Book: The Works of Robert Ingersoll - Part II of V

MORALITY AND IMMORTALITY.

Question. I see that the clergy are still making all kinds of charges against you and your doctrines.

Answer. Yes. Some of the charges are true and some of them are not. I suppose that they intend to get in the vicinity of veracity, and are probably stating my belief as it is honestly misunderstood by them. I admit that I have said and that I still think that Christianity is a blunder. But the question arises, What is Christianity? I do not mean, when I say that Christianity is a blunder, that the morality taught by Christians is a mistake. Morality is not distinctively Christian, any more than it is Mohammedan. Morality is human, it belongs to no ism, and does not depend for a foundation upon the supernatural, or upon any book, or upon any creed. Morality is itself a foundation. When I say that Christianity is a blunder, I mean all those things distinctively Christian are blunders. It is a blunder to say that an infinite being lived in Palestine, learned the carpenter's trade, raised the dead, cured the blind, and cast out devils, and that this God was finally assassinated by the Jews. This is absurd. All these statements are blunders, if not worse. I do not believe that Christ ever claimed that he was of supernatural origin, or that he wrought miracles, or that he would rise from the dead. If he did, he was mistaken—honestly mistaken, perhaps, but still mistaken.

The morality inculcated by Mohammed is good. The immorality inculcated by Mohammed is bad. If Mohammed was a prophet of God, it does not make the morality he taught any better, neither does it make the immorality any better or any worse.

By this time the whole world ought to know that morality does not need to go into partnership with miracles. Morality is based upon the experience of mankind. It does not have to learn of inspired writers, or of gods, or of divine persons. It is a lesson that the whole human race has been learning and learning from experience. He who upholds, or believes in, or teaches, the miraculous, commits a blunder.

Now, what is morality? Morality is the best thing to do under the circumstances. Anything that tends to the happiness of mankind is moral. Anything that tends to unhappiness is immoral. We apply to the moral world rules and regulations as we do in the physical world. The man who does justice, or tries to do so—who is honest and kind and gives to others what he claims for himself, is a moral man. All actions must be judged by their consequences. Where the consequences are good, the actions are good. Where the consequences are bad, the actions are bad; and all consequences are learned from experience. After we have had a certain amount of experience, we then reason from analogy. We apply our logic and say that a certain course will bring destruction, another course will bring happiness. There is nothing inspired about morality—nothing supernatural. It is simply good, common sense, going hand in hand with kindness.

Morality is capable of being demonstrated. You do not have to take the word of anybody; you can observe and examine for yourself. Larceny is the enemy of industry, and industry is good; therefore larceny is immoral. The family is the unit of good government; anything that tends to destroy the family is immoral. Honesty is the mother of confidence; it united, combines and solidifies society. Dishonesty is disintegration; it destroys confidence; it brings social chaos; it is therefore immoral.

I also admit that I regard the Mosaic account of the creation as an absurdity—as a series of blunders. Probably Moses did the best he could. He had never talked with Humboldt or Laplace. He knew nothing of geology or astronomy. He had not the slightest suspicion of Kepler's Three Laws. He never saw a copy of Newton's Principia. Taking all these things into consideration, I think Moses did the best he could.

The religious people say now that "days" did not mean days. Of these "six days" they make a kind of telescope, which you can push in or draw out at pleasure. If the geologists find that more time was necessary they will stretch them out. Should it turn out that the world is not quite as old as some think, they will push them up. The "six days" can now be made to suit any period of time. Nothing can be more childish, frivolous or contradictory.

Only a few years ago the Mosaic account was considered true, and Moses was regarded as a scientific authority. Geology and astronomy were measured by the Mosaic standard. The opposite is now true. The church has changed; and instead of trying to prove that modern astronomy and geology are false, because they do not agree with Moses, it is now endeavoring to prove that the account by Moses is true, because it agrees with modern astronomy and geology. In other words, the standard has changed; the ancient is measured by the modern, and where the literal statement in the Bible does not agree with modern discoveries, they do not change the discoveries, but give new meanings to the old account. We are not now endeavoring to reconcile science with the Bible, but to reconcile the Bible with science.

Nothing shows the extent of modern doubt more than the eagerness with which Christians search for some new testimony. Luther answered Copernicus with a passage of Scripture, and he answered him to the satisfaction of orthodox ignorance.

The truth is that the Jews adopted the stories of Creation, the Garden of Eden, Forbidden Fruit, and the Fall of Man. They were told by older barbarians than they, and the Jews gave them to us.

I never said that the Bible is all bad. I have always admitted that there are many good and splendid things in the Jewish Scriptures, and many bad things. What I insist is that we should have the courage and the common sense to accept the good, and throw away the bad. Evil is not good because found in good company, and truth is still truth, even when surrounded by falsehood.

Question. I see that you are frequently charged with disrespect toward your parents—with lack of reverence for the opinions of your father?

Answer. I think my father and mother upon several religious questions were mistaken. In fact, I have no doubt that they were; but I never felt under the slightest obligation to defend my father's mistakes. No one can defend what he thinks is a mistake, without being dishonest. That is a poor way to show respect for parents. Every Protestant clergyman asks men and women who had Catholic parents to desert the church in which they were raised. They have no hesitation in saying to these people that their fathers and mothers were mistaken, and that they were deceived by priests and popes.

The probability is that we are all mistaken about almost everything; but it is impossible for a man to be respectable enough to make a mistake respectable. There is nothing remarkably holy in a blunder, or praiseworthy in stubbing the toe of the mind against a mistake. Is it possible that logic stands paralyzed in the presence of paternal absurdity? Suppose a man has a bad father; is he bound by the bad father's opinion, when he is satisfied that the opinion is wrong? How good does a father have to be, in order to put his son under obligation to defend his blunders? Suppose the father thinks one way, and the mother the other; what are the children to do? Suppose the father changes his opinion; what then? Suppose the father thinks one way and the mother the other, and they both die when the boy is young; and the boy is bound out; whose mistakes is he then bound to follow? Our missionaries tell the barbarian boy that his parents are mistaken, that they know nothing, and that the wooden god is nothing but a senseless idol. They do not hesitate to tell this boy that his mother believed lies, and hugged, it may be to her dying heart, a miserable delusion. Why should a barbarian boy cast reproach upon his parents?

I believe it was Christ who commanded his disciples to leave father and mother; not only to leave them, but to desert them; and not only to desert father and mother, but to desert wives and children. It is also told of Christ that he said that he came to set fathers against children and children against fathers. Strange that a follower of his should object to a man differing in opinion from his parents! The truth is, logic knows nothing of consanguinity; facts have no relatives but other facts; and these facts do not depend upon the character of the person who states them, or upon the position of the discoverer. And this leads me to another branch of the same subject.

The ministers are continually saying that certain great men—kings, presidents, statesmen, millionaires—have believed in the inspiration of the Bible. Only the other day, I read a sermon in which Carlyle was quoted as having said that "the Bible is a noble book." That all may be and yet the book not be inspired. But what is the simple assertion of Thomas Carlyle worth? If the assertion is based upon a reason, then it is worth simply the value of the reason, and the reason is worth just as much without the assertion, but without the reason the assertion is worthless. Thomas Carlyle thought, and solemnly put the thought in print, that his father was a greater man than Robert Burns. His opinion did Burns no harm, and his father no good. Since reading his "Reminiscences," I have no great opinion of his opinion. In some respects he was undoubtedly a great man, in others a small one.

No man should give the opinion of another as authority and in place of fact and reason, unless he is willing to take all the opinions of that man. An opinion is worth the warp and woof of fact and logic in it and no more. A man cannot add to the truthfulness of truth. In the ordinary business of life, we give certain weight to the opinion of specialists—to the opinion of doctors, lawyers, scientists, and historians. Within the domain of the natural, we take the opinions of our fellow-men; but we do not feel that we are absolutely bound by these opinions. We have the right to re- examine them, and if we find they are wrong we feel at liberty to say so. A doctor is supposed to have studied medicine; to have examined and explored the questions entering into his profession; but we know that doctors are often mistaken. We also know that there are many schools of medicine; that these schools disagree with one another, and that the doctors of each school disagree with one another. We also know that many patients die, and so far as we know, these patients have not come back to tell us whether the doctors killed them or not. The grave generally prevents a demonstration. It is exactly the same with the clergy. They have many schools of theology, all despising each other. Probably no two members of the same church exactly agree. They cannot demonstrate their propositions, because between the premise and the logical conclusion or demonstration, stands the tomb. A gravestone marks the end of theology. In some cases, the physician can, by a post- mortem examination, find what killed the patient, but there is no theological post-mortem. It is impossible, by cutting a body open, to find where the soul has gone; or whether baptism, or the lack of it, had the slightest effect upon final destiny. The church, knowing that there are no facts beyond the coffin, relies upon opinions, assertions and theories. For this reason it is always asking alms of distinguished people. Some President wishes to be re-elected, and thereupon speaks about the Bible as "the corner- stone of American Liberty." This sentence is a mouth large enough to swallow any church, and from that time forward the religious people will be citing that remark of the politician to substantiate the inspiration of the Scriptures.

The man who accepts opinions because they have been entertained by distinguished people, is a mental snob. When we blindly follow authority we are serfs. When our reason is convinced we are freemen. It is rare to find a fully rounded and complete man. A man may be a great doctor and a poor mechanic, a successful politician and a poor metaphysician, a poor painter and a good poet.

The rarest thing in the world is a logician—that is to say, a man who knows the value of a fact. It is hard to find mental proportion. Theories may be established by names, but facts cannot be demonstrated in that way. Very small people are sometimes right, and very great people are sometimes wrong. Ministers are sometimes right.

In all the philosophies of the world there are undoubtedly contradictions and absurdities. The mind of man is imperfect and perfect results are impossible. A mirror, in order to reflect a perfect picture, a perfect copy, must itself be perfect. The mind is a little piece of intellectual glass the surface of which is not true, not perfect. In consequence of this, every image is more or less distorted. The less we know, the more we imagine that we can know; but the more we know, the smaller seems the sum of knowledge. The less we know, the more we expect, the more we hope for, and the more seems within the range of probability. The less we have, the more we want. There never was a banquet magnificent enough to gratify the imagination of a beggar. The moment people begin to reason about what they call the supernatural, they seem to lose their minds. People seem to have lost their reason in religious matters, very much as the dodo is said to have lost its wings; they have been restricted to a little inspired island, and by disuse their reason has been lost.

In the Jewish Scriptures you will find simply the literature of the Jews. You will find there the tears and anguish of captivity, patriotic fervor, national aspiration, proverbs for the conduct of daily life, laws, regulations, customs, legends, philosophy and folly. These books, of course, were not written by one man, but by many authors. They do not agree, having been written in different centuries, under different circumstances. I see that Mr. Beecher has at last concluded that the Old Testament does not teach the doctrine of immortality. He admits that from Mount Sinai came no hope for the dead. It is very curious that we find in the Old Testament no funeral service. No one stands by the dead and predicts another life. In the Old Testament there is no promise of another world. I have sometimes thought that while the Jews were slaves in Egypt, the doctrine of immortality became hateful. They built so many tombs; they carried so many burdens to commemorate the dead; the saw a nation waste its wealth to adorn its graves, and leave the living naked to embalm the dead, that they concluded the doctrine was a curse and never should be taught.

Question. If the Jews did not believe in immortality, how do you account for the allusions made to witches and wizards and things of that nature?

Answer. When Saul visited the Witch of Endor, and she, by some magic spell, called up Samuel, the prophet said: "Why hast thou disquieted me, to call me up?" He did not say: Why have you called me from another world? The idea expressed is: I was asleep, why did you disturb that repose which should be eternal? The ancient Jews believed in witches and wizards and familiar spirits; but they did not seem to think that these spirits had once been men and women. They spoke to them as belonging to another world, a world to which man would never find his way. At that time it was supposed that Jehovah and his angels lived in the sky, but that region was not spoken of as the destined home of man. Jacob saw angels going up and down the ladder, but not the spirits of those he had known. There are two cases where it seems that men were good enough to be adopted into the family of heaven. Enoch was translated, and Elijah was taken up in a chariot of fire. As it is exceedingly cold at the height of a few miles, it is easy to see why the chariot was of fire, and the same fact explains another circumstance—the dropping of the mantle. The Jews probably believed in the existence of other beings—that is to say, in angels and gods and evil spirits —and that they lived in other worlds—but there is no passage showing that they believed in what we call the immortality of the soul.

Question. Do you believe, or disbelieve, in the immortality of the soul?

Answer. I neither assert nor deny; I simply admit that I do not know. Upon that subject I am absolutely without evidence. This is the only world that I was ever in. There may be spirits, but I have never met them, and do not know that I would recognize a spirit. I can form no conception of what is called spiritual life. It may be that I am deficient in imagination, and that ministers have no difficulty in conceiving of angels and disembodied souls. I have not the slightest idea how a soul looks, what shape it is, how it goes from one place to another, whether it walks or flies. I cannot conceive of the immaterial having form; neither can I conceive of anything existing without form, and yet the fact that I cannot conceive of a thing does not prove that the thing does not exist, but it does prove that I know nothing about it, and that being so, I ought to admit my ignorance. I am satisfied of a good many things that I do not know. I am satisfied that there is no place of eternal torment. I am satisfied that that doctrine has done more harm than all the religious ideas, other than that, have done good. I do not want to take any hope from any human heart. I have no objection to people believing in any good thing—no objection to their expecting a crown of infinite joy for every human being. Many people imagine that immortality must be an infinite good; but, after all, there is something terrible in the idea of endless life. Think of a river that never reaches the sea; of a bird that never folds its wings; of a journey that never ends. Most people find great pleasure in thinking about and in believing in another world. There the prisoner expects to be free; the slave to find liberty; the poor man expects wealth; the rich man happiness; the peasant dreams of power, and the king of contentment. They expect to find there what they lack here. I do not wish to destroy these dreams. I am endeavoring to put out the everlasting fires. A good, cool grave is infinitely better than the fiery furnace of Jehovah's wrath. Eternal sleep is better than eternal pain. For my part I would rather be annihilated than to be an angel, with all the privileges of heaven, and yet have within my breast a heart that could be happy while those who had loved me in this world were in perdition.

I most sincerely hope that the future life will fulfill all splendid dreams; but in the religion of the present day there is no joy. Nothing is so devoid of comfort, when bending above our dead, as the assertions of theology unsupported by a single fact. The promises are so far away, and the dead are so near. From words spoken eighteen centuries ago, the echoes are so weak, and the sounds of the clods on the coffin are so loud. Above the grave what can the honest minister say? If the dead were not a Christian, what then? What comfort can the orthodox clergyman give to the widow of an honest unbeliever? If Christianity is true, the other world will be worse than this. There the many will be miserable, only the few happy; there the miserable cannot better their condition; the future has no star of hope, and in the east of eternity there can never be a dawn.

Question. If you take away the idea of eternal punishment, how do you propose to restrain men; in what way will you influence conduct for good?

Answer. Well, the trouble with religion is that it postpones punishment and reward to another world. Wrong is wrong, because it breeds unhappiness. Right is right, because it tends to the happiness of man. These facts are the basis of what I call the religion of this world. When a man does wrong, the consequences follow, and between the cause and effect, a Redeemer cannot step. Forgiveness cannot form a breastwork between act and consequence.

There should be a religion of the body—a religion that will prevent deformity, that will refuse to multiply insanity, that will not propagate disease—a religion that is judged by its consequences in this world. Orthodox Christianity has taught, and still teaches, that in this world the difference between the good and the bad is that the bad enjoy themselves, while the good carry the cross of virtue with bleeding brows bound and pierced with the thorns of honesty and kindness. All this, in my judgment, is immoral. The man who does wrong carries a cross. There is no world, no star, in which the result of wrong is real happiness. There is no world, no star, in which the result of doing right is unhappiness. Virtue and vice must be the same everywhere.

Vice must be vice everywhere, because its consequences are evil; and virtue must be virtue everywhere, because its consequences are good. There can be no such thing as forgiveness. These facts are the only restraining influences possible—the innocent man cannot suffer for the guilty and satisfy the law.

Question. How do you answer the argument, or the fact, that the church is constantly increasing, and that there are now four hundred millions of Christians?

Answer. That is what I call the argument of numbers. If that argument is good now, it was always good. If Christians were at any time in the minority, then, according to this argument, Christianity was wrong. Every religion that has succeeded has appealed to the argument of numbers. There was a time when Buddhism was in a majority. Buddha not only had, but has more followers then Christ. Success is not a demonstration. Mohammed was a success, and a success from the commencement. Upon a thousand fields he was victor. Of the scattered tribes of the desert, he made a nation, and this nation took the fairest part of Europe from the followers of the cross. In the history of the world, the success of Mohammed is unparalleled, but this success does not establish that he was the prophet of God.

Now, it is claimed that there are some four hundred millions of Christians. To make that total I am counted as a Christian; I am one of the fifty or sixty millions of Christians in the United States—excluding Indians, not taxed. By this census report, we are all going to heaven—we are all orthodox. At the last great day we can refer with confidence to the ponderous volumes containing the statistics of the United States. As a matter of fact, how many Christians are there in the United States—how many believers in the inspiration of the Scriptures—how many real followers of Christ? I will not pretend to give the number, but I will venture to say that there are not fifty millions. How many in England? Where are the four hundred millions found? To make this immense number, they have counted all the Heretics, all the Catholics, all the Jews, Spiritualists, Universalists and Unitarians, all the babes, all the idiotic and insane, all the Infidels, all the scientists, all the unbelievers. As a matter of fact, they have no right to count any except the orthodox members of the orthodox churches. There may be more "members" now than formerly, and this increase of members is due to a decrease of religion. Thousands of members are only nominal Christians, wearing the old uniform simply because they do not wish to be charged with desertion. The church, too, is a kind of social institution, a club with a creed instead of by-laws, and the creed is never defended unless attacked by an outsider. No objection is made to the minister because he is liberal, if he says nothing about it in his pulpit. A man like Mr. Beecher draws a congregation, not because he is a Christian, but because he is a genius; not because he is orthodox, but because he has something to say. He is an intellectual athlete. He is full of pathos and poetry. He has more description than divinity; more charity than creed, and altogether more common sense than theology. For these reasons thousands of people love to hear him. On the other hand, there are many people who have a morbid desire for the abnormal—for intellectual deformities—for thoughts that have two heads. This accounts for the success of some of Mr. Beecher's rivals.

Christians claim that success is a test of truth. Has any church succeeded as well as the Catholic? Was the tragedy of the Garden of Eden a success? Who succeeded there? The last best thought is not a success, if you mean that only that is a success which has succeeded, and if you mean by succeeding, that it has won the assent of the majority. Besides there is no time fixed for the test. Is that true which succeeds to-day, or next year, or in the next century? Once the Copernican system was not a success. There is no time fixed. The result is that we have to wait. A thing to exist at all has to be, to a certain extent, a success. A thing cannot even die without having been a success. It certainly succeeded enough to have life. Presbyterians should remember, while arguing the majority argument, and the success argument, that there are far more Catholics than Protestants, and that the Catholics can give a longer list of distinguished names.

My answer to all this, however, is that the history of the world shows that ignorance has always been in the majority. There is one right road; numberless paths that are wrong. Truth is one; error is many. When a great truth has been discovered, one man has pitted himself against the world. A few think; the many believe. The few lead; the many follow. The light of the new day, as it looks over the window sill of the east, falls at first on only one forehead.

