Part II: Appendix

Because publication of this work has been delayed beyond the intended date, I think it proper, in view of all the circumstances, to explain what caused the delay.

The reader will probably notice that parts of the plan in this work for reducing taxes so closely resemble parts of Mr. Pitt's speech opening the present session, on Tuesday, January 31, as to suggest that either I took my cue from Mr. Pitt or he took his from me. I shall first identify the similarities, then set out the circumstances known to me, leaving the reader to draw his own conclusion.

A proposal to remove taxes is almost without precedent; that two people should think of doing so at the same time is equally extraordinary. More extraordinary still, given the immense number and variety of taxes, is that they should choose the very same ones. In his speech Mr. Pitt named the tax on carts and wagons, the tax on female servants, a reduction in the tax on candles, and the removal of the three-shilling tax on houses with fewer than seven windows.

Every one of those taxes is included among those proposed for removal in this work. Mr. Pitt's plan, it is true, goes no further than a reduction of three hundred and twenty thousand pounds, whereas this work proposes nearly six millions. I based my calculations on a revenue of only sixteen millions and a half, while maintaining that it was "very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions." Mr. Pitt puts it at 16,690,000. I know enough about the matter to say that he has not overstated it. Having identified the points on which his speech and this work agree, I shall now relate a chain of circumstances that may explain the agreement.

The first suggestion that taxes should be reduced as a consequence of the French Revolution appears in the Address and Declaration of the Gentlemen who met at the Thatched-House Tavern on August 20, 1791. Among its many points was this question addressed to the government's opponents of the French Revolution: "Are they sorry that the pretense for new oppressive taxes, and the occasion for continuing many old taxes, will be at an end?"

It is well known that the Thatched-House Tavern is chiefly frequented by men with connections at court. So distasteful did they find this Address and Declaration concerning the French Revolution and tax reduction that the landlord had to tell the gentlemen who held the meeting on the 20th of August, and proposed to hold another, that he could not accommodate them.*41

What the Address and Declaration merely suggested about taxes and principles of government is developed into a regular system in this work. But since Mr. Pitt's speech includes some of the same proposals on taxes, I now turn to the circumstances I mentioned earlier.

Here is what happened. This work was intended to appear just before Parliament met. To that end, a substantial part of the copy was delivered to the printer in September. All the remaining copy, including the part resembling Mr. Pitt's speech, was delivered a full six weeks before Parliament met, and the printer was told when the work was to appear. He had set nearly all of it about a fortnight before Parliament met and had given me a proof of the next sheet. The work was far enough advanced to appear as planned, since two more sheets were ready to be printed. I had previously told him that, if time pressed, I could have part of the work printed at another press; he asked me not to. Such was the state of the work on the Tuesday a fortnight before Parliament met. Then, without any warning, although I had been with him the evening before, he sent back all the remaining copy by one of his workmen and refused to continue the work on any terms.

I could not account for this extraordinary conduct. He had stopped just where the arguments about systems and principles of government ended and the plan for reducing taxes, educating children, and supporting the poor and aged began. It was more perplexing because, when he first began printing, before he had seen the entire copy, he had offered a thousand pounds for its copyright, together with the future copyright of the first part of Rights of Man. I told the man who conveyed this offer that I would not accept it and did not want it repeated. My reason was this: although I believed the printer an honest man, I would never give a printer or publisher power to suppress or alter a work of mine by making him the owner of the copy, nor give him the right to sell it to a minister or anyone else, nor allow him to treat as mere merchandise what I intended to put forward as a principle.

His refusal to finish a work he could not purchase forced me to find another printer. The publication was therefore bound to be delayed until after Parliament met; otherwise, it would have been clear that Mr. Pitt had adopted only part of the plan I had set out more fully.

I have no authority to say whether that gentleman, or anyone else, saw the work or any part of it. But the way it was returned, the precise time of its return, and the offers the printer had previously made are suspicious circumstances. I know what booksellers and publishers think of such a case, but choose not to declare my own opinion. There are many ways for others to obtain proof sheets before a work appears in public. To this I add one particular circumstance:

A ministerial bookseller in Piccadilly has, according to common report, been employed by a clerk of a board closely tied to the ministry—the board of trade and plantation, of which Hawkesbury is president—to publish what he calls my Life. I wish his own life and the lives of the cabinet members were as good as mine. He used to have his books printed at the same office I employed; but when the first part of Rights of Man appeared, he removed his work in anger. About a week or ten days before the printer returned my copy, however, he offered him his work again, and the printer accepted. He thus gained access to the printing office where the sheets of this work then lay; and since booksellers and printers deal freely with one another, he would have had a chance to see what was being done. Whatever the truth of the matter, Mr. Pitt's plan, small and stunted as it is, would have looked very awkward if this work had appeared when the printer had promised to finish it.

I have now described the circumstances behind the delay, from the offer to buy the work to the refusal to print it. If all the gentlemen are innocent, it is very unfortunate for them that so many suspicious circumstances should have arranged themselves together without design.

Having finished this account, I shall close by mentioning another circumstance.

About a fortnight or three weeks before Parliament met, a small addition of about twelve shillings and sixpence a year was made to soldiers' pay—or, rather, their pay was docked by that much less. Some gentlemen who knew, in part, that this work would propose reforms concerning the oppressed condition of soldiers wanted me to add a note stating that the passage on that subject had been in the printer's hands for several weeks before the pay increase was proposed. I declined, for fear of appearing vain or of stirring suspicion, perhaps without grounds, that some gentlemen in the government had somehow learned what this work would contain. Indeed, had printing not been interrupted and publication delayed past its appointed date, nothing in this appendix would have appeared.

