Preface to the English Edition

From Mr. Burke's part in the American Revolution, I naturally regarded him as a friend of humanity; and since our acquaintance began on that basis, I would have preferred to have reason to keep that opinion rather than change it.

When Mr. Burke delivered his vehement speech last winter in the English Parliament against the French Revolution and the National Assembly, I was in Paris. Only shortly before, I had written to tell him how well affairs were progressing. Soon afterward I saw his advertisement for the pamphlet he meant to publish. Since the attack would be made in a language little studied and still less understood in France, and since everything suffers in translation, I promised some friends of the Revolution there that I would answer Mr. Burke's pamphlet when it appeared. The glaring misrepresentations I found in it made an answer still more necessary: besides being an outrageous assault on the French Revolution and the principles of liberty, it deceives the rest of the world.

Mr. Burke's conduct astonishes and disappoints me all the more because, for the reasons I am about to give, I had expected something else of him.

I had seen enough of the misery of war to wish it might vanish from the world, and that nations might find another way to settle the differences that occasionally arise between neighbors. They certainly could, if courts were willing to act honestly or countries were enlightened enough to refuse to be duped by courts. Americans had grown up with the same prejudices against France that then characterized the English people. But experience and acquaintance with the French nation have thoroughly shown Americans how false those prejudices were; and I doubt that any two countries enjoy a more cordial and trusting relationship than America and France.

When I came to France in the spring of 1787, the Archbishop of Thoulouse was minister and was then highly esteemed. I became well acquainted with his private secretary, a man of generous and benevolent heart, and found that we agreed entirely about the madness of war and the wretched folly of two nations like England and France continually harassing each other, with no result but greater burdens and taxes for both. To make certain that neither of us had misunderstood the other, I wrote down the substance of our views and sent it to him. I added a question: if I should find among the English people a wish for better relations between the two nations than had prevailed until then, to what extent could I say that France felt the same way? He answered me by letter without reservation, speaking not only for himself but for the minister, with whose knowledge, he declared, the letter was written.

Almost three years ago I placed this letter in Mr. Burke's hands and left it with him; it is still there. From the opinion I had formed of him, I hoped—and naturally expected—that he would find an opportunity to use it well, to dispel the errors and prejudices that two neighboring nations had harbored, to the harm of both, for want of knowing each other.

When the French Revolution began, Mr. Burke certainly had an opportunity to do good, had he wished to. Instead, as soon as he saw the old prejudices fading, he began at once to sow the seeds of fresh hostility, as though he feared England and France might cease to be enemies. It is as shocking as it is true that in every country some men make their living from war and from keeping nations at odds. But when those entrusted with a country's government devote themselves to sowing discord and cultivating prejudice between nations, their conduct is even less pardonable.

As for the passage in this work that alludes to Mr. Burke's having a pension, the report has circulated for some time—at least two months. Since people are often the last to hear what they most need to know about themselves, I have mentioned it so that Mr. Burke may contradict the rumor, if he chooses.

Thomas Paine

Because Mr. Burke supported the American Revolution, I naturally thought he was a friend of humanity. That was how we came to know each other. I would have preferred to have reason to keep thinking so, rather than change my mind.

Last winter, Mr. Burke made a fierce speech in the English Parliament against the French Revolution and the National Assembly. I was in Paris at the time. Not long before, I had written to tell him how well things were going. Soon afterward, I saw his advertisement for the pamphlet he planned to publish. His attack would be in a language that few people in France studied and fewer understood. And translation always loses something. So I promised some friends of the Revolution there that I would answer Mr. Burke's pamphlet when it appeared. When I saw the blatant distortions it contained, an answer seemed even more necessary. The pamphlet viciously attacks the French Revolution and the principles of liberty, and it misleads the rest of the world.

Mr. Burke's conduct surprises and disappoints me all the more because the circumstances I am about to describe had led me to expect something different from him.

I had seen enough of the misery caused by war to wish it would disappear from the world forever. I hoped nations could find another way to settle their occasional disputes. They certainly could, if courts of government would deal honestly, or if countries knew enough not to let those courts fool them. Americans had grown up with the same prejudices against France that the English had at the time. But experience and contact with the French nation have shown Americans how false those prejudices were. I doubt any two countries now have a warmer or more trusting relationship than America and France.

When I arrived in France in the spring of 1787, the Archbishop of Thoulouse was the minister and was highly regarded. I came to know his private secretary well. He was a generous man with a broad outlook. We agreed completely about the madness of war and the terrible folly of two nations like England and France constantly fighting. The only result was more burdens and taxes for both. To make sure neither of us had misunderstood the other, I wrote down the substance of our views and sent it to him. I added a question: if I found people in England willing to build a better understanding between the two nations than they had enjoyed before, could I say that France felt the same way, and how firmly? He answered openly in a letter. He spoke not only for himself but for the minister, who, he said, knew he was writing it.

Almost three years ago I gave this letter to Mr. Burke. I left it with him, and he still has it. Given my opinion of him, I hoped and naturally expected he would find a way to use it well. It could help remove the mistaken beliefs and prejudices that two neighboring nations had developed because they did not know each other, to the harm of both.

The French Revolution certainly gave Mr. Burke a chance to do some good, if he had wanted to. Instead, the moment he saw old prejudices fading, he began planting new hostility. It was as though he feared England and France might stop being enemies. It is shocking but true that some people in every country make their living from war and from keeping nations at odds. But when people involved in governing a country deliberately create conflict and encourage prejudice between nations, it is even harder to forgive.

One paragraph in this work refers to a report that Mr. Burke has a pension. That report has been circulating for some time, at least two months. People are often the last to hear what they most need to know about themselves. I mention the report so Mr. Burke can deny the rumor if he wishes.

Thomas Paine