There is another thing. A great many people pass for Christians who are not. Only a little while ago a couple of ladies were returning from church in a carriage. They had listened to a good orthodox sermon. One said to the other: "I am going to tell you something—I am going to shock you—I do not believe in the Bible." And the other replied: "Neither do I."

—The News, Detroit, Michigan, January 6, 1884.

POLITICS, MORMONISM AND MR. BEECHER

Question. What will be the main issues in the next presidential campaign?

Answer. I think that the principal issues will be civil rights and protection for American industries. The Democratic party is not a unit on the tariff question—neither is the Republican; but I think that a majority of the Democrats are in favor of free trade and a majority of Republicans in favor of a protective tariff. The Democratic Congressmen will talk just enough about free trade to frighten the manufacturing interests of the country, and probably not quite enough to satisfy the free traders. The result will be that the Democrats will talk about reforming the tariff, but will do nothing but talk. I think the tariff ought to be reformed in many particulars; but as long as we need to raise a great revenue my idea is that it ought to be so arranged as to protect to the utmost, without producing monopoly in American manufacturers. I am in favor of protection because it multiplies industries; and I am in favor of a great number of industries because they develop the brain, because they give employment to all and allow us to utilize all the muscle and all the sense we have. If we were all farmers we would grow stupid. If we all worked at one kind of mechanic art we would grow dull. But with a variety of industries, with a constant premium upon ingenuity, with the promise of wealth as the reward of success in any direction, the people become intelligent, and while we are protecting our industries we develop our brains. So I am in favor of the protection of civil rights by the Federal Government, and that, in my judgment, will be one of the great issues in the next campaign.

Question. I see that you say that one of the great issues in the coming campaign will be civil rights; what do you mean by that?

Answer. Well, I mean this. The Supreme Court has recently decided that a colored man whose rights are trampled upon, in a State, cannot appeal to the Federal Government for protection. The decision amounts to this: That Congress has no right until a State has acted, and has acted contrary to the Constitution. Now, if a State refuses to do anything upon the subject, what is the citizen to do? My opinion is that the Government is bound to protect its citizens, and as a consideration for this protection, the citizen is bound to stand by the Government. When the nation calls for troops, the citizen of each State is bound to respond, no matter what his State may think. This doctrine must be maintained, or the United States ceases to be a nation. If a man looks to his State for protection, then he must go with his State. My doctrine is, that there should be patriotism upon the one hand, and protection upon the other. If a State endeavors to secede from the Union, a citizen of that State should be in a position to defy the State and appeal to the Nation for protection. The doctrine now is, that the General Government turns the citizen over to the State for protection, and if the State does not protect him, that is his misfortune; and the consequence of this doctrine will be to build up the old heresy of State Sovereignty—a doctrine that was never appealed to except in the interest of thieving or robbery. That doctrine was first appealed to when the Constitution was formed, because they were afraid the National Government would interfere with the slave trade. It was next appealed to, to uphold the Fugitive Slave Law. It was next appealed to, to give the territories of the United States to slavery. Then it was appealed to, to support rebellion, and now out of this doctrine they attempt to build a breastwork, behind which they can trample upon the rights of free colored men.

I believe in the sovereignty of the Nation. A nation that cannot protect its citizens ought to stop playing nation. In the old times the Supreme Court found no difficulty in supporting slavery by "inference," by "intendment," but now that liberty has become national, the Court is driven to less than a literal interpretation. If the Constitution does not support liberty, it is of no use. To maintain liberty is the only legitimate object of human government. I hope the time will come when the judges of the Supreme Court will be elected, say for a period of ten years. I do not believe in the legal monk system. I believe in judges still maintaining an interest in human affairs.

Question. What do you think of the Mormon question?

Answer. I do not believe in the bayonet plan. Mormonism must be done away with by the thousand influences of civilization, by education, by the elevation of the people. Of course, a gentleman would rather have one noble woman than a hundred females. I hate the system of polygamy. Nothing is more infamous. I admit that the Old Testament upholds it. I admit that the patriarchs were mostly polygamists. I admit that Solomon was mistaken on that subject. But notwithstanding the fact that polygamy is upheld by the Jewish Scriptures, I believe it to be a great wrong. At the same time if you undertake to get the idea out of the Mormons by force you will not succeed. I think a good way to do away with that institution would be for all the churches to unite, bear the expense, and send missionaries to Utah; let these ministers call the people together and read to them the lives of David, Solomon, Abraham and other patriarchs. Let all the missionaries be called home from foreign fields and teach these people that they should not imitate the only men with whom God ever condescended to hold intercourse. Let these frightful examples be held up to these people, and if it is done earnestly, it seems to me that the result would be good.

Polygamy exists. All laws upon the subject should take that fact into consideration, and punishment should be provided for offences thereafter committed. The children of Mormons should be legitimized. In other words, in attempting to settle this question, we should accomplish all the good possible, with the least possible harm.

I agree mostly with Mr. Beecher, and I utterly disagree with the Rev. Mr. Newman. Mr. Newman wants to kill and slay. He does not rely upon Christianity, but upon brute force. He has lost his confidence in example, and appeals to the bayonet. Mr. Newman had a discussion with one of the Mormon elders, and was put to ignominious flight; no wonder that he appeals to force. Having failed in argument, he calls for artillery; having been worsted in the appeal to Scripture, he asks for the sword. He says, failing to convert, let us kill; and he takes this position in the name of the religion of kindness and forgiveness.

Strange that a minister now should throw away the Bible and yell for a bayonet; that he should desert the Scriptures and call for soldiers; that he should lose confidence in the power of the Spirit and trust in a sword. I recommend that Mormonism be done away with by distributing the Old Testament throughout Utah.

Question. What do you think of the investigation of the Department of Justice now going on?

Answer. The result, in my judgment, will depend on its thoroughness. If Mr. Springer succeeds in proving exactly what the Department of Justice did, the methods pursued, if he finds out what their spies and detectives and agents were instructed to do, then I think the result will be as disastrous to the Department as beneficial to the country. The people seem to have forgotten that a little while after the first Star Route trial three of the agents of the Department of Justice were indicted for endeavoring to bribe the jury. They forget that Mr. Bowen, an agent of the Department of Justice, is a fugitive, because he endeavored to bribe the foreman of the jury. They seem to forget that the Department of Justice, in order to cover its own tracks, had the foreman of the jury indicted because one of its agents endeavored to bribe him. Probably this investigation will nudge the ribs of the public enough to make people remember these things. Personally, I have no feelings on the subject. It was enough for me that we succeeded in thwarting its methods, in spite of the detectives, spies, and informers.

The Department is already beginning to dissolve. Brewster Cameron has left it, and as a reward has been exiled to Arizona. Mr. Brewster will probably be the next to pack his official valise. A few men endeavored to win popularity by pursuing a few others, and thus far they have been conspicuous failures. MacVeagh and James are to-day enjoying the oblivion earned by misdirected energy, and Mr. Brewster will soon keep them company. The history of the world does not furnish an instance of more flagrant abuse of power. There never was a trial as shamelessly conducted by a government. But, as I said before, I have no feeling now except that of pity.

Question. I see that Mr. Beecher is coming round to your views on theology?

Answer. I would not have the egotism to say that he was coming round to my views, but evidently Mr. Beecher has been growing. His head has been instructed by his heart; and if a man will allow even the poor plant of pity to grow in his heart he will hold in infinite execration all orthodox religion. The moment he will allow himself to think that eternal consequences depend upon human life; that the few short years we live in the world determine for an eternity the question of infinite joy or infinite pain; the moment he thinks of that he will see that it is an infinite absurdity. For instance, a man is born in Arkansas and lives there to be seventeen or eighteen years of age, is it possible that he can be truthfully told at the day of judgment that he had a fair chance? Just imagine a man being held eternally responsible for his conduct in Delaware! Mr. Beecher is a man of great genius—full of poetry and pathos. Every now and then he is driven back by the orthodox members of his congregation toward the old religion, and for the benefit of those weak disciples he will preach what is called "a doctrinal sermon;" but before he gets through with it, seeing that it is infinitely cruel, he utters a cry of horror, and protests with all the strength of his nature against the cruelty of the creed. I imagine that he has always thought that he was under great obligation to Plymouth Church, but the truth is that the church depends upon him; that church gets its character from Mr. Beecher. He has done a vast deal to ameliorate the condition of the average orthodox mind. He excites the envy of the mediocre minister, and he excites the hatred of the really orthodox, but he receives the approbation of good and generous men everywhere. For my part, I have no quarrel with any religion that does not threaten eternal punishment to very good people, and that does not promise eternal reward to very bad people. If orthodox Christianity is true, some of the best people I know are going to hell, and some of the meanest I have ever known are either in heaven or on the road. Of course, I admit that there are thousands and millions of good Christians—honest and noble people, but in my judgment, Mr. Beecher is the greatest man in the world who now occupies a pulpit.

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Speaking of a man's living in Delaware, a young man, some time ago, came up to me on the street, in an Eastern city and asked for money. "What is your business," I asked. "I am a waiter by profession." "Where do you come from?" "Delaware." "Well, what was the matter —did you drink, or cheat your employer, or were you idle?" "No." "What was the trouble?" "Well, the truth is, the State is so small they don't need any waiters; they all reach for what they want."

Question. Do you not think there are some dangerous tendencies in Liberalism?

Answer. I will first state this proposition: The credit system in morals, as in business, breeds extravagance. The cash system in morals, as well as in business, breeds economy. We will suppose a community in which everybody is bound to sell on credit, and in which every creditor can take the benefit of the bankrupt law every Saturday night, and the constable pays the costs. In my judgment that community would be extravagant as long as the merchants lasted. We will take another community in which everybody has to pay cash, and in my judgment that community will be a very economical one. Now, then, let us apply this to morals. Christianity allows everybody to sin on a credit, and allows a man who has lived, we will say sixty-nine years, what Christians are pleased to call a worldly life, an immoral life. They allow him on his death-bed, between the last dose of medicine and the last breath, to be converted, and that man who has done nothing except evil, becomes an angel. Here is another man who has lived the same length of time, doing all the good he possibly could do, but not meeting with what they are pleased to call "a change of heart;" he goes to a world of pain. Now, my doctrine is that everybody must reap exactly what he sows, other things being equal. If he acts badly he will not be very happy; if he acts well he will not be very sad. I believe in the doctrine of consequences, and that every man must stand the consequences of his own acts. It seems to me that that fact will have a greater restraining influence than the idea that you can, just before you leave this world, shift your burden on to somebody else. I am a believer in the restraining influences of liberty, because responsibility goes hand in hand with freedom. I do not believe that the gallows is the last step between earth and heaven. I do not believe in the conversion and salvation of murderers while their innocent victims are in hell. The church has taught so long that he who acts virtuously carries a cross, and that only sinners enjoy themselves, that it may be that for a little while after men leave the church they may go to extremes until they demonstrate for themselves that the path of vice is the path of thorns, and that only along the wayside of virtue grow the flowers of joy. The church has depicted virtue as a sour, wrinkled termagant; an old woman with nothing but skin and bones, and a temper beyond description; and at the same time vice has been painted in all the voluptuous outlines of a Greek statue. The truth is exactly the other way. A thing is right because it pays; a thing is wrong because it does not; and when I use the word "pays," I mean in the highest and noblest sense.

—The Daily News, Denver, Colorado, January 17, 1884.

FREE TRADE AND CHRISTIANITY.

Question. Who will be the Republican nominee for President?

Answer. The correct answer to this question would make so many men unhappy that I have concluded not to give it.

Question. Has not the Democracy injured itself irretrievably by permitting the free trade element to rule it?

Answer. I do not think that the Democratic party weakened itself by electing Carlisle, Speaker. I think him an excellent man, an exceedingly candid man, and one who will do what he believes ought to be done. I have a very high opinion of Mr. Carlisle. I do not suppose any party in this country is really for free trade. I find that all writers upon the subject, no matter which side they are on, are on that side with certain exceptions. Adam Smith was in favor of free trade, with a few exceptions, and those exceptions were in matters where he thought it was for England's interest not to have free trade. The same may be said of all writers. So far as I can see, the free traders have all the arguments and the protectionists all the facts. The free trade theories are splendid, but they will not work; the results are disastrous. We find by actual experiment that it is better to protect home industries. It was once said that protection created nothing but monopoly; the argument was that way, but the facts are not. Take, for instance, steel rails; when we bought them of England we paid one hundred and twenty-five dollars a ton. I believe there was a tariff of twenty-eight or twenty-nine dollars a ton, and yet in spite of all the arguments going to show that protection would simply increase prices in America, would simply enrich the capitalists and impoverish the consumer, steel rails are now produced, I believe, right here in Colorado for forty-two dollars a ton.

After all, it is a question of labor; a question of prices that shall be paid the laboring man; a question of what the laboring man shall eat; whether he shall eat meat or soup made from the bones. Very few people take into consideration the value of raw material and the value of labor. Take, for instance, your ton of steel rails worth forty-two dollars. The iron in the earth is not worth twenty-five cents. The coal in the earth and the lime in the ledge together are not worth twenty-five cents. Now, then, of the forty-two dollars, forty-one and a half is labor. There is not two dollars' worth of raw material in a locomotive worth fifteen thousand dollars. By raw material I mean the material in the earth. There is not in the works of a watch which will sell for fifteen dollars, raw material of the value of one-half cent. All the rest is labor. A ship, a man-of-war that costs one million dollars— the raw material in the earth is not worth, in my judgment, one thousand dollars. All the rest is labor. If there is any way to protect American labor, I am in favor of it. If the present tariff does not do it, then I am in favor of changing to one that will. If the Democratic party takes a stand for free trade or anything like it, they will need protection; they will need protection at the polls; that is to say, they will meet only with defeat and disaster.

Question. What should be done with the surplus revenue?

Answer. My answer to that is, reduce internal revenue taxation until the present surplus is exhausted, and then endeavor so to arrange your tariff that you will not produce more than you need. I think the easiest question to grapple with on this earth is a surplus of money.

I do not believe in distributing it among the States. I do not think there could be a better certificate of the prosperity of our country than the fact that we are troubled with a surplus revenue; that we have the machinery for collecting taxes in such perfect order, so ingeniously contrived, that it cannot be stopped; that it goes right on collecting money, whether we want it or not; and the wonderful thing about it is that nobody complains. If nothing else can be done with the surplus revenue, probably we had better pay some of our debts. I would suggest, as a last resort, to pay a few honest claims.

Question. Are you getting nearer to or farther away from God, Christianity and the Bible?

Answer. In the first place, as Mr. Locke so often remarked, we will define our terms. If by the word "God" is meant a person, a being, who existed before the creation of the universe, and who controls all that is, except himself, I do not believe in such a being; but if by the word God is meant all that is, that is to say, the universe, including every atom and every star, then I am a believer. I suppose the word that would nearest describe me is "Pantheist." I cannot believe that a being existed from eternity, and who finally created this universe after having wasted an eternity in idleness; but upon this subject I know just as little as anybody ever did or ever will, and, in my judgment, just as much. My intellectual horizon is somewhat limited, and, to tell you the truth, this is the only world that I was ever in. I am what might be called a representative of a rural district, and, as a matter of fact, I know very little about the district. I believe it was Confucius who said: "How should I know anything about another world when I know so little of this?"

The greatest intellects of the world have endeavored to find words to express their conception of God, of the first cause, or of the science of being, but they have never succeeded. I find in the old Confession of Faith, in the old Catechism, for instance, this description: That God is a being without body, parts or passions. I think it would trouble anybody to find a better definition of nothing. That describes a vacuum, that is to say, that describes the absence of everything. I find that theology is a subject that only the most ignorant are certain about, and that the more a man thinks, the less he knows.

From the Bible God, I do not know that I am going farther and farther away. I have been about as far as a man could get for many years. I do not believe in the God of the Old Testament.

Now, as to the next branch of your question, Christianity.

The question arises, What is Christianity? I have no objection to the morality taught as a part of Christianity, no objection to its charity, its forgiveness, its kindness; no objection to its hope for this world and another, not the slightest, but all these things do not make Christianity. Mohammed taught certain doctrines that are good, but the good in the teachings of Mohammed is not Mohammedism. When I speak of Christianity I speak of that which is distinctly Christian. For instance, the idea that the Infinite God was born in Palestine, learned the carpenter's trade, disputed with the parsons of his time, excited the wrath of the theological bigots, and was finally crucified; that afterward he was raised from the dead, and that if anybody believes this he will be saved and if he fails to believe it, he will be lost; in other words, that which is distinctly Christian in the Christian system, is its supernaturalism, its miracles, its absurdity. Truth does not need to go into partnership with the supernatural. What Christ said is worth the reason it contains. If a man raises the dead and then says twice two are five, that changes no rule in mathematics. If a multiplication table was divinely inspired, that does no good. The question is, is it correct? So I think that in the world of morals, we must prove that a thing is right or wrong by experience, by analogy, not by miracles. There is no fact in physical science that can be supernaturally demonstrated. Neither is there any fact in the moral world that could be substantiated by miracles. Now, then, keeping in mind that by Christianity I mean the supernatural in that system, of course I am just as far away from it as I can get. For the man Christ I have respect. He was an infidel in his day, and the ministers of his day cried out blasphemy, as they have been crying ever since, against every person who has suggested a new thought or shown the worthlessness of an old one.

Now, as to the third part of the question, the Bible. People say that the Bible is inspired. Well, what does inspiration mean? Did God write it? No; but the men who did write it were guided by the Holy Spirit. Very well. Did they write exactly what the Holy Spirit wanted them to write? Well, religious people say, yes. At the same time they admit that the gentlemen who were collecting, or taking down in shorthand what was said, had to use their own words. Now, we all know that the same words do not have the same meaning to all people. It is impossible to convey the same thoughts to all minds by the same language, and it is for that reason that the Bible has produced so many sects, not only disagreeing with each other, but disagreeing among themselves.

We find, then, that it is utterly impossible for God (admitting that there is one) to convey the same thoughts in human language to all people. No two persons understand the same language alike. A man's understanding depends upon his experience, upon his capacity, upon the particular bent of his mind—in fact, upon the countless influences that have made him what he is. Everything in nature tells everyone who sees it a story, but that story depends upon the capacity of the one to whom it is told. The sea says one thing to the ordinary man, and another thing to Shakespeare. The stars have not the same language for all people. The consequence is that no book can tell the same story to any two persons. The Jewish Scriptures are like other books, written by different men in different ages of the world, hundreds of years apart, filled with contradictions. They embody, I presume, fairly enough, the wisdom and ignorance, the reason and prejudice, of the times in which they were written. They are worth the good that is in them, and the question is whether we will take the good and throw the bad away. There are good laws and bad laws. There are wise and foolish sayings. There are gentle and cruel passages, and you can find a text to suit almost any frame of mind; whether you wish to do an act of charity or murder a neighbor's babe, you will find a passage that will exactly fit the case. So that I can say that I am still for the reasonable, for the natural; and am still opposed to the absurd and supernatural.

Question. Is there any better or more ennobling belief than Christianity; if so, what is it?

