Lectures of Col. R.G. Ingersoll | Page 5

have voted to put Louis Capet upon trial, because it was necessary to
prove to the world the perfidy, the corruption, and the horror of the
monarchical system.
To follow the trade of a king destroys all morality, just as the trade of a
jailer deadens all sensibility.
Make a man a king today and tomorrow he will be a brigand.
Had Louis Capet been a farmer, he might have been held in esteem by
his neighbors, and his wickedness results from his position rather than
from his nature.
Let the French nation purge its territory of kings without soiling itself
with their impure blood.
Let the United States be the asylum of Louis Capet, where, in spite of
the overshadowing miseries and crimes of a royal life, he will learn by
the continual contemplation of the general prosperity that the true
system of government is not that of kings, but of the people.
I am an enemy of kings, but I can not forget that they belong to the

human race.
It is always delightful to pursue that course where policy and humanity
are united.
As France has been the first of all the nations of Europe to destroy
royalty, let it be the first to abolish the penalty of death.
As a true republican, I consider kings as more the objects of contempt
than of vengeance."
Search the records of the world and you will find but few sublimer acts
than that of Thomas Paine voting against the king's death. He, the hater
of despotism, the abhorer of monarchy, the champion of the rights of
man, the republican, accepting death to save the life of a deposed
tyrant--of a throneless king! This was the last grand act of his political
life--the sublime conclusion of his political career.
All his life he had been the disinterested friend of man. He had labored
not for money, not for fame, but for the general good. He had aspired to
no office. He had no recognition of his services, but had ever been
content to labor as a common soldier in the army of progress, confining
his efforts to no country, looking upon the world as his field of action.
Filled with a genuine love for the right, he found himself imprisoned by
the very people he had striven to save.
Had his enemies succeeded in bringing him to the block, he would have
escaped the calumnies and the hatred of the Christian world. And let
me tell you how neat they came getting him to the block. He was in
prison, there was a door to his cell--it had two doors, a door that opened
in and an iron door that opened out. It was a dark passage, and
whenever they concluded to cut a man's head off the next day, an agent
went along and made a chalk mark upon the door where the poor
prisoner was bound. Mr. Barlow, the American minister, happened to
be with him and the outer door was shut, that is, open against the wall,
and the inner door was shut, and when the man came along whose
business it was to mark the door for death, he marked this door where
Thomas Paine was, but he marked the door that was against the wall, so
when it was shut the mark was inside, and the messenger of death
passed by on the next day. If that had happened in favor of some
Methodist preacher, they would have clearly seen, not simply the hand
of God, but both hands. In this country, at least, he would have ranked
with the proudest names. On the anniversary of the Declaration, his

name would have been upon the lips of all orators, and his memory in
the hearts of all the people.
Thomas Paine had not finished his career. He had spent his life thus far
in destroying the power of kings, and now turned his attention to the
priests. He knew that every abuse had been embalmed in scripture--
that every outrage was in partnership with some holy text. He knew
that the throne skulked behind the altar, and both behind a pretended
revelation of God. By this time he had found that it was of little use to
free the body and leave the mind in chains. He had explored the
foundations of despotism, and had found them infinitely rotten. He had
dug under the throne, and it occurred to him that he would take a look
behind the altar. The result of this investigation was given to the world
in the "Age of Reason." From the moment of its publication he became
infamous. He was calumniated beyond measure. To slander him was to
secure the thanks of the church. All his services were instantly
forgotten, disparaged, or