1800
livres salary which I know not how to get while I am here, nor do I know
how to draw for money on the rent of my farm in America. It is under
the care of my good friend General Lewis Morris. I have received no rent
since I have been in Europe.

[Addressed] Minister Plenipotentiary from America, Maison des Etrangers,
Rue de la Loi, Rue Richelieu.

Such was the sufficiently cruel situation when there reached Paine in
prison, September 4th, the letter of Peter Whiteside which caused him
to write his Memorial. Whiteside was a Philadelphian whose bankruptcy in
London had swallowed up some of Paine's means. His letter, reporting to
Paine that he was not regarded by the American Government or people as
an American citizen, and that no American Minister could interfere in
his behalf, was evidently inspired by Morris who was still in Paris, the
authorities being unwilling to give him a passport to Switzerland,
as they knew he was going in that direction to join the conspirators
against France. This Whiteside letter put Paine, and through him Monroe,
on a false scent by suggesting that the difficulty of his case lay in a
_bona fide_ question of citizenship, whereas there never had been really
any such question. The knot by which Morris had bound Paine was thus
concealed, and Monroe was appealing to polite wolves in the interest of
their victim. There were thus more delays, inexplicable alike to Monroe
and to Paine, eliciting from the latter some heartbroken letters, not
hitherto printed, which I add at the end of the Memorial. To add to
the difficulties and dangers, Paris was beginning to be agitated by
well-founded rumors of Jay's injurious negotiations in England, and a
coldness towards Monroe was setting in. Had Paine's release been delayed
much longer an American Minister's friendship might even have proved
fatal. Of all this nothing could be known to Paine, who suffered agonies
he had not known during the Reign of Terror. The other prisoners of
Robespierre's time had departed; he alone paced the solitary corridors
of the Luxembourg, chilled by the autumn winds, his cell tireless, unlit
by any candle, insufficiently nourished, an abscess forming in his side;
all this still less cruel than the feeling that he was abandoned, not
only by Washington but by all America.

This is the man of whom Washington wrote to Madison nine years before:
"Must the merits and services of 'Common Sense' continue to glide down
the strea