Answer. There are many good things, of course, in every religion, or they would not have existed; plenty of good precepts in Christianity, but the thing that I object to more than all others is the doctrine of eternal punishment, the idea of hell for many and heaven for the few. Take from Christianity the doctrine of eternal punishment and I have no particular objection to what is generally preached. If you will take that away, and all the supernatural connected with it, I have no objection; but that doctrine of eternal punishment tends to harden the human heart. It has produced more misery than all the other doctrines in the world. It has shed more blood; it has made more martyrs. It has lighted the fires of persecution and kept the sword of cruelty wet with heroic blood for at least a thousand years. There is no crime that that doctrine has not produced. I think it would be impossible for the imagination to conceive of a worse religion than orthodox Christianity—utterly impossible; a doctrine that divides this world, a doctrine that divides families, a doctrine that teaches the son that he can be happy, with his mother in perdition; the husband that he can be happy in heaven while his wife suffers the agonies of hell. This doctrine is infinite injustice, and tends to subvert all ideas of justice in the human heart. I think it would be impossible to conceive of a doctrine better calculated to make wild beasts of men than that; in fact, that doctrine was born of all the wild beast there is in man. It was born of infinite revenge.

Think of preaching that you must believe that a certain being was the son of God, no matter whether your reason is convinced or not. Suppose one should meet, we will say on London Bridge, a man clad in rags, and he should stop us and say, "My friend, I wish to talk with you a moment. I am the rightful King of Great Britain," and you should say to him, "Well, my dinner is waiting; I have no time to bother about who the King of England is," and then he should meet another and insist on his stopping while the pulled out some papers to show that he was the rightful King of England, and the other man should say, "I have got business here, my friend; I am selling goods, and I have no time to bother my head about who the King of England is. No doubt you are the King of England, but you don't look like him." And then suppose he stops another man, and makes the same statement to him, and the other man should laugh at him and say, "I don't want to hear anything on this subject; you are crazy; you ought to go to some insane asylum, or put something on your head to keep you cool." And suppose, after all, it should turn out that the man was King of England, and should afterward make his claim good and be crowned in Westminster. What would we think of that King if he should hunt up the gentlemen that he met on London Bridge, and have their heads cut off because they had no faith that he was the rightful heir? And what would we think of a God now who would damn a man eighteen hundred years after the event, because he did not believe that he was God at the time he was living in Jerusalem; not only damn the fellows that he met and who did not believe him, but gentlemen who lived eighteen hundred years afterward, and who certainly could have known nothing of the facts except from hearsay?

The best religion, after all, is common sense; a religion for this world, one world at a time, a religion for to-day. We want a religion that will deal in questions in which we are interested. How are we to do away with crime? How are we to do away with pauperism? How are we to do away with want and misery in every civilized country? England is a Christian nation, and yet about one in six in the city of London dies in almshouses, asylums, prisons, hospitals and jails. We, I suppose, are a civilized nation, and yet all the penitentiaries are crammed; there is want on every hand, and my opinion is that we had better turn our attention to this world.

Christianity is charitable; Christianity spends a great deal of money; but I am somewhat doubtful as to the good that is accomplished. There ought to be some way to prevent crime; not simply to punish it. There ought to be some way to prevent pauperism, not simply to relieve temporarily a pauper, and if the ministers and good people belonging to the churches would spend their time investigating the affairs of this world and let the New Jerusalem take care of itself, I think it would be far better.

The church is guilty of one great contradiction. The ministers are always talking about worldly people, and yet, were it not for worldly people, who would pay the salary? How could the church live a minute unless somebody attended to the affairs of this world? The best religion, in my judgment, is common sense going along hand in hand with kindness, and not troubling ourselves about another world until we get there. I am willing for one, to wait and see what kind of a country it will be.

Question. Does the question of the inspiration of Scriptures affect the beauty and benefits of Christianity here and hereafter?

Answer. A belief in the inspiration of the Scriptures has done, in my judgment, great harm. The Bible has been the breastwork for nearly everything wrong. The defenders of slavery relied on the Bible. The Bible was the real auction block on which every negro stood when he was sold. I never knew a minister to preach in favor of slavery that did not take his text from the Bible. The Bible teaches persecution for opinion's sake. The Bible—that is the Old Testament—upholds polygamy, and just to the extent that men, through the Bible, have believed that slavery, religious persecution, wars of extermination and polygamy were taught by God, just to that extent the Bible has done great harm. The idea of inspiration enslaves the human mind and debauches the human heart.

Question. Is not Christianity and the belief in God a check upon mankind in general and thus a good thing in itself?

Answer. This, again, brings up the question of what you mean by Christianity, but taking it for granted that you mean by Christianity the church, then I answer, when the church had almost absolute authority, then the world was the worst.

Now, as to the other part of the question, "Is not a belief in God a check upon mankind in general?" That is owing to what kind of God the man believes in. When mankind believed in the God of the Old Testament, I think that belief was a bad thing; the tendency was bad. I think that John Calvin patterned after Jehovah as nearly as his health and strength would permit. Man makes God in his own image, and bad men are not apt to have a very good God if they make him. I believe it is far better to have a real belief in goodness, in kindness, in honesty and in mankind than in any supernatural being whatever. I do not suppose it would do any harm for a man to believe in a real good God, a God without revenge, a God that was not very particular in having a man believe a doctrine whether he could understand it or not. I do not believe that a belief of that kind would do any particular harm.

There is a vast difference between the God of John Calvin and the God of Henry Ward Beecher, and a great difference between the God of Cardinal Pedro Gonzales de Mendoza and the God of Theodore Parker.

Question. Well, Colonel, is the world growing better or worse?

Answer. I think better in some respects and worse in others; but on the whole, better. I think that while events, like the pendulum of a clock, go backward and forward, man, like the hands, goes forward. I think there is more reason and less religion, more charity and less creed. I think the church is improving. Ministers are ashamed to preach the old doctrines with the old fervor. There was a time when the pulpit controlled the pews. It is so no longer. The pews know what they want, and if the minister does not furnish it they discharge him and employ another. He is no longer an autocrat; he must bring to the market what his customers are willing to buy.

Question. What are you going to do to be saved?

Answer. Well, I think I am safe, anyway. I suppose I have a right to rely on what Matthew says, that if I will forgive others God will forgive me. I suppose if there is another world I shall be treated very much as I treat others. I never expect to find perfect bliss anywhere; maybe I should tire of it if I should. What I have endeavored to do has been to put out the fires of an ignorant and cruel hell; to do what I could to destroy that dogma; to destroy the doctrine that makes the cradle as terrible as the coffin.

—The Denver Republican, Denver, Colorado, January 17, 1884.

THE OATH QUESTION.

Question. I suppose that your attention has been called to the excitement in England over the oath question, and you have probably wondered that so much should have been made of so little?

Answer. Yes; I have read a few articles upon the subject, including one by Cardinal Newman. It is wonderful that so many people imagine that there is something miraculous in the oath. They seem to regard it as a kind of verbal fetich, a charm, an "open sesame" to be pronounced at the door of truth, a spell, a kind of moral thumbscrew, by means of which falsehood itself is compelled to turn informer.

The oath has outlived its brother, "the wager of battle." Both were born of the idea that God would interfere for the right and for the truth. Trial by fire and by water had the same origin. It was once believed that the man in the wrong could not kill the man in the right; but, experience having shown that he usually did, the belief gradually fell into disrepute. So it was once thought that a perjurer could not swallow a piece of sacramental bread; but, the fear that made the swallowing difficult having passed away, the appeal to the corsned was abolished. It was found that a brazen or a desperate man could eat himself out of the greatest difficulty with perfect ease, satisfying the law and his own hunger at the same time.

The oath is a relic of barbarous theology, of the belief that a personal God interferes in the affairs of men; that some God protects innocence and guards the right. The experience of the world has sadly demonstrated the folly of that belief. The testimony of a witness ought to be believed, not because it is given under the solemnities of an oath, but because it is reasonable. If unreasonable it ought to be thrown aside. The question ought not to be, "Has this been sworn to?" but, "Is this true?" The moment evidence is tested by the standard of reason, the oath becomes a useless ceremony. Let the man who gives false evidence be punished as the lawmaking power may prescribe. He should be punished because he commits a crime against society, and he should be punished in this world. All honest men will tell the truth if they can; therefore, oaths will have no effect upon them. Dishonest men will not tell the truth unless the truth happens to suit their purpose; therefore, oaths will have no effect upon them. We punish them, not for swearing to a lie, but for telling it, and we can make the punishment for telling the falsehood just as severe as we wish. If they are to be punished in another world, the probability is that the punishment there will be for having told the falsehood here. After all, a lie is made no worse by an oath, and the truth is made no better.

Question. You object then to the oath. Is your objection based on any religious grounds, or on any prejudice against the ceremony because of its religious origin; or what is your objection?

Answer. I care nothing about the origin of the ceremony. The objection to the oath is this: It furnishes a falsehood with a letter of credit. It supplies the wolf with sheep's clothing and covers the hands of Jacob with hair. It blows out the light, and in the darkness Leah is taken for Rachel. It puts upon each witness a kind of theological gown. This gown hides the moral rags of the depraved wretch as well as the virtues of the honest man. The oath is a mask that falsehood puts on, and for a moment is mistaken for truth. It gives to dishonesty the advantage of solemnity. The tendency of the oath is to put all testimony on an equality. The obscure rascal and the man of sterling character both "swear," and jurors who attribute a miraculous quality to the oath, forget the real difference in the men, and give about the same weight to the evidence of each, because both were "sworn." A scoundrel is delighted with the opportunity of going through a ceremony that gives importance and dignity to his story, that clothes him for the moment with respectability, loans him the appearance of conscience, and gives the ring of true coin to the base metal. To him the oath is a shield. He is in partnership, for a moment, with God, and people who have no confidence in the witness credit the firm.

Question. Of course you know the religionists insist that people are more likely to tell the truth when "sworn," and that to take away the oath is to destroy the foundation of testimony?

Answer. If the use of the oath is defended on the ground that religious people need a stimulus to tell the truth, then I am compelled to say that religious people have been so badly educated that they mistake the nature of the crime.

They should be taught that to defeat justice by falsehood is the real offence. Besides, fear is not the natural foundation of virtue. Even with religious people fear cannot always last. Ananias and Sapphira have been dead so long, and since their time so many people have sworn falsely without affecting their health that the fear of sudden divine vengeance no longer pales the cheek of the perjurer. If the vengeance is not sudden, then, according to the church, the criminal will have plenty of time to repent; so that the oath no longer affects even the fearful. Would it not be better for the church to teach that telling the falsehood is the real crime, and that taking the oath neither adds to nor takes from its enormity? Would it not be better to teach that he who does wrong must suffer the consequences, whether God forgives him or not?

He who tries to injure another may or may not succeed, but he cannot by any possibility fail to injure himself. Men should be taught that there is no difference between truth-telling and truth-swearing. Nothing is more vicious than the idea that any ceremony or form of words—hand-lifting or book-kissing—can add, even in the slightest degree, to the perpetual obligation every human being is under to speak the truth.

The truth, plainly told, naturally commends itself to the intelligent. Every fact is a genuine link in the infinite chain, and will agree perfectly with every other fact. A fact asks to be inspected, asks to be understood. It needs no oath, no ceremony, no supernatural aid. It is independent of all the gods. A falsehood goes in partnership with theology, and depends on the partner for success.

To show how little influence for good has been attributed to the oath, it is only necessary to say that for centuries, in the Christian world, no person was allowed to testify who had the slightest pecuniary interest in the result of a suit.

The expectation of a farthing in this world was supposed to outweigh the fear of God's wrath in the next. All the pangs, pains, and penalties of perdition were considered as nothing when compared with pounds, shillings and pence in this world.

Question. You know that in nearly all deliberative bodies—in parliaments and congresses—an oath or an affirmation is required to support what is called the Constitution; and that all officers are required to swear or affirm that they will discharge their duties; do these oaths and affirmations, in your judgment, do any good?

Answer. Men have sought to make nations and institutions immortal by oaths. Subjects have sworn to obey kings, and kings have sworn to protect subjects, and yet the subjects have sometimes beheaded a king; and the king has often plundered the subjects. The oaths enabled them to deceive each other. Every absurdity in religion, and all tyrannical institutions, have been patched, buttressed, and reinforced by oaths; and yet the history of the world shows the utter futility of putting in the coffin of an oath the political and religious aspirations of the race.

Revolutions and reformations care little for "So help me God." Oaths have riveted shackles and sanctified abuses. People swear to support a constitution, and they will keep the oath as long as the constitution supports them. In 1776 the colonists cared nothing for the fact that they had sworn to support the British crown. All the oaths to defend the Constitution of the United States did not prevent the Civil War. We have at last learned that States may be kept together for a little time, by force; permanently only by mutual interests. We have found that the Delilah of superstition cannot bind with oaths the secular Samson.

Why should a member of Parliament or of Congress swear to maintain the Constitution? If he is a dishonest man, the oath will have no effect; if he is an honest patriot, it will have no effect. In both cases it is equally useless. If a member fails to support the Constitution the probability is that his constituents will treat him as he does the Constitution. In this country, after all the members of Congress have sworn or affirmed to defend the Constitution, each political party charges the other with a deliberate endeavor to destroy that "sacred instrument." Possibly the political oath was invented to prevent the free and natural development of a nation. Kings and nobles and priests wished to retain the property they had filched and clutched, and for that purpose they compelled the real owners to swear that they would support and defend the law under color of which the theft and robbery had been accomplished.

So, in the church, creeds have been protected by oaths. Priests and laymen solemnly swore that they would, under no circumstances, resort to reason; that they would overcome facts by faith, and strike down demonstrations with the "sword of the spirit." Professors of the theological seminary at Andover, Massachusetts, swear to defend certain dogmas and to attack others. They swear sacredly to keep and guard the ignorance they have. With them, philosophy leads to perjury, and reason is the road to crime. While theological professors are not likely to make an intellectual discovery, still it is unwise, by taking an oath, to render that certain which is only improbable.

If all witnesses sworn to tell the truth, did so, if all members of Parliament and of Congress, in taking the oath, became intelligent, patriotic, and honest, I should be in favor of retaining the ceremony; but we find that men who have taken the same oath advocate opposite ideas, and entertain different opinions, as to the meaning of constitutions and laws. The oath adds nothing to their intelligence; does not even tend to increase their patriotism, and certainly does not make the dishonest honest.

Question. Are not persons allowed to testify in the United States whether they believe in future rewards and punishments or not?

Answer. In this country, in most of the States, witnesses are allowed to testify whether they believe in perdition and paradise or not. In some States they are allowed to testify even if they deny the existence of God. We have found that religious belief does not compel people to tell the truth, and than an utter denial of every Christian creed does not even tend to make them dishonest. You see, a religious belief does not affect the senses. Justice should not shut any door that leads to truth. No one will pretend that, because you do not believe in hell, your sight is impaired, or your hearing dulled, or your memory rendered less retentive. A witness in a court is called upon to tell what he has seen, what he has heard, what he remembers, not what he believes about gods and devils and hells and heavens. A witness substantiates not a faith, but a fact. In order to ascertain whether a witness will tell the truth, you might with equal propriety examine him as to his ideas about music, painting or architecture, as theology. A man may have no ear for music, and yet remember what he hears. He may care nothing about painting, and yet is able to tell what he sees. So he may deny every creed, and yet be able to tell the facts as he remembers them.

Thomas Jefferson was wise enough so to frame the Constitution of Virginia that no person could be deprived of any civil right on account of his religious or irreligious belief. Through the influence of men like Paine, Franklin and Jefferson, it was provided in the Federal Constitution that officers elected under its authority could swear or affirm. This was the natural result of the separation of church and state.

Question. I see that your Presidents and Governors issue their proclamations calling on the people to assemble in their churches and offer thanks to God. How does this happen in a Government where church and state are not united?

Answer. Jefferson, when President, refused to issue what is known as the "Thanksgiving Proclamation," on the ground that the Federal Government had no right to interfere in religious matters; that the people owed no religious duties to the Government; that the Government derived its powers, not from priests or gods, but from the people, and was responsible alone to the source of its power. The truth is, the framers of our Constitution intended that the Government should be secular in the broadest and best sense; and yet there are thousands and thousands of religious people in this country who are greatly scandalized because there is no recognition of God in the Federal Constitution; and for several years a great many ministers have been endeavoring to have the Constitution amended so as to recognize the existence of God and the divinity of Christ. A man by the name of Pollock was once superintendent of the mint of Philadelphia. He was almost insane about having God in the Constitution. Failing in that, he got the inscription on our money, "In God we Trust." As our silver dollar is now, in fact, worth only eighty-five cents, it is claimed that the inscription means that we trust in God for the other fifteen cents.

There is a constant effort on the part of many Christians to have their religion in some way recognized by law. Proclamations are now issued calling upon the people to give thanks, and directing attention to the fact that, while God has scourged or neglected other nations, he has been remarkably attentive to the wants and wishes of the United States. Governors of States issue these documents written in a tone of pious insincerity. The year may or may not have been prosperous, yet the degree of thankfulness called for is always precisely the same.

A few years ago the Governor of Iowa issued an exceedingly rhetorical proclamation, in which the people were requested to thank God for the unparalleled blessings he had showered upon them. A private citizen, fearing that the Lord might be misled by official correspondence, issued his proclamation, in which he recounted with great particularity the hardships of the preceding year. He insisted that the weather had been of the poorest quality; that the spring came late, and the frost early; that the people were in debt; that the farms were mortgaged; that the merchants were bankrupt; and that everything was in the worst possible condition. He concluded by sincerely hoping that the Lord would pay no attention to the proclamation of the Governor, but would, if he had any doubt on the subject, come down and examine the State for himself.

These proclamations have always appeared to me absurdly egotistical. Why should God treat us any better than he does the rest of his children? Why should he send pestilence and famine to China, and health and plenty to us? Why give us corn, and Egypt cholera? All these proclamations grow out of egotism and selfishness, of ignorance and superstition, and are based upon the idea that God is a capricious monster; that he loves flattery; that he can be coaxed and cajoled.

The conclusion of the whole matter with me is this: For truth in courts we must depend upon the trained intelligence of judges, the right of cross-examination, the honesty and common sense of jurors, and upon an enlightened public opinion. As for members of Congress, we will trust to the wisdom and patriotism, not only of the members, but of their constituents. In religion we will give to all the luxury of absolute liberty.

The alchemist did not succeed in finding any stone the touch of which transmuted baser things to gold; and priests have not invented yet an oath with power to force from falsehood's desperate lips the pearl of truth.

—Secular Review, London, England, 1884.

WENDELL PHILLIPS, FITZ JOHN PORTER AND BISMARCK.

Question. Are you seeking to quit public lecturing on religious questions?

Answer. As long as I live I expect now and then to say my say against the religious bigotry and cruelty of the world. As long as the smallest coal is red in hell I am going to keep on. I never had the slightest idea of retiring. I expect the church to do the retiring.

Question. What do you think of Wendell Phillips as an orator?

Answer. He was a very great orator—one of the greatest that the world has produced. He rendered immense service in the cause of freedom. He was in the old days the thunderbolt that pierced the shield of the Constitution. One of the bravest soldiers that ever fought for human rights was Wendell Phillips.

Question. What do you think of the action of Congress on Fitz John Porter?

