very much hurt by the fall, that I have not been able to get in and out of bed since that day, otherwise than being lifted out in a blanket, by two persons; yet all this while my mental faculties have remained as perfect as I ever enjoyed them. I consider the scene I have passed through as an experiment on dying, and I find that death has no terrors for me. As to the people called Christians, they have no evidence that their religion is true. There is no more proof that the Bible is the Word of God, than that the Koran of Mahomet is the Word of God. It is education makes all the difference. Man, before he begins to think for himself, is as much the child of habit in Creeds as he is in ploughing and sowing. Yet creeds, like opinions, prove nothing.
Where is the evidence that the person called Jesus Christ is the begotten Son of God? The case admits not of evidence either to our senses or our mental faculties: neither has God given to man any talent by which such a thing is comprehensible.
It cannot therefore be an object for faith to act upon, for faith is nothing more than an assent the mind gives to something it sees cause to believe is fact. But priests, preachers, and fanatics, put imagination in the place of faith, and it is the nature of the imagination to believe without evidence.
If Joseph the carpenter dreamed, (as the book of Matthew chap. 1st says he did), that his betrothed wife, Mary, was with child by the Holy Ghost, and that an angel told him so, I am not obliged to put faith in his dreams; nor do I put any, for I put no faith in my own dreams, and I should be weak and foolish indeed to put faith in the dreams of others.
The Christian religion is derogatory to the Creator in all its articles. It puts the Creator in an inferior point of view, and places the Christian Devil above him. It is he, according to the absurd story in Genesis, that outwits the Creator in the garden of Eden, and steals from Him His favorite creature, man, and at last obliges Him to beget a son, and put that son to death, to get man back again; and this the priests of the Christian religion call redemption.
Christian authors exclaim against the practice of offering up human sacrifices, which, they say, is done in some countries; and those authors make those exclamations without ever reflecting that their own doctrine of salvation is founded on a human sacrifice. They are saved, they say, by the blood of Christ. The Christian religion begins with a dream and ends with a murder.
As I am now well enough to sit up some hours in the day, though not well enough to get up without help, I employ myself as I have always done, in endeavoring to bring man to the right use of the reason that God has given him, and to direct his mind immediately to his Creator, and not to fanciful secondary beings called mediators, as if God was superannuated or ferocious.
As to the book called the Bible, it is blasphemy to call it the Word of God. It is a book of lies and contradictions, and a history of bad times and bad men. There are but a few good characters in the whole book. The fable of Christ and his twelve apostles, which is a parody on the sun and the twelve signs of the zodiac, copied from the ancient religions of the eastern world, is the least hurtful part. Everything told of Christ has reference to the sun. His reported resurrection is at sunrise, and that on the first day of the week; that is, on the day anciently dedicated to the sun, and from thence called Sunday in Latin Dies Solis, the day of the sun; as the next day, Monday, is Moon-day. But there is no room in a letter to explain these things.
While man keeps to the belief of one God, his reason unites with his creed. He is not shocked with contradictions and horrid stories. His Bible is the heavens and the earth. He beholds his Creator in all His works, and everything he beholds inspires him with reverence and gratitude. From the goodness of God to all, he learns his duty to his fellowman, and stands self-reproved when he transgresses it. Such a man is no persecutor.
But when he multiplies his creed with imaginary things, of which he can have neither evidence nor conception, such as the tale of the garden of Eden, the Talking Serpent, the Fall of Man, the Dreams of Joseph the Carpenter, the pretended Resurrection and Ascension, of which there is even no historical relation for no historian of those times mentions such a thing he gets into the pathless region of confusion, and turns either fanatic or hypocrite. He forces his mind, and pretends to believe what he does not believe. This is in general the case with the Methodists. Their religion is all creed and no morals.
I have now, my friend, given you a facsimile of my mind on the subject of religions and creeds, and my wish is that you make this letter as publicly known as you find opportunities of doing.
I am glad to hear that Thomas is a good boy. It will always give me pleasure to know that he goes on well. You say that he begins to want a pair of trousers, shirt and a hat. You can take the horse and chair and take Thomas with you and go to the store and get him some strong stuff for a pair of trousers, hempen linnen for two shirts, and a hat. He shall not want for anything if he be a good boy and learn no bad words.
I have taken lodgings at Corlears Hook but I am not well enough to be removed, yet I continue tolerably well in health. What I suffer is pain and want of strength occasioned by the fall I got by the fit and fall, for I find I went headlong over the bannisters as suddenly as I had been shot through the head.
You speak of coming to N[ew] York. When you come take Thomas with you. You can come with the horse and chair. If I am not at Carver's he will tell you where I am. When you go to the store, go on to the landing and read this letter to Mr. Deltor. When you see Mr. Somerville present my respects. You and Thomas might take a walk there some Saturday afternoon, and call at Mr. Jonathan Wards. Take the letter with you.
Yours in friendship,
( Thomas Paine, letter to Andrew Dean, 1806; from Philip S. Foner, ed., The Complete Writings of Thomas Paine, vol. II, New York: The Citadel Press, 1969, pp. 1483-1485. )
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