Thomas Paine

This work has come out later than I planned. Given the circumstances, I think I should explain why it was delayed.

Readers may notice that parts of my plan to cut taxes look very much like parts of Mr. Pitt's speech at the opening of the present session on Tuesday, January 31. They might think that I got the idea from Mr. Pitt, or that he got it from me. I will first identify the similarities. Then I will tell you the circumstances I know about and leave you to draw your own conclusion.

It is almost unheard of to propose removing taxes, so it is remarkable that two people would think of doing it at the same time. It is even more remarkable that, out of so many different taxes, they would choose the same ones. In his speech, Mr. Pitt mentioned the taxes on carts and wagons and on female servants. He also proposed reducing the tax on candles and removing the three-shilling tax on houses with fewer than seven windows.

Every one of these taxes appears in my plan as a tax to remove. Mr. Pitt's plan, however, cuts taxes by only three hundred and twenty thousand pounds. My plan cuts them by nearly six millions. I based my calculations on revenue of only sixteen and a half millions, though I maintained that the actual figure was "very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions." Mr. Pitt puts it at 16,690,000. I know enough about the matter to say he has not overstated it. Now that I have identified the similarities between his speech and this work, I will lay out a sequence of events that may help explain them.

The first suggestion that taxes could be reduced as a result of the French Revolution appeared in the Address and Declaration of the Gentlemen who met at the Thatched-House Tavern on August 20, 1791. Among its many points, the Address put this question to the government's opponents of the French Revolution: "Are they sorry that the excuse for new oppressive taxes, and the reason for keeping many old taxes, will come to an end?"

The people who usually go to the Thatched-House Tavern are known to have court connections. They were so offended by this Address and Declaration about the French Revolution and lower taxes that the landlord had to tell the gentlemen who had met on August 20, and who wanted to meet again, that he could not receive them.*41

This work develops into a systematic plan what the Address and Declaration merely suggested about taxes and the principles of government. But Mr. Pitt's speech says some of the same things about taxes. I will now give the circumstances I mentioned earlier.

Here is what happened. I intended to publish this work just before Parliament met. To that end I gave the printer a substantial part of the manuscript in September. I gave him all the rest, including the part resembling Mr. Pitt's speech, a full six weeks before Parliament met. I also told him when the work was due to appear. About two weeks before Parliament met, he had set nearly all of it in type and had given me a proof of the next sheet. The work was far enough along to come out on schedule: two more sheets were ready to be printed. Earlier I had told him that, if he feared he would run short of time, I could have part of the work printed elsewhere. He asked me not to. That was the situation on the Tuesday two weeks before Parliament met. Then, without any warning, although I had seen him the previous evening, he sent one of his workers to return all the remaining manuscript. He refused to continue the work under any circumstances.

I had no idea how to account for this strange behavior. He stopped just where my discussion of systems and principles of government ended and my plan began for cutting taxes, educating children, and supporting poor and elderly people. It was all the more puzzling because, when he first began printing, and before he had seen the entire manuscript, he had offered a thousand pounds for the copyright, along with the future copyright to the first part of Rights of Man. I told the person who brought me that offer that I would not accept it and did not want it repeated. I explained that, although I believed the printer was an honest man, I would never let a printer or publisher own my manuscript and thereby gain the power to suppress or change my work. Nor would I give him the right to sell it to a minister or anyone else. I intended the work to advance a principle, not to become a mere item for trade.

Because he refused to finish a work he could not buy, I had to find another printer. That necessarily postponed publication until after Parliament met. Otherwise people would have seen that Mr. Pitt had adopted only part of a plan I had set out more fully.

I cannot say with certainty whether Mr. Pitt, or anyone else, had seen this work or any part of it. But the way the printer returned it, the precise time he did so, and the offers he had made earlier are suspicious. I know what booksellers and publishers think of such a case, but I choose not to state my own opinion. There are many ways for someone to get proof sheets before a work is published. I will add one particular circumstance:

A bookseller in Piccadilly with ties to the ministry has published what he calls my Life. According to common report, he was employed to do so by a clerk of a government board closely connected with the ministry: the board of trade and plantation, whose president is Hawkesbury. I wish this bookseller's own life and the lives of the cabinet members were as good as mine. He used to have his books printed at the same office I used. But when the first part of Rights of Man came out, he angrily took his work elsewhere. About a week or ten days before the printer returned my manuscript, he came back and offered the printer his business again. The printer accepted. This gave the bookseller access to the printing office, where the sheets of this work were lying. Since booksellers and printers deal openly with each other, he would have had a chance to see what was going on. Whatever happened, Mr. Pitt's plan, small and inadequate as it is, would have looked very awkward if my work had come out when the printer had promised to finish it.

I have now described what delayed the work, from the offer to buy it to the refusal to print it. If all these gentlemen are innocent, it is very unfortunate for them that so many suspicious circumstances happened to come together without anyone planning it.

I will finish by describing one more circumstance.

About two or three weeks before Parliament met, soldiers received a small increase in pay of about twelve shillings and sixpence a year—or, more precisely, their pay was docked by that much less. Some gentlemen knew that this work would include a plan to reform the soldiers' oppressed condition. They wanted me to add a note saying that the section on soldiers had been with the printer for several weeks before the increase was proposed. I refused. Such a note might look like vanity or like an attempt to stir up suspicion, perhaps without cause, that some members of the government had somehow found out what my work would say. If printing had not been interrupted and publication delayed past the intended date, nothing in this appendix would have appeared.

Thomas Paine