Answer. I think Congress did right. I think they should have taken this action long before. There was a question of his guilt, and he should have been given the benefit of a doubt. They say he could have defeated Longstreet. There are some people, you know, who would have it that an army could be whipped by a good general with six mules and a blunderbuss. But we do not regard those people. They know no more about it than a lady who talked to me about Porter's case. She argued the question of Porter's guilt for half an hour. I showed her where she was all wrong. When she found she was beaten she took refuge with "Oh, well, anyhow he had no genius." Well, if every man is to be shot who has no genius, I want to go into the coffin business.

Question. What, in your judgment, is necessary to be done to insure Republican success this fall?

Answer. It is only necessary for the Republican party to stand by its principles. We must be in favor of protecting American labor not only, but of protecting American capital, and we must be in favor of civil rights, and must advocate the doctrine that the Federal Government must protect all citizens. I am in favor of a tariff, not simply to raise a revenue—that I regard as incidental. The Democrats regard protection as incidental. The two principles should be, protection to American industry and protection to American citizens. So that, after all, there is but one issue—protection. As a matter of fact, that is all a government is for—to protect. The Republican party is stronger to-day than it was four years ago. The Republican party stands for the progressive ideas of the American people. It has been said that the administration will control the Southern delegates. I do not believe it. This administration has not been friendly to the Southern Republicans, and my opinion is there will be as much division in the Southern as in the Northern States. I believe Blaine will be a candidate, and I do not believe the Prohibitionists will put a ticket in the field, because they have no hope of success.

Question. What do you think generally of the revival of the bloody shirt? Do you think the investigations of the Republicans of the Danville and Copiah massacres will benefit them?

Answer. Well, I am in favor of the revival of that question just as often as a citizen of the Republic is murdered on account of his politics. If the South is sick of that question, let it stop persecuting men because they are Republicans. I do not believe, however, in simply investigating the question and then stopping after the guilty ones are found. I believe in indicting them, trying them, and convicting them. If the Government can do nothing except investigate, we might as well stop, and admit that we have no government. Thousands of people think that it is almost vulgar to take the part of the poor colored people in the South. What part should you take if not that of the weak? The strong do not need you. And I can tell the Southern people now, that as long as they persecute for opinion's sake they will never touch the reins of political power in this country.

Question. How do you regard the action of Bismarck in returning the Lasker resolutions? Was it the result of his hatred of the Jews?

Answer. Bismarck opposed a bill to do away with the disabilities of the Jews on the ground that Prussia is a Christian nation, founded for the purpose of spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ. I presume that it was his hatred of the Jews that caused him to return the resolutions. Bismarck should have lived several centuries ago. He belongs to the Dark Ages. He is a believer in the sword and the bayonet—in brute force. He was loved by Germany simply because he humiliated France. Germany gave her liberty for revenge. It is only necessary to compare Bismarck with Gambetta to see what a failure he really is. Germany was victorious and took from France the earnings of centuries; and yet Germany is to-day the least prosperous nation in Europe. France was prostrate, trampled into the earth, robbed, and yet, guided by Gambetta, is to-day the most prosperous nation in Europe. This shows the difference between brute force and brain.

—The Times, Chicago, Illinois, February 21, 1884.

GENERAL SUBJECTS.

Question. Do you enjoy lecturing?

Answer. Of course I enjoy lecturing. It is a great pleasure to drive the fiend of fear out of the hearts of men women and children. It is a positive joy to put out the fires of hell.

Question. Where do you meet with the bitterest opposition?

Answer. I meet with the bitterest opposition where the people are the most ignorant, where there is the least thought, where there are the fewest books. The old theology is becoming laughable. Very few ministers have the impudence to preach in the old way. They give new meanings to old words. They subscribe to the same creed, but preach exactly the other way. The clergy are ashamed to admit that they are orthodox, and they ought to be.

Question. Do liberal books, such as the works of Paine and Infidel scientists sell well?

Answer. Yes, they are about the only books on serious subjects that do sell well. The works of Darwin, Buckle, Draper, Haeckel, Tyndall, Humboldt and hundreds of others, are read by intelligent people the world over. Works of a religious character die on the shelves. The people want facts. They want to know about the world, about all forms of life. They want the mysteries of every day solved. They want honest thoughts about sensible questions. They are tired of the follies of faith and the falsehoods of superstition. They want a heaven here. In a few years the old theological books will be sold to make paper on which to print the discoveries of science.

Question. In what section of the country do you find the most liberality?

Answer. I find great freedom of thought in Boston, New York, Chicago, San Francisco, in fact, all over what we call the North. The West of course is liberal. The truth is that all the intelligent part of the country is liberal. The railroad, the telegraph, the daily paper, electric light, the telephone, and freedom of thought belong together.

Question. Is it true that you were once threatened with a criminal prosecution for libel on religion?

Answer. Yes, in Delaware. Chief Justice Comegys instructed the grand jury to indict me for blasphemy. I have taken by revenge on the State by leaving it in ignorance. Delaware is several centuries behind the times. It is as bigoted as it is small. Compare Kansas City with Wilmington and you will see the difference between liberalism and orthodoxy.

Question. This is Washington's birthday. What do you think of General Washington?

Answer. I suppose that Washington was what was called religious. He was not very strict in his conduct. He tried to have church and state united in Virginia and was defeated by Jefferson. It should make no difference with us whether Washington was religious or not. Jefferson was by far the greater man. In intellect there was no comparison between Washington and Franklin. I do not prove the correctness of my ideas by names of dead people. I depend upon reason instead of gravestones. One fact is worth a cemetery full of distinguished corpses. We ask not for the belief of somebody, but for evidence, for facts. The church is a beggar at the door of respectability. The moment a man becomes famous, the church asks him for a certificate that the Bible is true. It passes its hat before generals and presidents, and kings while they are alive. It says nothing about thinkers and real philosophers while they live, except to slander them, but the moment they are dead it seeks among their words for a crumb of comfort.

Question. Will Liberalism ever organize in America?

Answer. I hope not. Organization means creed, and creed means petrifaction and tyranny. I believe in individuality. I will not join any society except an anti-society society.

Question. Do you consider the religion of Bhagavat Purana of the East as good as the Christian?

Answer. It is far more poetic. It has greater variety and shows vastly more thought. Like the Hebrew, it is poisoned with superstition, but it has more beauty. Nothing can be more barren than the theology of the Jews and Christians. One lonely God, a heaven filled with thoughtless angels, a hell with unfortunate souls. Nothing can be more desolate. The Greek mythology is infinitely better.

Question. Do you think that the marriage institution is held in less respect by Infidels than by Christians?

Answer. No; there was never a time when marriage was more believed in than now. Never were wives treated better and loved more; never were children happier than now. It is the ambition of the average American to have a good and happy home. The fireside was never more popular than now.

Question. What do you think of Beecher?

Answer. He is a great man, but the habit of his mind and the bent of his early education oppose his heart. He is growing and has been growing every day for many years. He has given up the idea of eternal punishment, and that of necessity destroys it all. The Christian religion is founded upon hell. When the foundation crumbles the fabric falls. Beecher was to have answered my article in the North American Review, but when it appeared and he saw it, he agreed with so much of it that he concluded that an answer would be useless.

—The Times, Kansas City, Missouri, February 23, 1884.

REPLY TO KANSAS CITY CLERGY.

Question. Will you take any notice of Mr. Magrath's challenge?

Answer. I do not think it worth while to discuss with Mr. Magrath. I do not say this in disparagement of his ability, as I do not know the gentleman. He may be one of the greatest of men. I think, however, that Mr. Magrath might better answer what I have already said. If he succeeds in that, then I will meet him in public discussion. Of course he is an eminent theologian or he would not think of discussing these questions with anybody. I have never heard of him, but for all that he may be the most intelligent of men.

Question. How have the recently expressed opinions of our local clergy impressed you?

Answer. I suppose you refer to the preachers who have given their opinion of me. In the first place I am obliged to them for acting as my agents. I think Mr. Hogan has been imposed upon. Tacitus is a poor witness—about like Josephus. I say again that we have not a word about Christ written by any human being who lived in the time of Christ—not a solitary word, and Mr. Hogan ought to know it.

The Rev. Mr. Matthews is mistaken. If the Bible proves anything, it proves that the world was made in six days and that Adam and Eve were built on Saturday. The Bible gives the age of Adam when he died, and then gives the ages of others down to the flood, and then from that time at least to the return from the captivity. If the genealogy of the Bible is true it is about six thousand years since Adam was made, and the world is only five days older than Adam. It is nonsense to say that the days were long periods of time. If that is so, away goes the idea of Sunday. The only reason for keeping Sunday given in the Bible is that God made the world in six days and rested on the seventh. Mr. Mathews is not candid. He knows that he cannot answer the arguments I have urged against the Bible. He knows that the ancient Jews were barbarians, and that the Old Testament is a barbarous book. He knows that it upholds slavery and polygamy, and he probably feels ashamed of what he is compelled to preach.

Mr. Jardine takes a very cheerful view of the subject. He expects the light to dawn on the unbelievers. He speaks as though he were the superior of all Infidels. He claims to be a student of the evidences of Christianity. There are no evidences, consequently Mr. Jardine is a student of nothing. It is amazing how dignified some people can get on a small capital.

Mr. Haley has sense enough to tell the ministers not to attempt to answer me. That is good advice. The ministers had better keep still. It is the safer way. If they try to answer what I say, the "sheep" will see how foolish the "shepherds" are. The best way is for them to say, "that has been answered."

Mr. Wells agrees with Mr. Haley. He, too, thinks that silence is the best weapon. I agree with him. Let the clergy keep still; that is the best way. It is better to say nothing than to talk absurdity. I am delighted to think that at last the ministers have concluded that they had better not answer Infidels.

Mr. Woods is fearful only for the young. He is afraid that I will hurt the children. He thinks that the mother ought to stoop over the cradle and in the ears of the babe shout, Hell! So he thinks in all probability that the same word ought to be repeated at the grave as a consolation to mourners.

I am glad that Mr. Mann thinks that I am doing neither good nor harm. This gives me great hope. If I do no harm, certainly I ought not to be eternally damned. It is very consoling to have an orthodox minister solemnly assert that I am doing no harm. I wish I could say as much for him.

The truth is, all these ministers have kept back their real thoughts. They do not tell their doubts—they know that orthodoxy is doomed —they know that the old doctrine excites laughter and scorn. They know that the fires of hell are dying out; that the Bible is ceasing to be an authority; and that the pulpit is growing feebler and feebler every day. Poor parsons!

Question. Would the Catholicism of General Sherman's family affect his chances for the presidency?

Answer. I do not think the religion of the family should have any weight one way or the other. It would make no difference with me; although I hate Catholicism with all my heart, I do not hate Catholics. Some people might be so prejudiced that they would not vote for a man whose wife belongs to the Catholic Church; but such people are too narrow to be consulted. General Sherman says that he wants no office. In that he shows his good sense. He is a great man and a great soldier. He has won laurels enough for one brow. He has the respect and admiration of the nation, and does not need the presidency to finish his career. He wishes to enjoy the honors he has won and the rest he deserves.

Question. What is your opinion of Matthew Arnold?

Answer. He is a man of talent, well educated, a little fussy, somewhat sentimental, but he is not a genius. He is not creative. He is a critic—not an originator. He will not compare with Emerson.

—The Journal, Kansas City, Missouri, February 23, 1884.

SWEARING AND AFFIRMING.

Question. What is the difference in the parliamentary oath of this country which saves us from such a squabble as they have had in England over the Bradlaugh case?

Answer. Our Constitution provides that a member of Congress may swear or affirm. The consequence is that we can have no such controversy as they have had in England. The framers of our Constitution wished forever to divorce church and state. They knew that it made no possible difference whether a man swore or affirmed, or whether he swore and affirmed to support the Constitution. All the Federal officers who went into the Rebellion had sworn or affirmed to support the Constitution. All that did no good. The entire oath business is a mistake. I think it would be a thousand times better to abolish all oaths in courts of justice. The oath allows a rascal to put on the garments of solemnity, the mask of piety, while he tells a lie. In other words, the oath allows the villain to give falsehood the appearance of truth. I think it would be far better to let each witness tell his story and leave his evidence to the intelligence of the jury and judge. The trouble about an oath is that its tendency is to put all witnesses on an equality; the jury says, "Why, he swore to it." Now, if the oath were abolished, the jury would judge all testimony according to the witness, and then the evidence of one man of good reputation would outweigh the lies of thousands of nobodies.

It was at one time believed that there was something miraculous in the oath, that it was a kind of thumbscrew that would torture the truth out of a rascal, and at one time they believed that if a man swore falsely he might be struck by lightning or paralyzed. But so many people have sworn to lies without having their health impaired that the old superstition has very little weight with the average witness. I think it would be far better to let every man tell his story; let him be cross-examined, let the jury find out as much as they can of his character, of his standing among his neighbors—then weigh his testimony in the scale of reason. The oath is born of superstition, and everything born of superstition is bad. The oath gives the lie currency; it gives it for the moment the ring of true metal, and the ordinary average juror is imposed upon and justice in many instances defeated. Nothing can be more absurd than the swearing of a man to support the Constitution. Let him do what he likes. If he does not support the Constitution, the probability is that his constituents will refuse to support him. Every man who swears to support the Constitution swears to support it as he understands it, and no two understand it exactly alike. Now, if the oath brightened a man's intellect or added to his information or increased his patriotism or gave him a little more honesty, it would be a good thing—but it doesn't. And as a consequence it is a very useless and absurd proceeding. Nothing amuses me more in a court than to see one calf kissing the tanned skin of another.

—The Courier, Buffalo, New York, May 19, 1884.

REPLY TO A BUFFALO CRITIC.

Question. What have you to say in reply to the letter in to- day's Times signed R. H. S.?

Answer. I find that I am accused of "four flagrant wrongs," and while I am not as yet suffering from the qualms of conscience, nor do I feel called upon to confess and be forgiven, yet I have something to say in self-defence.

As to the first objection made by your correspondent, namely, that my doctrine deprives people of the hope that after this life is ended they will meet their fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers, long since passed away, in the land beyond the grave, and there enjoy their company forever, I have this to say: If Christianity is true we are not quite certain of meeting our relatives and friends where we can enjoy their company forever. If Christianity is true most of our friends will be in hell. The ones I love best and whose memory I cherish will certainly be among the lost. The trouble about Christianity is that it is infinitely selfish. Each man thinks that if he can save his own little, shriveled, microscopic soul, that is enough. No matter what becomes of the rest. Christianity has no consolation for a generous man. I do not wish to go to heaven if the ones who have given me joy are to be lost. I would much rather go with them. The only thing that makes life endurable in this world is human love, and yet, according to Christianity, that is the very thing we are not to have in the other world. We are to be so taken up with Jesus and the angels, that we shall care nothing about our brothers and sisters that have been damned. We shall be so carried away with the music of the harp that we shall not even hear the wail of father or mother. Such a religion is a disgrace to human nature.

As to the second objection,—that society cannot be held together in peace and good order without hell and a belief in eternal torment, I would ask why an infinitely wise and good God should make people of so poor and mean a character that society cannot be held together without scaring them. Is it possible that God has so made the world that the threat of eternal punishment is necessary for the preservation of society?

The writer of the letter also says that it is necessary to believe that if a man commits murder here he is destined to be punished in hell for the offence. This is Christianity. Yet nearly every murderer goes directly from the gallows to God. Nearly every murderer takes it upon himself to lecture the assembled multitude who have gathered to see him hanged, and invite them to meet him in heaven. When the rope is about his neck he feels the wings growing. That is the trouble with the Christian doctrine. Every murderer is told he may repent and go to heaven, and have the happiness of seeing his victim in hell. Should heaven at any time become dull, the vein of pleasure can be re-thrilled by the sight of his victim wriggling on the gridiron of God's justice. Really, Christianity leads men to sin on credit. It sells rascality on time and tells all the devils they can have the benefit of the gospel bankrupt act.

The next point in the letter is that I do not preach for the benefit of mankind, but for the money which is the price of blood. Of course it makes no difference whether I preach for money or not. That is to say, it makes no difference to the preached. The arguments I advance are either good or bad. If they are bad they can easily be answered by argument. If they are not they cannot be answered by personalities or by ascribing to me selfish motives. It is not a personal matter. It is a matter of logic, of sense— not a matter of slander, vituperation or hatred. The writer of the letter, R. H. S., may be an exceedingly good person, yet that will add no weight to his or her argument. He or she may be a very bad person, but that would not weaken the logic of the letter, if it had any logic to begin with. It is not for me to say what my motives are in what I do or say; it must be left to the judgment of mankind. I presume I am about as bad as most folks, and as good as some, but my goodness or badness has nothing to do with the question. I may have committed every crime in the world, yet that does not make the story of the flood reasonable, nor does it even tend to show that the three gentlemen in the furnace were not scorched. I may be the best man in the world, yet that does not go to prove that Jonah was swallowed by the whale. Let me say right here that if there is another world I believe that every soul who finds the way to that shore will have an everlasting opportunity to do right—of reforming. My objection to Christianity is that it is infinitely cruel, infinitely selfish, and I might add infinitely absurd. I deprive no one of any hope unless you call the expectation of eternal pain a hope.

Question. Have you read the Rev. Father Lambert's "Notes on Ingersoll," and if so, what have you to say of them or in reply to them?

Answer. I have read a few pages or paragraphs of that pamphlet, and do not feel called upon to say anything. Mr. Lambert has the same right to publish his ideas that I have, and the readers must judge. People who believe his way will probably think that he has succeeded in answering me. After all, he must leave the public to decide. I have no anxiety about the decision. Day by day the people are advancing, and in a little while the sacred superstitions of to-day will be cast aside with the foolish myths and fables of the pagan world.

As a matter of fact there can be no argument in favor of the supernatural. Suppose you should ask if I had read the work of that gentleman who says that twice two are five. I should answer you that no gentleman can prove that twice two are five; and yet this is exactly as easy as to prove the existence of the supernatural. There are no arguments in favor of the supernatural. There are theories and fears and mistakes and prejudices and guesses, but no arguments—plenty of faith, but no facts; plenty of divine revelation, but no demonstration. The supernatural, in my judgment, is a mistake. I believe in the natural.

—The Times, Buffalo, New York, May 19, 1884.

BLASPHEMY.*

     [* "If Robert G. Ingersoll indulges in blasphemy to-night in
     his lecture, as he has in other places and in this city
     before, he will be arrested before he leaves the city."  So
     spoke Rev. Irwin H. Torrence, General Secretary of the
     Pennsylvania Bible Society, yesterday afternoon to a Press
     reporter.  "We have consulted counsel; the law is with us,
     and Ingersoll has but to do what he has done before, to find
     himself in a cell.  Here is the act of March 31, 1860:

     "'If any person shall willfully, premeditatedly and
     despitefully blaspheme or speak loosely and profanely of
     Almighty God, Christ Jesus, the Holy Spirit, or the
     Scriptures of Truth, such person, on conviction thereof,
     shall be sentenced to pay a fine not exceeding one hundred
     dollars, and undergo an imprisonment not exceeding three
     months, or either, at the discretion of the court.'"

     Last evening Colonel Ingersoll sat in the dining room at
     Guy's Hotel, just in from New York City.  When told of the
     plans of Mr. Torrence and his friends, he laughed and said:]

I did not suppose that anybody was idiotic enough to want me arrested for blasphemy. It seems to me that an infinite Being can take care of himself without the aid of any agent of a Bible society. Perhaps it is wrong for me to be here while the Methodist Conference is in session. Of course no one who differs from the Methodist ministers should ever visit Philadelphia while they are here. I most humbly hope to be forgiven.

Question. What do you think of the law of 1860?

Answer. It is exceedingly foolish. Surely, there is no need for the Legislature of Pennsylvania to protect an infinite God, and why should the Bible be protected by law? The most ignorant priest can hold Darwin up to orthodox scorn. This talk of the Rev. Mr. Torrence shows that my lectures are needed; that religious people do not know what real liberty is. I presume that the law of 1860 is an old one re-enacted. It is a survival of ancient ignorance and bigotry, and no one in the Legislature thought it worth while to fight it. It is the same as the law against swearing, both are dead letters and amount to nothing. They are not enforced and should not be. Public opinion will regulate such matters. If all who take the name of God in vain were imprisoned there would not be room in the jails to hold the ministers. They speak of God in the most flippant and snap-your-fingers way that can be conceived of. They speak to him as though he were an intimate chum, and metaphorically slap him on the back in the most familiar way possible.

Question. Have you ever had any similar experiences before?

Answer. Oh, yes—threats have been made, but I never was arrested. When Mr. Torrence gets cool he will see that he has made a mistake. People in Philadelphia have been in the habit of calling the citizens of Boston bigots—but there is more real freedom of thought and expression in Boston than in almost any other city of the world. I think that as I am to suffer in hell forever, Mr. Torrence ought to be satisfied and let me have a good time here. He can amuse himself through all eternity by seeing me in hell, and that ought to be enough to satisfy, not only an agent, but the whole Bible society. I never expected any trouble in this State, and most sincerely hope that Mr. Torrence will not trouble me and make the city a laughing stock.

Philadelphia has no time to waste in such foolish things. Let the Bible take its chances with other books. Let everybody feel that he has the right freely to express his opinions, provided he is decent and kind about it. Certainly the Christians now ought to treat Infidels as well as Penn did Indians.

Nothing could be more perfectly idiotic than in this day and generation to prosecute any man for giving his conclusions upon any religious subject. Mr. Torrence would have had Huxley and Haeckel and Tyndall arrested; would have had Humboldt and John Stuart Mill and Harriet Martineau and George Eliot locked up in the city jail. Mr. Torrence is a fossil from the old red sandstone of a mistake. Let him rest. To hear these people talk you would suppose that God is some petty king, some Liliputian prince, who was about to be dethroned, and who was nearly wild for recruits.

Question. But what would you do if they should make an attempt to arrest you?

Answer. Nothing, except to defend myself in court.

—Philadelphia Press, May 24, 1884.

POLITICS AND BRITISH COLUMBIA.

Question. I understand that there was some trouble in connection with your lecture in Victoria, B. C. What are the facts?

Answer. The published accounts, as circulated by the Associated Press, were greatly exaggerated. The affair was simply this: The authorities endeavored to prevent the lecture. They refused the license, on the ground that the theatre was unsafe, although it was on the ground floor, had many exits and entrances, not counting the windows. The theatre was changed to meet the objections of the fire commissioner, and the authorities expressed their satisfaction and issued the license. Afterward further objection was raised, and on the night of the lecture, when the building was about two- thirds full, the police appeared and said that the lecture would not be allowed to be delivered, because the house was unsafe. After a good deal of talk, the policeman in authority said that there should be another door, whereupon my friends, in a few minutes, made another door with an ax and a saw, the crowd was admitted and the lecture was delivered. The audience was well-behaved, intelligent and appreciative. Beyond some talking in the hall, and the natural indignation of those who had purchased tickets and were refused admittance, there was no disturbance. I understand that those who opposed the lecture are now heartily ashamed of the course pursued.

Question. Are you going to take any part in the campaign?

Answer. It is not my intention to make any political speeches. I have made a good many in the past, and, in my judgment, have done my part. I have no other interest in politics than every citizen should have. I want that party to triumph which, in my judgment, represents the best interests of the country. I have no doubt about the issue of the election. I believe that Mr. Blaine will be the next President. But there are plenty of talkers, and I really think that I have earned a vacation.

Question. What do you think Cleveland's chances are in New York?

Answer. At this distance it is hard to say. The recent action of Tammany complicates matters somewhat. But my opinion is that Blaine will carry the State. I had a letter yesterday from that State, giving the opinion of a gentleman well informed, that Blaine would carry New York by no less than fifty thousand majority.

Question. What figure will Butler cut in the campaign?

Answer. I hardly think that Butler will have many followers on the 4th of November. His forces will gradually go to one side or the other. It is only when some great principle is at stake that thousands of men are willing to vote with a known minority.

Question. But what about the Prohibitionists?

Answer. They have a very large following. They are fighting for something they believe to be of almost infinite consequence, and I can readily understand how a Prohibitionist is willing to be in the minority. It may be well enough for me to say here, that my course politically is not determined by my likes or dislikes of individuals. I want to be governed by principles, not persons. If I really thought that in this campaign a real principle was at stake, I should take part. The only great question now is protection, and I am satisfied that it is in no possible danger.

Question. Not even in the case of a Democratic victory?

Answer. Not even in the event of a Democratic victory. No State in the Union is for free trade. Every free trader has an exception. These exceptions combined, control the tariff legislation of this country, and if the Democrats were in power to-day, with the control of the House and Senate and Executive, the exceptions would combine and protect protection. As long as the Federal Government collects taxes or revenue on imports, just so long these revenues will be arranged to protect home manufactures.

Question. You said that if there were a great principle at stake, you would take part in the campaign. You think, then, that there is no great principle involved?

Answer. If it were a matter of personal liberty, I should take part. If the Republican party had stood by the Civil Rights Bill, I should have taken part in the present campaign.

Question. Still, I suppose we can count on you as a Republican?

Answer. Certainly, I am a Republican.

—Evening Post, San Francisco, California, September 16, 1884.

INGERSOLL CATECHISED.

Question. Does Christianity advance or retard civilization?

Answer. If by Christianity you mean the orthodox church, then I unhesitatingly answer that it does retard civilization, always has retarded it, and always will. I can imagine no man who can be benefitted by being made a Catholic or a Presbyterian or a Baptist or a Methodist—or, in other words, by being made an orthodox Christian. But by Christianity I do not mean morality, kindness, forgiveness, justice. Those virtues are not distinctively Christian. They are claimed by Mohammedans and Buddhists, by Infidels and Atheists—and practiced by some of all classes. Christianity consists of the miraculous, the marvelous, and the impossible.

The one thing that I most seriously object to in Christianity is the doctrine of eternal punishment. That doctrine subverts every idea of justice. It teaches the infinite absurdity that a finite offence can be justly visited by eternal punishment. Another serious objection I have is, that Christianity endeavors to destroy intellectual liberty. Nothing is better calculated to retard civilization than to subvert the idea of justice. Nothing is better calculated to retain barbarism than to deny to every human being the right to think. Justice and Liberty are the two wings that bear man forward. The church, for a thousand years, did all within its power to prevent the expression of honest thought; and when the church had power, there was in this world no civilization. We have advanced just in the proportion that Christianity has lost power. Those nations in which the church is still powerful are still almost savage—Portugal, Spain, and many others I might name. Probably no country is more completely under the control of the religious idea than Russia. The Czar is the direct representative of God. He is the head of the church, as well as of the state. In Russia every mouth is a bastille and every tongue a convict. This Russian pope, this representative of God, has on earth his hell (Siberia), and he imitates the orthodox God to the extent of his health and strength.

Everywhere man advances as the church loses power. In my judgment, Ireland can never succeed until it ceases to be Catholic; and there can be no successful uprising while the confessional exists. At one time in New England the church had complete power. There was then no religious liberty. And so we might make a tour of the world, and find that superstition always has been, is, and forever will be, inconsistent with human advancement.

Question. Do not the evidences of design in the universe prove a Creator?

Answer. If there were any evidences of design in the universe, certainly they would tend to prove a designer, but they would not prove a Creator. Design does not prove creation. A man makes a machine. That does not prove that he made the material out of which the machine is constructed. You find the planets arranged in accordance with what you call a plan. That does not prove that they were created. It may prove that they are governed, but it certainly does not prove that they were created. Is it consistent to say that a design cannot exist without a designer, but that a designer can? Does not a designer need a design as much as a design needs a designer? Does not a Creator need a Creator as much as the thing we think has been created? In other words, is not this simply a circle of human ignorance? Why not say that the universe has existed from eternity, as well as to say that a Creator has existed from eternity? And do you not thus avoid at least one absurdity by saying that the universe has existed from eternity, instead of saying that it was created by a Creator who existed from eternity? Because if your Creator existed from eternity, and created the universe, there was a time when he commenced; and back of that, according to Shelley, is "an eternity of idleness."

Some people say that God existed from eternity, and has created eternity. It is impossible to conceive of an act co-equal with eternity. If you say that God has existed forever, and has always acted, then you make the universe eternal, and you make the universe as old as God; and if the universe be as old as God, he certainly did not create it.

These questions of origin and destiny—of infinite gods—are beyond the powers of the human mind. They cannot be solved. We might as well try to travel fast enough to get beyond the horizon. It is like a man trying to run away from his girdle. Consequently, I believe in turning our attention to things of importance—to questions that may by some possibility be solved. It is of no importance to me whether God exists or not. I exist, and it is important to me to be happy while I exist. Therefore I had better turn my attention to finding out the secret of happiness, instead of trying to ascertain the secret of the universe.

I say with regard to God, I do not know; and therefore I am accused of being arrogant and egotistic. Religious papers say that I do know, because Webster told me. They use Webster as a witness to prove the divinity of Christ. They say that Webster was on the God side, and therefore I ought to be. I can hardly afford to take Webster's ideas of another world, when his ideas about this were so bad. When bloodhounds were pursuing a woman through the tangled swamps of the South—she hungry for liberty—Webster took the side of the bloodhounds. Such a man is no authority for me. Bacon denied the Copernican system of astronomy; he is an unsafe guide. Wesley believed in witches; I cannot follow him. No man should quote a name instead of an argument; no man should bring forward a person instead of a principle, unless he is willing to accept all the ideas of that person.

Question. Is not a pleasant illusion preferable to a dreary truth—a future life being in question?

Answer. I think it is. I think that a pleasing illusion is better then a terrible truth, so far as its immediate results are concerned. I would rather think the one I love living, than to think her dead. I would rather think that I had a large balance in bank than that my account was overdrawn. I would rather think I was healthy than to know that I had a cancer. But if we have an illusion, let us have it pleasing. The orthodox illusion is the worst that can possibly be conceived. Take hell out of that illusion, take eternal pain away from that dream, and say that the whole world is to be happy forever—then you might have an excuse for calling it a pleasant illusion; but it is, in fact, a nightmare —a perpetual horror—a cross, on which the happiness of man has been crucified.

Question. Are not religion and morals inseparable?

Answer. Religion and morality have nothing in common, and yet there is no religion except the practice of morality. But what you call religion is simply superstition. Religion as it is now taught teaches our duties toward God—our obligations to the Infinite, and the results of a failure to discharge those obligations. I believe that we are under no obligations to the Infinite; that we cannot be. All our obligations are to each other, and to sentient beings. "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," has nothing to do with morality. "Do unto other as ye would that others should do unto you" has nothing to do with believing in the Lord Jesus Christ. Baptism has nothing to do with morality. "Pay your honest debts." That has nothing to do with baptism. What is called religion is simple superstition, with which morality has nothing to do.

The churches do not prevent people from committing natural offences, but restrain them from committing artificial ones. As for instance, the Catholic Church can prevent one of its members from eating meat on Friday, but not from whipping his wife. The Episcopal Church can prevent dancing, it may be, in Lent, but not slander. The Presbyterian can keep a man from working on Sunday, but not from practicing deceit on Monday. And so I might go through the churches. They lay the greater stress upon the artificial offences. Those countries that are the most religious are the most immoral. When the world was under the control of the Catholic Church, it reached the very pit of immorality, and nations have advanced in morals just in proportion that they have lost Christianity.

Question. It is frequently asserted that there is nothing new in your objections against Christianity. What is your reply to such assertions?

Answer. Of course, the editors of religious papers will say this; Christians will say this. In my opinion, an argument is new until it has been answered. An argument is absolutely fresh, and has upon its leaves the dew of morning, until it has been refuted. All men have experienced, it may be, in some degree, what we call love. Millions of men have written about it. The subject is of course old. It is only the presentation that can be new. Thousands of men have attacked superstition. The subject is old, but the manner in which the facts are handled, the arguments grouped—these may be forever new. Millions of men have preached Christianity. Certainly there is nothing new in the original ideas. Nothing can be new except the presentation, the grouping. The ideas may be old, but they may be clothed in new garments of passion; they may be given additional human interest. A man takes a fact, or an old subject, as a sculptor takes a rock; the rock is not new. Of this rock he makes a statue; the statue is new. And yet some orthodox man might say there is nothing new about that statue: "I know the man that dug the rock; I know the owner of the quarry." Substance is eternal; forms are new. So in the human mind certain ideas, or in the human heart certain passions, are forever old; but genius forever gives them new forms, new meanings; and this is the perpetual originality of genius.

Question. Do you consider that churches are injurious to the community?

Answer. In the exact proportion that churches teach falsehood; in the exact proportion that they destroy liberty of thought, the free action of the human mind; in the exact proportion that they teach the doctrine of eternal pain, and convince people of its truth—they are injurious. In the proportion that they teach morality and justice, and practice kindness and charity—in that proportion they are a benefit. Every church, therefore, is a mixed problem—part good and part bad. In one direction it leads toward and sheds light; in the other direction its influence is entirely bad.

Now, I would like to civilize the churches, so that they will be able to do good deeds without building bad creeds. In other words, take out the superstitious and the miraculous, and leave the human and the moral.

Question. Why do you not respond to the occasional clergyman who replies to your lectures?

Answer. In the first place, no clergyman has ever replied to my lectures. In the second place, no clergyman ever will reply to my lectures. He does not answer my arguments—he attacks me; and the replies that I have seen are not worth answering. They are far below the dignity of the question under discussion. Most of them are ill-mannered, as abusive as illogical, and as malicious as weak. I cannot reply without feeling humiliated. I cannot use their weapons, and my weapons they do not understand. I attack Christianity because it is cruel, and they account for all my actions by putting behind them base motives. They make it at once a personal question. They imagine that epithets are good enough arguments with which to answer an Infidel. A few years ago they would have imprisoned me. A few years before that they would have burned me. We have advanced. Now they only slander; and I congratulate myself on the fact that even that is not believed. Ministers do not believe each other about each other. The truth has never yet been ascertained in any trial by a church. The longer the trial lasts, the obscurer is the truth. They will not believe each other, even on oath; and one of the most celebrated ministers of this country has publicly announced that there is no use in answering a lie started by his own church; that if he does answer it—if he does kill it—forty more lies will come to the funeral.

In this connection we must remember that the priests of one religion never credit the miracles of another religion. Is this because priests instinctively know priests? Now, when a Christian tells a Buddhist some of the miracles of the Testament, the Buddhist smiles. When a Buddhist tells a Christian the miracles performed by Buddha, the Christian laughs. This reminds me of an incident. A man told a most wonderful story. Everybody present expressed surprise and astonishment, except one man. He said nothing; he did not even change countenance. One who noticed that the story had no effect on this man, said to him: "You do not seem to be astonished in the least at this marvelous tale." The man replied, "No; I am a liar myself."

You see, I am not trying to answer individual ministers. I am attacking the whole body of superstition. I am trying to kill the entire dog, and I do not feel like wasting any time killing fleas on that dog. When the dog dies, the fleas will be out of provisions, and in that way we shall answer them all at once.

So, I do not bother myself answering religious newspapers. In the first place, they are not worth answering; and in the second place, to answer would only produce a new crop of falsehoods. You know, the editor of a religious newspaper, as a rule, is one who has failed in the pulpit; and you can imagine the brains necessary to edit a religious weekly from this fact. I have known some good religious editors. By some I mean one. I do not say that there are not others, but I do say I do not know them. I might add, here, that the one I did know is dead.

Since I have been in this city there have been some "replies" to me. They have been almost idiotic. A Catholic priest asked me how I had the impudence to differ with Newton. Newton, he says, believed in a God; and I ask this Catholic priest how he has the impudence to differ with Newton. Newton was a Protestant. This simply shows the absurdity of using men's names for arguments. This same priest proves the existence of God by a pagan orator. Is it possible that God's last witness died with Cicero? If it is necessary to believe in a God now, the witnesses ought to be on hand now.

Another man, pretending to answer me, quotes Le Conte, a geologist; and according to this geologist we are "getting very near to the splendors of the great white throne." Where is the great white throne? Can any one, by studying geology, find the locality of the great white throne? To what stratum does it belong? In what geologic period was the great white throne formed? What on earth has geology to do with the throne of God?

The truth is, there can be no reply to the argument that man should be governed by his reason; that he should depend upon observation and experience; that he should use the faculties he has for his own benefit, and the benefit of his fellow-man. There is no answer. It is not within the power of man to substantiate the supernatural. It is beyond the power of evidence.

Question. Why do the theological seminaries find it difficult to get students?

Answer. I was told last spring, at New Haven, that the "theologs," as they call the young men there being fitted for the ministry, were not regarded as intellectual by all the other students. The orthodox pulpit has no rewards for genius. It has rewards only for stupidity, for belief—not for investigation, not for thought; and the consequence is that young men of talent avoid the pulpit. I think I heard the other day that of all the students at Harvard only nine are preparing for the ministry. The truth is, the ministry is not regarded as an intellectual occupation. The average church now consists of women and children. Men go to please their wives, or stay at home and subscribe to please their wives; and the wives are beginning to think, and many of them are staying at home. Many of them now prefer the theatre or the opera or the park or the seashore or the forest or the companionship of their husbands and children at home.

Question. How does the religious state of California compare with the rest of the Union?

Answer. I find that sensible people everywhere are about the same, and the proportion of Freethinkers depends on the proportion of sensible folks. I think that California has her full share of sensible people. I find everywhere the best people and the brightest people—the people with the most heart and the best brain—all tending toward free thought. Of course, a man of brain cannot believe the miracles of the Old and New Testaments. A man of heart cannot believe in the doctrine of eternal pain. We have found that other religions are like ours, with precisely the same basis, the same idiotic miracles, the same Christ or Saviour. It will hardly do to say that all others like ours are false, and ours the only true one, when others substantially like it are thousands of years older. We have at last found that a religion is simply an effort on the part of man to account for what he sees, what he experiences, what he feels, what he fears, and what he hopes. Every savage has his philosophy. That is his religion and his science.

The religions of to-day are the sciences of the past; and it may be that the sciences of to-day will be the religions of the future, and that other sciences will be as far beyond them as the science of to-day is beyond the religion of to-day. As a rule, religion is a sanctified mistake, and heresy a slandered fact. In other words, the human mind grows—and as it grows it abandons the old, and the old gets its revenge by maligning the new.

—The San Franciscan, San Francisco, October 4, 1884.

BLAINE'S DEFEAT.

Question. Colonel, the fact that you took no part in the late campaign, is a subject for general comment, and knowing your former enthusiastic advocacy and support of Blaine, the people are somewhat surprised, and would like to know why?

Answer. In the first place, it was generally supposed that Blaine needed no help. His friends were perfectly confident. They counted on a very large Catholic support. The Irish were supposed to be spoiling to vote for Blaine and Logan. All the Protestant ministers were also said to be solid for the ticket. Under these circumstances it was hardly prudent for me to say much.

I was for Blaine in 1876. In 1880 I was for Garfield, and in 1884 I was for Gresham or Harlan. I believed then and I believe now that either one of these men could have been elected. Blaine is an exceedingly able man, but he made some mistakes and some very unfortunate utterances. I took no part in the campaign; first, because there was no very important issue, no great principle at stake, and second, I thought that I had done enough, and, third, because I wanted to do something else.

Question. What, in your opinion, were the causes for Blaine's defeat?

Answer. First, because of dissension in the party. Second, because party ties have grown weak. Third, the Prohibition vote. Fourth, the Delmonico dinner—too many rich men. Fifth, the Rev. Dr. Burchard with his Rum, Romanism and Rebellion. Sixth, giving too much attention to Ohio and not enough to New York. Seventh, the unfortunate remark of Mr. Blaine, that "the State cannot get along without the Church." Eighth, the weakness of the present administration. Ninth, the abandonment by the party of the colored people of the South. Tenth, the feeling against monopolies, and not least, a general desire for a change.

Question. What, in your opinion, will be the result of Cleveland's election and administration upon the general political and business interests of the country?

Answer. The business interests will take care of themselves. A dollar has the instinct of self-preservation largely developed. The tariff will take care of itself. No State is absolutely for free trade. In each State there is an exception. The exceptions will combine, as they always have. Michigan will help Pennsylvania take care of iron, if Pennsylvania will help Michigan take care of salt and lumber. Louisiana will help Pennsylvania and Michigan if they help her take care of sugar. Colorado, California and Ohio will help the other States if they will help them about wool—and so I might make a tour of the States, ending with Vermont and maple sugar. I do not expect that Cleveland will do any great harm. The Democrats want to stay in power, and that desire will give security for good behavior.

Question. Will he listen to or grant any demands made of him by the alleged Independent Republicans of New York, either in his appointments or policies?

Answer. Of this I know nothing. The Independents—from what I know of them—will be too modest to claim credit or to ask office. They were actuated by pure principle. They did what they did to purify the party, so that they could stay in it. Now that it has been purified they will remain, and hate the Democratic party as badly as ever. I hardly think that Cleveland would insult their motives by offering loaves and fishes. All they desire is the approval of their own consciences.

—The Commonwealth, Topeka, Kansas, November 21, 1884.

BLAINE'S DEFEAT.

Question. How do you account for the defeat of Mr. Blaine?

Answer. How do I account for the defeat of Mr. Blaine? I will answer: St. John, the Independents, Burchard, Butler and Cleveland did it. The truth is that during the war a majority of the people, counting those in the South, were opposed to putting down the Rebellion by force. It is also true that when the Proclamation of Emancipation was issued a majority of the people, counting the whole country, were opposed to it, and it is also true that when the colored people were made citizens a majority of the people, counting the whole country, were opposed to it.

Now, while, in my judgment, an overwhelming majority of the whole people have honestly acquiesced in the result of the war, and are now perfectly loyal to the Union, and have also acquiesced in the abolition of slavery, I doubt very much whether they are really in favor of giving the colored man the right to vote. Of course they have not the power now to take that right away, but they feel anything but kindly toward the party that gave the colored man that right. That is the only result of the war that is not fully accepted by the South and by many Democrats of the North.

Another thing, the Republican party was divided—divided too by personal hatreds. The party was greatly injured by the decision of the Supreme Court in which the Civil Rights Bill was held void. Now, a great many men who kept with the Republican party, did so because they believed that that party would protect the colored man in the South, but as soon as the Court decided that all the laws passed were unconstitutional, these men felt free to vote for the other side, feeling that it would make no difference. They reasoned this way: If the Republican party cannot defend the colored people, why make a pretence that excites hatred on one side and disarms the other? If the colored people have to depend upon the State for protection, and the Federal Government cannot interfere, why say any more about it?

I think that these men made a mistake and our party made a mistake in accepting without protest a decision that was far worse than the one delivered in the case of Dred Scott. By accepting this decision the most important issue was abandoned. The Republican party must take the old ground that it is the duty of the Federal Government to protect the citizens, and that it cannot simply leave that duty to the State. It must see to it that the State performs that duty.

Question. Have you seen the published report that Dorsey claims to have paid you one hundred thousand dollars for your services in the Star Route Cases?

Answer. I have seen the report, but Dorsey never said anything like that.

Question. Is there no truth in the statement, then?

Answer. Well, Dorsey never said anything of the kind.

Question. Then you do not deny that you received such an enormous fee?

Answer. All I say is that Dorsey did not say I did.*

—The Commercial, Louisville, Kentucky, October 24, 1884.

     [* Col. Ingersoll has been so criticised and maligned for
     defending Mr. Dorsey in the Star Route cases, and so
     frequently charged with having received an enormous fee,
     that I think it but simple justice to his memory to say that
     he received no such fee, and that the ridiculously small
     sums he did receive were much more than offset by the amount
     he had to pay as indorser of Mr. Dorsey's paper. —C. F.
     FARRELL.]

PLAGIARISM AND POLITICS.

Question. What have you to say about the charges published in this morning's Herald to the effect that you copied your lecture about "Mistakes of Moses" from a chapter bearing the same title in a book called Hittell's "Evidences against Christianity"?

Answer. All I have to say is that the charge is utterly false. I will give a thousand dollars reward to any one who will furnish a book published before my lecture, in which that lecture can be found. It is wonderful how malicious the people are who love their enemies. This charge is wholly false, as all others of like nature are. I do not have to copy the writings of others. The Christians do not seem to see that they are constantly complimenting me by saying that what I write is so good that I must have stolen it. Poor old orthodoxy!

Question. What is your opinion of the incoming administration, and how will it affect the country?

Answer. I feel disposed to give Cleveland a chance. If he does the fair thing, then it is the duty of all good citizens to say so. I do not expect to see the whole country go to destruction because the Democratic party is in power. Neither do I believe that business is going to suffer on that account. The times are hard, and I fear will be much harder, but they would have been substantially the same if Blaine had been elected. I wanted the Republican party to succeed and fully expected to see Mr. Blaine President, but I believe in making the best of what has happened. I want no office, I want good government—wise legislation. I believe in protection, but I want the present tariff reformed and I hope the Democrats will be wise enough to do so.

Question. How will the Democratic victory affect the colored people in the South?

Answer. Certainly their condition will not be worse than it has been. The Supreme Court decided that the Civil Rights Bill was unconstitutional and that the Federal Government cannot interfere. That was a bad decision and our party made a mistake in not protesting against it. I believe it to be the duty of the Federal Government to protect all its citizens, at home as well as abroad. My hope is that there will be a division in the Democratic party. That party has something now to divide. At last it has a bone, and probably the fighting will commence. I hope that some new issue will take color out of politics, something about which both white and colored may divide. Of course nothing would please me better than to see the Democratic party become great and grand enough to give the colored people their rights.

Question. Why did you not take part in the campaign?

Answer. Well, I was afraid of frightening the preachers away. I might have done good by scaring one, but I did not know Burchard until it was too late. Seriously, I did not think that I was needed. I supposed that Blaine had a walkover, that he was certain to carry New York. I had business of my own to attend to and did not want to interfere with the campaign.

Question. What do you think of the policy of nominating Blaine in 1888, as has been proposed?

Answer. I think it too early to say what will be done in 1888. Parties do not exist for one man. Parties have certain ends in view and they choose men as instruments to accomplish these ends. Parties belong to principles, not persons. No party can afford to follow anybody. If in 1888 Mr. Blaine should appear to be the best man for the party then he will be nominated, otherwise not. I know nothing about any intention to nominate him again and have no idea whether he has that ambition. The Whig party was intensely loyal to Henry Clay and forgot the needs of the country, and allowed the Democrats to succeed with almost unknown men. Parties should not belong to persons, but persons should belong to parties. Let us not be too previous—let us wait.

Question. What do you think of the course pursued by the Rev. Drs. Ball and Burchard?

Answer. In politics the preacher is somewhat dangerous. He has a standard of his own; he has queer ideas of evidence, great reliance on hearsay; he is apt to believe things against candidates, just because he wants to. The preacher thinks that all who differ with him are instigated by the Devil—that their intentions are evil, and that when they behave themselves they are simply covering the poison with sugar. It would have been far better for the country if Mr. Ball had kept still. I do not pretend to say that his intentions were not good. He likely thought it his duty to lift a warning voice, to bawl aloud and to spare not, but I think he made a mistake, and he now probably thinks so himself. Mr. Burchard was bound to say a smart thing. It sounded well, and he allowed his ears to run away with his judgment. As a matter of fact, there is no connection between rum and Romanism. Catholic countries do not use as much alcohol as Protestant. England has far more drunkards than Spain. Scotland can discount Italy or Portugal in good, square drinking. So there is no connection between Romanism and rebellion. Ten times as many Methodists and twenty times as many Baptists went into the Rebellion as Catholics. Thousands of Catholics fought as bravely as Protestants for the preservation of the Union. No doubt Mr. Burchard intended well. He thought he was giving Blaine a battle-cry that would send consternation into the hearts of the opposition. My opinion is that in the next campaign the preachers will not be called to the front. Of course they have the same right to express their views that other people have, but other people have the right to avoid the responsibility of appearing to agree with them. I think though that it is about time to let up on Burchard. He has already unloaded on the Lord.

Question. Do you think Cleveland will put any Southern men in his Cabinet?

Answer. I do. Nothing could be in worse taste than to ignore the section that gave him three-fourths of his vote. The people have put the Democratic party in power. They intended to do what they did, and why should the South not be recognized? Garland would make a good Attorney-General; Lamar has the ability to fill any position in the Cabinet. I could name several others well qualified, and I suppose that two or three Southern men will be in the Cabinet. If they are good enough to elect a President they are good enough to be selected by a President.

Question. What do you think of Mr. Conkling's course?

Answer. Mr. Conkling certainly had the right to keep still. He was under no obligation to the party. The Republican papers have not tried to secure his services. He has been very generally and liberally denounced ever since his quarrel with Mr. Garfield, and it is only natural to resent what a man feels to be an injustice. I suppose he has done what he honestly thought was, under the circumstances, his duty. I believe him to be a man of stainless integrity, and he certainly has as much independence of character as one man can carry. It is time to put the party whip away. People can be driven from, but not to, the Republican party. If we expect to win in 1888 we must welcome recruits.

—The Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio, Dec. 11, 1884.

RELIGIOUS PREJUDICE.

Question. Will a time ever come when political campaigns will be conducted independently of religious prejudice?

Answer. As long as men are prejudiced, they will probably be religious, and certainly as long as they are religious they will be prejudiced, and every religionist who imagines the next world infinitely more important than this, and who imagines that he gets his orders from God instead of from his own reason, or from his fellow-citizens, and who thinks that he should do something for the glory of God instead of for the benefit of his fellow-citizens —just as long as they believe these things, just so long their prejudices will control their votes. Every good, ignorant, orthodox Christian places his Bible above laws and constitutions. Every good, sincere and ignorant Catholic puts pope above king and president, as well as above the legally expressed will of a majority of his countrymen. Every Christian believes God to be the source of all authority. I believe that the authority to govern comes from the consent of the governed. Man is the source of power, and to protect and increase human happiness should be the object of government. I think that religious prejudices are growing weaker because religious belief is growing weaker. And these prejudices —should men ever become really civilized—will finally fade away. I think that a Presbyterian, to-day, has no more prejudice against an Atheist than he has against a Catholic. A Catholic does not dislike an Infidel any more than he does a Presbyterian, and I believe, to-day, that most of the Presbyterians would rather see and Atheist President than a pronounced Catholic.

Question. Is Agnosticism gaining ground in the United States?

Answer. Of course, there are thousands and thousands of men who have now advanced intellectually to the point of perceiving the limit of human knowledge. In other words, at last they are beginning to know enough to know what can and cannot be known. Sensible men know that nobody knows whether an infinite God exists or not. Sensible men know that an infinite personality cannot, by human testimony, be established. Sensible men are giving up trying to answer the questions of origin and destiny, and are paying more attention to what happens between these questions—that is to say, to this world. Infidelity increases as knowledge increases, as fear dies, and as the brain develops. After all, it is a question of intelligence. Only cunning performs a miracle, only ignorance believes it.

Question. Do you think that evolution and revealed religion are compatible—that is to say, can a man be an evolutionist and a Christian?

Answer. Evolution and Christianity may be compatible, provided you take the ground that Christianity is only one of the links in the chain, one of the phases of civilization. But if you mean by Christianity what is generally understood, of course that and evolution are absolutely incompatible. Christianity pretends to be not only the truth, but, so far as religion is concerned, the whole truth. Christianity pretends to give a history of religion and a prophecy of destiny. As a philosophy, it is an absolute failure. As a history, it is false. There is no possible way by which Darwin and Moses can be harmonized. There is an inexpressible conflict between Christianity and Science, and both cannot long inhabit the same brain. You cannot harmonize evolution and the atonement. The survival of the fittest does away with original sin.

Question. From your knowledge of the religious tendency in the United States, how long will orthodox religion be popular?

Answer. I do not think that orthodox religion is popular to-day. The ministers dare not preach the creed in all its naked deformity and horror. They are endeavoring with the vines of sentiment to cover up the caves and dens in which crawl the serpents of their creed. Very few ministers care now to speak of eternal pain. They leave out the lake of fire and brimstone. They are not fond of putting in the lips of Christ the loving words, "Depart from me, ye cursed." The miracles are avoided. In short, what is known as orthodoxy is already unpopular. Most ministers are endeavoring to harmonize what they are pleased to call science and Christianity, and nothing is now so welcome to the average Christian as some work tending to show that, after all, Joshua was an astronomer.

Question. What section of the United States, East, West, North, or South, is the most advanced in liberal religious ideas?

Answer. That section of the country in which there is the most intelligence is the most liberal. That section of the country where there is the most ignorance is the most prejudiced. The least brain is the most orthodox. There possibly is no more progressive city in the world, no more liberal, than Boston. Chicago is full of liberal people. So is San Francisco. The brain of New York is liberal. Every town, every city, is liberal in the precise proportion that it is intelligent.

Question. Will the religion of humanity be the religion of the future?

Answer. Yes; it is the only religion now. All other is superstition. What they call religion rests upon a supposed relation between man and God. In what they call religion man is asked to do something for God. As God wants nothing, and can by no possibility accept anything, such a religion is simply superstition. Humanity is the only possible religion. Whoever imagines that he can do anything for God is mistaken. Whoever imagines that he can add to his happiness in the next world by being useless in this, is also mistaken. And whoever thinks that any God cares how he cuts his hair or his clothes, or what he eats, or whether he fasts, or rings a bell, or puts holy water on his breast, or counts beads, or shuts his eyes and says words to the clouds, is laboring under a great mistake.

Question. A man in the Swaim Court Martial case was excluded as a witness because he was an Atheist. Do you think the law in the next decade will permit the affirmative oath?

Answer. If belief affected your eyes, your ears, any of your senses, or your memory, then, of course, no man ought to be a witness who had not the proper belief. But unless it can be shown that Atheism interferes with the sight, the hearing, or the memory, why should justice shut the door to truth?

In most of the States of this Union I could not give testimony. Should a man be murdered before my eyes I could not tell a jury who did it. Christianity endeavors to make an honest man an outlaw. Christianity has such a contemptible opinion of human nature that it does not believe a man can tell the truth unless frightened by a belief in God. No lower opinion of the human race has ever been expressed.

Question. Do you think that bigotry would persecute now for religious opinion's sake, if it were not for the law and the press?

Answer. I think that the church would persecute to-day if it had the power, just as it persecuted in the past. We are indebted for nearly all our religious liberty to the hypocrisy of the church. The church does not believe. Some in the church do, and if they had the power, they would torture and burn as of yore. Give the Presbyterian Church the power, and it would not allow an Infidel to live. Give the Methodist Church the power and the result would be the same. Give the Catholic Church the power—just the same. No church in the United States would be willing that any other church should have the power. The only men who are to be angels in the next world are the ones who cannot be trusted with human liberty in this; and the man who are destined to live forever in hell are the only gentlemen with whom human liberty is safe. Why should Christians refuse to persecute in this world, when their God is going to in the next?

—Mail and Express, New York, January 12, 1885.

CLEVELAND AND HIS CABINET.

Question. What do you think of Mr. Cleveland's Cabinet?

Answer. It is a very good Cabinet. Some objections have been made to Mr. Lamar, but I think he is one of the very best. He is a man of ability, of unquestioned integrity, and is well informed on national affairs. Ever since he delivered his eulogy on the life and services of Sumner, I have had great respect for Mr. Lamar. He is far beyond most of his constituents, and has done much to destroy the provincial prejudices of Mississippi. He will without doubt make an excellent Secretary of the Interior. The South has no better representative man, and I believe his appointment will, in a little while, be satisfactory to the whole country. Bayard stands high in his party, and will certainly do as well as his immediate predecessor. Nothing could be better than the change in the Department of Justice. Garland is an able lawyer, has been an influential Senator and will, in my judgment, make an excellent Attorney-General. The rest of the Cabinet I know little about, but from what I hear I believe they are men of ability and that they will discharge their duties well. Mr. Vilas has a great reputation in Wisconsin, and is one of the best and most forcible speakers in the country.

Question. Will Mr. Cleveland, in your opinion, carry out the civil service reform he professes to favor?

Answer. I have no reason to suspect even that he will not. He has promised to execute the law, and the promise is in words that do not admit of two interpretations. Of course he is sincere. He knows that this course will save him a world of trouble, and he knows that it makes no difference about the politics of a copyist. All the offices of importance will in all probability be filled by Democrats. The President will not put himself in the power of his opponents. If he is to be held responsible for the administration he must be permitted to choose his own assistants. This is too plain to talk about. Let us give Mr. Cleveland a fair show—and let us expect success instead of failure. I admit that many Presidents have violated their promises. There seems to be something in the atmosphere of Washington that breeds promise and prevents performance. I suppose it is some kind of political malarial microbe. I hope that some political Pasteur will, one of these days, discover the real disease so that candidates can be vaccinated during the campaign. Until them, presidential promises will be liable to a discount.

Question. Is the Republican party dead?

Answer. My belief is that the next President will be a Republican, and that both houses will be Republican in 1889. Mr. Blaine was defeated by an accident—by the slip of another man's tongue. But it matters little what party is in power if the Government is administered upon correct principles, and if the Democracy adopt the views of the Republicans and carry out Republican measures, it may be that they can keep in power—otherwise—otherwise. If the Democrats carry out real Democratic measures, then their defeat is certain.

Question. Do you think that the era of good feeling between the North and the South has set in with the appointment of ex-rebels to the Cabinet?

Answer. The war is over. The South failed. The Nation succeeded. We should stop talking about South and North. We are one people, and whether we agree or disagree one destiny awaits us. We cannot divide. We must live together. We must trust each other. Confidence begets confidence. The whole country was responsible for slavery. Slavery was rebellion. Slavery is dead—so is rebellion. Liberty has united the country and there is more real union, national sentiment to-day, North and South, than ever before.

Question. It is hinted that Mr. Tilden is really the power behind the throne. Do you think so?

Answer. I guess nobody has taken the hint. Of course Mr. Tilden has retired from politics. The probability is that many Democrats ask his advice, and some rely on his judgment. He is regarded as a piece of ancient wisdom—a phenomenal persistence of the Jeffersonian type—the connecting link with the framers, founders and fathers. The power behind the throne is the power that the present occupant supposes will determine who the next occupant shall be.

Question. With the introduction of the Democracy into power, what radical changes will take place in the Government, and what will be the result?

Answer. If the President carries out his inaugural promises there will be no radical changes, and if he does not there will be a very radical change at the next presidential election. The inaugural is a very good Republican document. There is nothing in it calculated to excite alarm. There is no dangerous policy suggested—no conceited vagaries—nothing but a plain statement of the situation and the duty of the Chief Magistrate as understood by the President. I think that the inaugural surprised the Democrats and the Republicans both, and if the President carries out the program he has laid down he will surprise and pacify a large majority of the American people.

—Mail and Express, New York, March 10, 1885.

RELIGION, PROHIBITION, AND GEN. GRANT.

Question. What do you think of prohibition, and what do you think of its success in this State?

Answer. Few people understand the restraining influence of liberty. Moderation walks hand in hand with freedom. I do not mean the freedom springing from the sudden rupture of restraint. That kind of freedom usually rushes to extremes.

People must be educated to take care of themselves, and this education must commence in infancy. Self-restraint is the only kind that can always be depended upon. Of course intemperance is a great evil. It causes immense suffering—clothes wives and children in rags, and is accountable for many crimes, particularly those of violence. Laws to be of value must be honestly enforced. Laws that sleep had better be dead. Laws to be enforced must be honestly approved of and believed in by a large majority of the people. Unpopular laws make hypocrites, perjurers and official shirkers of duty. And if to the violation of such laws severe penalties attach, they are rarely enforced. Laws that create artificial crimes are the hardest to carry into effect. You can never convince a majority of people that it is as bad to import goods without paying the legal duty as to commit larceny. Neither can you convince a majority of people that it is a crime or sin, or even a mistake, to drink a glass of wine or beer. Thousands and thousands of people in this State honestly believe that prohibition is an interference with their natural rights, and they feel justified in resorting to almost any means to defeat the law.

In this way people become somewhat demoralized. It is unfortunate to pass laws that remain unenforced on account of their unpopularity. People who would on most subjects swear to the truth do not hesitate to testify falsely on a prohibition trial. In addition to this, every known device is resorted to, to sell in spite of the law, and when some want to sell and a great many want to buy, considerable business will be done, while there are fewer saloons and less liquor sold in them. The liquor is poorer and the price is higher. The consumer has to pay for the extra risk. More liquor finds its way to homes, more men buy by the bottle and gallon. In old times nearly everybody kept a little rum or whiskey on the sideboard. The great Washingtonian temperance movement drove liquor out of the home and increased the taverns and saloons. Now we are driving liquor back to the homes. In my opinion there is a vast difference between distilled spirits and the lighter drinks, such as wine and beer. Wine is a fireside and whiskey a conflagration. These lighter drinks are not unhealthful and do not, as I believe, create a craving for stronger beverages. You will, I think, find it almost impossible to enforce the present law against wine and beer. I was told yesterday that there are some sixty places in Cedar Rapids where whiskey is sold. It takes about as much ceremony to get a drink as it does to join the Masons, but they seem to like the ceremony. People seem to take delight in outwitting the State when it does not involve the commission of any natural offence, and when about to be caught, may not hesitate to swear falsely to the extent of "don't remember," or "can't say positively," or "can't swear whether it was whiskey or not."

One great trouble in Iowa is that the politicians, or many of them who openly advocate prohibition, are really opposed to it. They want to keep the German vote, and they do not want to lose native Republicans. They feel a "divided duty" to ride both horses. This causes the contrast between their conversation and their speeches. A few years ago I took dinner with a gentleman who had been elected Governor of one of our States on the Prohibition ticket. We had four kinds of wine during the meal, and a pony of brandy at the end. Prohibition will never be a success until it prohibits the Prohibitionists. And yet I most sincerely hope and believe that the time will come when drunkenness shall have perished from the earth. Let us cultivate the love of home. Let husbands and wives and children be companions. Let them seek amusements together. If it is a good place for father to go, it is a good place for mother and the children. I believe that a home can be made more attractive than a saloon. Let the boys and girls amuse themselves at home—play games, study music, read interesting books, and let the parents be their playfellows. The best temperance lecture, in the fewest words, you will find in Victor Hugo's great novel "Les Miserables." The grave digger is asked to take a drink. He refuses and gives this reason: "The hunger of my family is the enemy of my thirst."

Question. Many people wonder why you are out of politics. Will you give your reasons?

Answer. A few years ago great questions had to be settled. The life of the nation was at stake. Later the liberty of millions of slaves depended upon the action of the Government. Afterward reconstruction and the rights of citizens pressed themselves upon the people for solution. And last, the preservation of national honor and credit. These questions did not enter into the last campaign. They had all been settled, and properly settled, with the one exception of the duty of the nation to protect the colored citizens. The Supreme Court settled that, at least for a time, and settled it wrong. But the Republican party submitted to the civil rights decision, and so, as between the great parties, that question did not arise. This left only two questions—protection and office. But as a matter of fact, all Republicans were not for our present system of protection, and all Democrats were not against it. On that question each party was and is divided. On the other question—office—both parties were and are in perfect harmony. Nothing remains now for the Democrats to do except to give a "working" definition of "offensive partisanship."

Question. Do you think that the American people are seeking after truth, or do they want to be amused?

Answer. We have all kinds. Thousands are earnestly seeking for the truth. They are looking over the old creeds, they are studying the Bible for themselves, they have the candor born of courage, they are depending upon themselves instead of on the clergy. They have found out that the clergy do not know; that their sources of information are not reliable; that, like the politicians, many ministers preach one way and talk another. The doctrine of eternal pain has driven millions from the church. People with good hearts cannot get consolation out of that cruel lie. The ministers themselves are getting ashamed to call that doctrine "the tidings of great joy." The American people are a serious people. They want to know the truth. They fell that whatever the truth may be they have the courage to hear it. The American people also have a sense of humor. They like to see old absurdities punctured and solemn stupidity held up to laughter. They are, on the average, the most intelligent people on the earth. They can see the point. Their wit is sharp, quick and logical. Nothing amuses them more that to see the mask pulled from the face of sham. The average American is generous, intelligent, level-headed, manly, and good- natured.

Question. What, in your judgment, is the source of the greatest trouble among men?

Answer. Superstition. That has caused more agony, more tears, persecution and real misery than all other causes combined. The other name for superstition is ignorance. When men learn that all sin is a mistake, that all dishonesty is a blunder, that even intelligent selfishness will protect the rights of others, there will be vastly more happiness in this world. Shakespeare says that "There is no darkness but ignorance." Sometime man will learn that when he steals from another, he robs himself—that the way to be happy is to make others so, and that it is far better to assist his fellow-man than to fast, say prayers, count beads or build temples to the Unknown. Some people tell us that selfishness is the only sin, but selfishness grows in the soil of ignorance. After all, education is the great lever, and the only one capable of raising mankind. People ignorant of their own rights are ignorant of the rights of others. Every tyrant is the slave of ignorance.

Question. How soon do you think we would have the millennium if every person attended strictly to his own business?

Answer. Now, if every person were intelligent enough to know his own business—to know just where his rights ended and the rights of others commenced, and then had the wisdom and honesty to act accordingly, we should have a very happy world. Most people like to control the conduct of others. They love to write rules, and pass laws for the benefit of their neighbors, and the neighbors are pretty busy at the same business. People, as a rule, think that they know the business of other people better than they do their own. A man watching others play checkers or chess always thinks he sees better moves than the players make. When all people attend to their own business they will know that a part of their own business is to increase the happiness of others.

Question. What is causing the development of this country?

Answer. Education, the free exchange of ideas, inventions by which the forces of nature become our servants, intellectual hospitality, a willingness to hear the other side, the richness of our soil, the extent of our territory, the diversity of climate and production, our system of government, the free discussion of political questions, our social freedom, and above all, the fact that labor is honorable.

Question. What is your opinion of the religious tendency of the people of this country?

Answer. Using the word religion in its highest and best sense, the people are becoming more religious. We are far more religious —using the word in its best sense—than when we believed in human slavery, but we are not as orthodox as we were then. We have more principle and less piety. We care more for the right and less for the creed. The old orthodox dogmas are mouldy. You will find moss on their backs. They are only brought out when a new candidate for the ministry is to be examined. Only a little while ago in New York a candidate for the Presbyterian pulpit was examined and the following is a part of the examination:

Question. "Do you believe in eternal punishment, as set forth in the confession of faith?"

Answer. (With some hesitation) "Yes, I do."

Question. "Have you preached on that subject lately?"

Answer. "No. I prepared a sermon on hell, in which I took the ground that the punishment of the wicked will be endless, and have it with me."

Question. "Did you deliver it?"

Answer. "No. I thought that my congregation would not care to hear it. The doctrine is rather unpopular where I have been preaching, and I was afraid I might do harm, so I have not delivered it yet."

Question. "But you believe in eternal damnation, do you not?"

Answer. "O yes, with all my heart."

He was admitted, and the admission proves the dishonesty of the examiners and the examined. The new version of the Old and New Testaments has done much to weaken confidence in the doctrine of inspiration. It has occurred to a good many that if God took the pains to inspire men to write the Bible, he ought to have inspired others to translate it correctly. The general tendency today is toward science, toward naturalism, toward what is called Infidelity, but is in fact fidelity. Men are in a transition state, and the people, on the average, have more real good, sound sense to-day than ever before. The church is losing its power for evil. The old chains are wearing out, and new ones are not being made. The tendency is toward intellectual freedom, and that means the final destruction of the orthodox bastille.

Question. What is your opinion of General Grant as he stands before the people to-day?

Answer. I have always regarded General Grant as the greatest soldier this continent has produced. He is to-day the most distinguished son of the Republic. The people have the greatest confidence in his ability, his patriotism and his integrity. The financial disaster impoverished General Grant, but he did not stain the reputation of the grand soldier who led to many victories the greatest army that ever fought for the liberties of man.

—Iowa State Register, May 23, 1885.

HELL OR SHEOL AND OTHER SUBJECTS.

Question. Colonel, have you read the revised Testament?

Answer. Yes, but I don't believe the work has been fairly done. The clergy are not going to scrape the butter off their own bread. The clergy are offensive partisans, and those of each denomination will interpret the Scriptures their way. No Baptist minister would countenance a "Revision" that favored sprinkling, and no Catholic priest would admit that any version would be correct that destroyed the dogma of the "real presence." So I might go through all the denominations.

Question. Why was the word sheol introduced in place of hell, and how do you like the substitute?

Answer. The civilized world has outgrown the vulgar and brutal hell of their fathers and founders of the churches. The clergy are ashamed to preach about sulphurous flames and undying worms. The imagination of the world has been developed, the heart has grown tender, and the old dogma of eternal pain shocks all civilized people. It is becoming disgraceful either to preach or believe in such a beastly lie. The clergy are beginning to think that it is hardly manly to frighten children with a detected falsehood. Sheol is a great relief. It is not so hot as the old place. The nights are comfortable, and the society is quite refined. The worms are dead, and the air reasonably free from noxious vapors. It is a much worse word to hold a revival with, but much better for every day use. It will hardly take the place of the old word when people step on tacks, put up stoves, or sit on pins; but for use at church fairs and mite societies it will do about as well. We do not need revision; excision is what we want. The barbarism should be taken out of the Bible. Passages upholding polygamy, wars of extermination, slavery, and religious persecution should not be attributed to a perfect God. The good that is in the Bible will be saved for man, and man will be saved from the evil that is in that book. Why should we worship in God what we detest in man?

Question. Do you think the use of the word sheol will make any difference to the preachers?

Answer. Of course it will make no difference with Talmage. He will make sheol just as hot and smoky and uncomfortable as hell, but the congregations will laugh instead of tremble. The old shudder has gone. Beecher had demolished hell before sheol was adopted. According to his doctrine of evolution hell has been slowly growing cool. The cindered souls do not even perspire. Sheol is nothing to Mr. Beecher but a new name for an old mistake. As for the effect it will have on Heber Newton, I cannot tell, neither can he, until he asks his bishop. There are people who believe in witches and madstones and fiat money, and centuries hence it may be that people will exist who will believe as firmly in hell as Dr. Shedd does now.

Question. What about Beecher's sermons on "Evolution"?

Answer. Beecher's sermons on "Evolution" will do good. Millions of people believe that Mr. Beecher knows at least as much as the other preachers, and if he regards the atonement as a dogma with a mistake for a foundation, they may conclude that the whole system is a mistake. But whether Mr. Beecher is mistaken or not, people know that honesty is a good thing, that gratitude is a virtue, that industry supports the world, and that whatever they believe about religion they are bound by every conceivable obligation to be just and generous. Mr. Beecher can no more succeed in reconciling science and religion, than he could in convincing the world that triangles and circles are exactly the same. There is the same relation between science and religion that there is between astronomy and astrology, between alchemy and chemistry, between orthodoxy and common sense.

Question. Have you read Miss Cleveland's book? She condemns George Eliot's poetry on the ground that it has no faith in it, nothing beyond. Do you imagine she would condemn Burns or Shelley for that reason?

Answer. I have not read Miss Cleveland's book; but, if the author condemns the poetry of George Eliot, she has made a mistake. There is no poem in our language more beautiful than "The Lovers," and none loftier or purer than "The Choir Invisible." There is no poetry in the "beyond." The poetry is here—here in this world, where love is in the heart. The poetry of the beyond is too far away, a little too general. Shelley's "Skylark" was in our sky, the daisy of Burns grew on our ground, and between that lark and that daisy is room for all the real poetry of the earth.

—Evening Record, Boston, Mass., 1885.

INTERVIEWING, POLITICS AND SPIRITUALISM.

Question. What is your opinion of the peculiar institution of American journalism known as interviewing?

Answer. If the interviewers are fair, if they know how to ask questions of a public nature, if they remember what is said, or write it at the time, and if the interviewed knows enough to answer questions in a way to amuse or instruct the public, then interviewing is a blessing. But if the representative of the press asks questions, either impudent or unimportant, and the answers are like the questions, then the institution is a failure. When the journalist fails to see the man he wishes to interview, or when the man refuses to be interviewed, and thereupon the aforesaid journalist writes up an interview, doing the talking for both sides, the institution is a success. Such interviews are always interesting, and, as a rule, the questions are to the point and the answers perfectly responsive. There is probably a little too much interviewing, and to many persons are asked questions upon subjects about which they know nothing. Mr. Smith makes some money in stocks or pork, visits London, and remains in that city for several weeks. On his return he is interviewd as to the institutions, laws and customs of the British Empire. Of course such an interview is exceedingly instructive. Lord Affanaff lands at the dock in North River, is driven to a hotel in a closed carriage, is interviewed a few minutes after by a representative of the Herald as to his view of the great Republic based upon what he has seen. Such an interview is also instructive. Interviews with candidates as to their chances of election is another favorite way of finding out their honest opinion, but people who rely on those interviews generally lose their bets. The most interesting interviews are generally denied. I have been expecting to see an interview with the Rev. Dr. Leonard on the medicinal properties of champagne and toast, or the relation between old ale and modern theology, and as to whether prohibition prohibits the Prohibitionists.

Question. Have you ever been misrepresented in interviews?

Answer. Several times. As a general rule, the clergy have selected these misrepresentations when answering me. I never blamed them, because it is much easier to answer something I did not say. Most reporters try to give my real words, but it is difficult to remember. They try to give the substance, and in that way change or destroy the sense. You remember the Frenchman who translated Shakespeare's great line in Macbeth—"Out, brief candle!"—into "Short candle, go out!" Another man, trying to give the last words of Webster—"I still live"—said "I aint dead yit." So that when they try to do their best they often make mistakes. Now and then interviews appear not one word of which I ever said, and sometimes when I really had an interview, another one has appeared. But generally the reporters treat me well, and most of them succeed in telling about what I said. Personally I have no cause for complaint.

Question. What do you think of the administration of President Cleveland?

Answer. I know but very little about it. I suppose that he is doing the best he can. He appears to be carrying out in good faith the principles laid down in the platform on which he was elected. He is having a hard road to travel. To satisfy an old Democrat and a new mugwump is a difficult job. Cleveland appears to be the owner of himself—appears to be a man of great firmness and force of character. The best thing that I have heard about him is that he went fishing on Sunday. We have had so much mock morality, dude deportment and hypocritical respectability in public office, that a man with courage enough to enjoy himself on Sunday is a refreshing and healthy example. All things considered I do not see but that Cleveland is doing well enough. The attitude of the administration toward the colored people is manly and fair so far as I can see.

Question. Are you still a Republican in political belief?

Answer. I believe that this is a Nation. I believe in the equality of all men before the law, irrespective of race, religion or color. I believe that there should be a dollar's worth of silver in a silver dollar. I believe in a free ballot and a fair count. I believe in protecting those industries, and those only, that need protection. I believe in unrestricted coinage of gold and silver. I believe in the rights of the State, the rights of the citizen, and the sovereignty of the Nation. I believe in good times, good health, good crops, good prices, good wages, good food, good clothes and in the absolute and unqualified liberty of thought. If such belief makes a Republican, than that is what I am.

Question. Do you approve of John Sherman's policy in the present campaign with reference to the bloody shirt, which reports of his speeches show that he is waving?

Answer. I have not read Senator Sherman's speech. It seems to me that there is a better feeling between the North and South than ever before—better than at any time since the Revolutionary war. I believe in cultivating that feeling, and in doing and saying what we can to contribute to its growth. We have hated long enough and fought enough. The colored people never have been well treated but they are being better treated now than ever before. It takes a long time to do away with prejudices that were based upon religion and rascality—that is to say, inspiration and interest. We must remember that slavery was the crime of the whole country. Now, if Senator Sherman has made a speech calculated to excite the hatreds and prejudices of the North and South, I think that he has made a mistake. I do not say that he has made such a speech, because I have not read it. The war is over—it ended at Appomattox. Let us hope that the bitterness born of the conflict died out forever at Riverside. The people are tired almost to death of the old speeches. They have been worn out and patched, and even the patches are threadbare. The Supreme Court decided the Civil Rights Bill to be unconstitutional, and the Republican party submitted. I regarded the decision as monstrous, but the Republican party when in power said nothing and did nothing. I most sincerely hope that the Democratic party will protect the colored people at least as well as we did when we were in power. But I am out of politics and intend to keep politics out of me.

Question. We have been having the periodical revival of interest in Spiritualism. What do you think of "Spiritualism," as it is popularly termed?

Answer. I do not believe in the supernatural. One who does not believe in gods would hardly believe in ghosts. I am not a believer in any of the "wonders" and "miracles" whether ancient or modern. There may be spirits, but I do not believe there are. They may communicate with some people, but thus far they have been successful in avoiding me. Of course, I know nothing for certain on the subject. I know a great many excellent people who are thoroughly convinced of the truth of Spiritualism. Christians laugh at the "miracles" to-day, attested by folks they know, but believe the miracles of long ago, attested by folks that they did not know. This is one of the contradictions in human nature. Most people are willing to believe that wonderful things happened long ago and will happen again in the far future; with them the present is the only time in which nature behaves herself with becoming sobriety.

In old times nature did all kinds of juggling tricks, and after a long while will do some more, but now she is attending strictly to business, depending upon cause and effect.

Question. Who, in your opinion, is the greatest leader of the "opposition" yclept the Christian religion?

Answer. I suppose that Mr. Beecher is the greatest man in the pulpit, but he thinks more of Darwin than he does of David and has an idea that the Old Testament is just a little too old. He has put evolution in the place of the atonement—has thrown away the Garden of Eden, snake, apples and all, and is endeavoring to save enough of the orthodox wreck to make a raft. I know of no other genius in the pulpit. There are plenty of theological doctors and bishops and all kinds of titled humility in the sacred profession, but men of genius are scarce. All the ministers, except Messrs. Moody and Jones, are busy explaining away the contradiction between inspiration and demonstration.

Question. What books would you recommend for the perusal of a young man of limited time and culture with reference to helping him in the development of intellect and good character?

Answer. The works of Darwin, Ernst Haeckel, Draper's "Intellectual Development of Europe," Buckle's "History of Civilization in England," Lecky's "History of European Morals," Voltaire's "Philosophical Dictionary," Büchner's "Force and Matter," "The History of the Christian Religion" by Waite; Paine's "Age of Reason," D'Holbach's "System of Nature," and, above all, Shakespeare. Do not forget Burns, Shelley, Dickens and Hugo.

Question. Will you lecture the coming winter?

Answer. Yes, about the same as usual. Woe is me if I preach not my gospel.

Question. Have you been invited to lecture in Europe? If so do you intend to accept the "call"?

Answer. Yes, often. The probability is that I shall go to England and Australia. I have not only had invitations but most excellent offers from both countries. There is, however, plenty to do here. This is the best country in the world and our people are eager to hear the other side.

The old kind of preaching is getting superannuated. It lags superfluous in the pulpit. Our people are outgrowing the cruelties and absurdities of the ancient Jews. The idea of hell has become shocking and vulgar. Eternal punishment is eternal injustice. It is infinitely infamous. Most ministers are ashamed to preach the doctrine, and the congregations are ashamed to hear it preached. It is the essence of savagery.

—Plain Dealer, Cincinnati, Ohio, September 5, 1885.

MY BELIEF.

Question. It is said that in the past four or five years you have changed or modified your views upon the subject of religion; is this so?

Answer. It is not so. The only change, if that can be called a change, is, that I am more perfectly satisfied that I am right— satisfied that what is called orthodox religion is a simple fabrication of mistaken men; satisfied that there is no such thing as an inspired book and never will be; satisfied that a miracle never was and never will be performed; satisfied that no human being knows whether there is a God or not, whether there is another life or not; satisfied that the scheme of atonement is a mistake, that the innocent cannot, by suffering for the guilty, atone for the guilt; satisfied that the doctrine that salvation depends on belief, is cruel and absurd; satisfied that the doctrine of eternal punishment is infamously false; satisfied that superstition is of no use to the human race; satisfied that humanity is the only true and real religion.

No, I have not modified my views. I detect new absurdities every day in the popular belief. Every day the whole thing becomes more and more absurd. Of course there are hundreds and thousands of most excellent people who believe in orthodox religion; people for whose good qualities I have the greatest respect; people who have good ideas on most other subjects; good citizens, good fathers, husbands, wives and children—good in spite of their religion. I do not attack people. I attack the mistakes of people. Orthodoxy is getting weaker every day.

Question. Do you believe in the existence of a Supreme Being?

Answer. I do not believe in any Supreme personality or in any Supreme Being who made the universe and governs nature. I do not say that there is no such Being—all I say is that I do not believe that such a Being exists. I know nothing on the subject, except that I know that I do not know and that nobody else knows. But if there is such a Being, he certainly never wrote the Old Testament. You will understand my position. I do not say that a Supreme Being does not exist, but I do say that I do not believe such a Being exists. The universe—embracing all that is—all atoms, all stars, each grain of sand and all the constellations, each thought and dream of animal and man, all matter and all force, all doubt and all belief, all virtue and all crime, all joy and all pain, all growth and all decay—is all there is. It does not act because it is moved from without. It acts from within. It is actor and subject, means and end.

It is infinite; the infinite could not have been created. It is indestructible and that which cannot be destroyed was not created. I am a Pantheist.

Question. Don't you think the belief of the Agnostic is more satisfactory to the believer than that of the Atheist?

Answer. There is no difference. The Agnostic is an Atheist. The Atheist is an Agnostic. The Agnostic says: "I do not know, but I do not believe there is any God." The Atheist says the same. The orthodox Christian says he knows there is a God; but we know that he does not know. He simply believes. He cannot know. The Atheist cannot know that God does not exist.

Question. Haven't you just the faintest glimmer of a hope that in some future state you will meet and be reunited to those who are dear to you in this?

Answer. I have no particular desire to be destroyed. I am willing to go to heaven if there be such a place, and enjoy myself for ever and ever. It would give me infinite satisfaction to know that all mankind are to be happy forever. Infidels love their wives and children as well as Christians do theirs. I have never said a word against heaven—never said a word against the idea of immortality. On the contrary, I have said all I could truthfully say in favor of the idea that we shall live again. I most sincerely hope that there is another world, better than this, where all the broken ties of love will be united. It is the other place I have been fighting. Better that all of us should sleep the sleep of death forever than that some should suffer pain forever. If in order to have a heaven there must be a hell, then I say away with them both. My doctrine puts the bow of hope over every grave; my doctrine takes from every mother's heart the fear of hell. No good man would enjoy himself in heaven with his friends in hell. No good God could enjoy himself in heaven with millions of his poor, helpless mistakes in hell. The orthodox idea of heaven—with God an eternal inquisitor, a few heartless angels and some redeemed orthodox, all enjoying themselves, while the vast multitude will weep in the rayless gloom of God's eternal dungeon—is not calculated to make man good or happy. I am doing what I can to civilize the churches, humanize the preachers and get the fear of hell out of the human heart. In this business I am meeting with great success.

—Philadelphia Times, September 25, 1885.

SOME LIVE TOPICS.

Question. Shall you attend the Albany Freethought Convention?

Answer. I have agreed to be present not only, but to address the convention, on Sunday, the 13th of September. I am greatly gratified to know that the interest in the question of intellectual liberty is growing from year to year. Everywhere I go it seems to be the topic of conversation. No matter upon what subject people begin to talk, in a little while the discussion takes a religious turn, and people who a few moments before had not the slightest thought of saying a word about the churches, or about the Bible, are giving their opinions in full. I hear discussions of this kind in all the public conveyances, at the hotels, on the piazzas at the seaside—and they are not discussions in which I take any part, because I rarely say anything upon these questions except in public, unless I am directly addressed.

There is a general feeling that the church has ruled the world long enough. People are beginning to see that no amount of eloquence, or faith, or erudition, or authority, can make the records of barbarism satisfactory to the heart and brain of this century. They have also found that a falsehood in Hebrew in no more credible than in plain English. People at last are beginning to be satisfied that cruel laws were never good laws, no matter whether inspired or uninspired. The Christian religion, like every other religion depending upon inspired writings, is wrecked upon the facts of nature. So long as inspired writers confined themselves to the supernatural world; so long as they talked about angels and Gods and heavens and hells; so long as they described only things that man has never seen, and never will see, they were safe, not from contradiction, but from demonstration. But these writings had to have a foundation, even for their falsehoods, and that foundation was in Nature. The foundation had to be something about which somebody knew something, or supposed they knew something. They told something about this world that agreed with the then general opinion. Had these inspired writers told the truth about Nature— had they said that the world revolved on its axis, and made a circuit about the sun—they could have gained no credence for their statements about other worlds. They were forced to agree with their contemporaries about this world, and there is where they made the fundamental mistake. Having grown in knowledge, the world has discovered that these inspired men knew nothing about this earth; that the inspired books are filled with mistakes—not only mistakes that we can contradict, but mistakes that we can demonstrate to be mistakes. Had they told the truth in their day, about this earth, they would not have been believed about other worlds, because their contemporaries would have used their own knowledge about this world to test the knowledge of these inspired men. We pursue the same course; and what we know about this world we use as the standard, and by that standard we have found that the inspired men knew nothing about Nature as it is. Finding that they were mistaken about this world, we have no confidence in what they have said about another. Every religion has had its philosophy about this world, and every one has been mistaken. As education becomes general, as scientific modes are adopted, this will become clearer and clearer, until "ignorant as inspiration" will be a comparison.

Question. Have you seen the memorial to the New York Legislature, to be presented this winter, asking for the repeal of such laws as practically unite church and state?

Answer. I have seen a memorial asking that church property be taxed like other property; that no more money should be appropriated from the public treasury for the support of institutions managed by and in the interest of sectarian denominations; for the repeal of all laws compelling the observance of Sunday as a religious day. Such memorials ought to be addressed to the Legislatures of all the States. The money of the public should only be used for the benefit of the public. Public money should not be used for what a few gentlemen think is for the benefit of the public. Personally, I think it would be for the benefit of the public to have Infidel or scientific—which is the same thing—lectures delivered in every town, in every State, on every Sunday; but knowing that a great many men disagree with me on this point, I do not claim that such lectures ought to be paid for with public money. The Methodist Church ought not to be sustained by taxation, nor the Catholic, nor any other church. To relieve their property from taxation is to appropriate money, to the extent of that tax, for the support of that church. Whenever a burden is lifted from one piece of property, it is distributed over the rest of the property of the State, and to release one kind of property is to increase the tax on all other kinds.

There was a time when people really supposed the churches were saving souls from the eternal wrath of a God of infinite love. Being engaged in such a philanthropic work, and at the time nobody having the courage to deny it—the church being all-powerful—all other property was taxed to support the church; but now the more civilized part of the community, being satisfied that a God of infinite love will not be eternally unjust, feel as though the church should support herself. To exempt the church from taxation is to pay a part of the priest's salary. The Catholic now objects to being taxed to support a school in which his religion is not taught. He is not satisfied with the school that says nothing on the subject of religion. He insists that it is an outrage to tax him to support a school where the teacher simply teaches what he knows. And yet this same Catholic wants his church exempted from taxation, and the tax of an Atheist or of a Jew increased, when he teaches in his untaxed church that the Atheist and Jew will both be eternally damned! Is it possible for impudence to go further?

I insist that no religion should be taught in any school supported by public money; and by religion I mean superstition. Only that should be taught in a school that somebody can learn and that somebody can know. In my judgment, every church should be taxed precisely the same as other property. The church may claim that it is one of the instruments of civilization and therefore should be exempt. If you exempt that which is useful, you exempt every trade and every profession. In my judgment, theatres have done more to civilize mankind than churches; that is to say, theatres have done something to civilize mankind—churches nothing. The effect of all superstition has been to render men barbarous. I do not believe in the civilizing effects of falsehood.

There was a time when ministers were supposed to be in the employ of God, and it was thought that God selected them with great care —that their profession had something sacred about it. These ideas are no longer entertained by sensible people. Ministers should be paid like other professional men, and those who like their preaching should pay for the preach. They should depend, as actors do, upon their popularity, upon the amount of sense, or nonsense, that they have for sale. They should depend upon the market like other people, and if people do not want to hear sermons badly enough to build churches and pay for them, and pay the taxes on them, and hire the preacher, let the money be diverted to some other use. The pulpit should no longer be a pauper. I do not believe in carrying on any business with the contribution box. All the sectarian institutions ought to support themselves. These should be no Methodist or Catholic or Presbyterian hospitals or orphan asylums. All these should be supported by the State. There is no such thing as Catholic charity, or Methodist charity. Charity belongs to humanity, not to any particular form of faith or religion. You will find as charitable people who never heard of religion, as you can find in the church. The State should provide for those who ought to be provided for. A few Methodists beg of everybody they meet—send women with subscription papers, asking money from all classes of people, and nearly everybody gives something from politeness, or to keep from being annoyed; and when the institution is finished, it is pointed at as the result of Methodism.

Probably a majority of the people in this country suppose that there was no charity in the world until the Christian religion was founded. Great men have repeated this falsehood, until ignorance and thoughtlessness believe it. There were orphan asylums in China, in India, and in Egypt thousands of years before Christ was born; and there certainly never was a time in the history of the whole world when there was less charity in Europe than during the centuries when the Church of Christ had absolute power. There were hundreds of Mohammedan asylums before Christianity had built ten in the entire world.

All institutions for the care of unfortunate people should be secular—should be supported by the State. The money for the purpose should be raised by taxation, to the end that the burden may be borne by those able to bear it. As it is now, most of the money is paid, not by the rich, but by the generous, and those most able to help their needy fellow citizens are the very ones who do nothing. If the money is raised by taxation, then the burden will fall where it ought to fall, and these institutions will no longer be supported by the generous and emotional, and the rich and stingy will no longer be able to evade the duties of citizenship and of humanity.

Now, as to the Sunday laws, we know that they are only spasmodically enforced. Now and then a few people are arrested for selling papers or cigars. Some unfortunate barber is grabbed by a policeman because he has been caught shaving a Christian, Sunday morning. Now and then some poor fellow with a hack, trying to make a dollar or two to feed his horses, or to take care of his wife and children, is arrested as though he were a murderer. But in a few days the public are inconvenienced to that degree that the arrests stop and business goes on in its accustomed channels, Sunday and all.

Now and then society becomes so pious, so virtuous, that people are compelled to enter saloons by the back door; others are compelled to drink beer with the front shutters up; but otherwise the stream that goes down the thirsty throats is unbroken. The ministers have done their best to prevent all recreation on the Sabbath. They would like to stop all the boats on the Hudson, and on the sea— stop all the excursion trains. They would like to compel every human being that lives in the city of New York to remain within its limits twenty-four hours every Sunday. They hate the parks; they hate music; they hate anything that keeps a man away from church. Most of the churches are empty during the summer, and now most of the ministers leave themselves, and give over the entire city to the Devil and his emissaries. And yet if the ministers had their way, there would be no form of human enjoyment except prayer, signing subscription papers, putting money in contribution boxes, listening to sermons, reading the cheerful histories of the Old Testament, imagining the joys of heaven and the torments of hell. The church is opposed to the theatre, is the enemy of the opera, looks upon dancing as a crime, hates billiards, despises cards, opposes roller-skating, and even entertains a certain kind of prejudice against croquet.

Question. Do you think that the orthodox church gets its ideas of the Sabbath from the teachings of Christ?

Answer. I do not hold Christ responsible for these idiotic ideas concerning the Sabbath. He regarded the Sabbath as something made for man—which was a very sensible view. The holiest day is the happiest day. The most sacred day is the one in which have been done the most good deeds. There are two reasons given in the Bible for keeping the Sabbath. One is that God made the world in six days, and rested on the seventh. Now that all the ministers admit that he did not make the world in six days, but that he made it in six "periods," this reason is no longer applicable. The other reason is that he brought the Jews out of Egypt with a "mighty hand." This may be a very good reason still for the observance of the Sabbath by the Jews, but the real Sabbath, that is to say, the day to be commemorated, is our Saturday, and why should we commemorate the wrong day? That disposes of the second reason.

Nothing can be more inconsistent than the theories and practice of the churches about the Sabbath. The cars run Sundays, and out of the profits hundreds of ministers are supported. The great iron and steel works fill with smoke and fire the Sabbath air, and the proprietors divide the profits with the churches. The printers of the city are busy Sunday afternoons and evenings, and the presses during the nights, so that the sermons of Sunday can reach the heathen on Monday. The servants of the rich are denied the privileges of the sanctuary. The coachman sits on the box out-doors, while his employer kneels in church preparing himself for the heavenly chariot. The iceman goes about on the holy day, keeping believers cool, they knowing at the same time that he is making it hot for himself in the world to come. Christians cross the Atlantic, knowing that the ship will pursue its way on the Sabbath. They write letters to their friends knowing that they will be carried in violation of Jehovah's law, by wicked men. Yet they hate to see a pale-faced sewing girl enjoying a few hours by the sea; a poor mechanic walking in the fields; or a tired mother watching her children playing on the grass. Nothing ever was, nothing ever will be, more utterly absurd and disgusting than a Puritan Sunday. Nothing ever did make a home more hateful than the strict observance of the Sabbath. It fills the house with hypocrisy and the meanest kind of petty tyranny. The parents look sour and stern, the children sad and sulky. They are compelled to talk upon subjects about which they feel no interest, or to read books that are thought good only because they are so stupid.

Question. What have you to say about the growth of Catholicism, the activity of the Salvation Army, and the success of revivalists like the Rev. Samuel Jones? Is Christianity really gaining a strong hold on the masses?

Answer. Catholicism is growing in this country, and it is the only country on earth in which it is growing. Its growth here depends entirely upon immigration, not upon intellectual conquest. Catholic emigrants who leave their homes in the Old World because they have never had any liberty, and who are Catholics for the same reason, add to the number of Catholics here, but their children's children will not be Catholics. Their children will not be very good Catholics, and even these immigrants themselves, in a few years, will not grovel quite so low in the presence of a priest. The Catholic Church is gaining no ground in Catholic countries.

The Salvation Army is the result of two things—the general belief in what are known as the fundamentals of Christianity, and the heartlessness of the church. The church in England—that is to say, the Church of England—having succeeded—that is to say, being supported by general taxation—that is to say, being a successful, well-fed parasite—naturally neglected those who did not in any way contribute to its support. It became aristocratic. Splendid churches were built; younger sons with good voices were put in the pulpits; the pulpit became the asylum for aristocratic mediocrity, and in this way the Church of England lost interest in the masses and the masses lost interest in the Church of England. The neglected poor, who really had some belief in religion, and who had not been absolutely petrified by form and patronage, were ready for the Salvation Army. They were not at home in the church. They could not pay. They preferred the freedom of the street. They preferred to attend a church where rags were no objection. Had the church loved and labored with the poor the Salvation Army never would have existed. These people are simply giving their idea of Christianity, and in their way endeavoring to do what they consider good. I don't suppose the Salvation Army will accomplish much. To improve mankind you must change conditions. It is not enough to work simply upon the emotional nature. The surroundings must be such as naturally produce virtuous actions. If we are to believe recent reports from London, the Church of England, even with the assistance of the Salvation Army, has accomplished but little. It would be hard to find any country with less morality. You would search long in the jungles of Africa to find greater depravity.

I account for revivalists like the Rev. Samuel Jones in the same way. There is in every community an ignorant class—what you might call a literal class—who believe in the real blood atonement; who believe in heaven and hell, and harps and gridirons; who have never had their faith weakened by reading commentators or books harmonizing science and religion. They love to hear the good old doctrine; they want hell described; they want it described so that they can hear the moans and shrieks; they want heaven described; they want to see God on a throne, and they want to feel that they are finally to have the pleasure of looking over the battlements of heaven and seeing all their enemies among the damned. The Rev. Mr. Munger has suddenly become a revivalist. According to the papers he is sought for in every direction. His popularity seems to rest upon the fact that he brutally beat a girl twelve years old because she did not say her prayers to suit him. Muscular Christianity is what the ignorant people want. I regard all these efforts—including those made by Mr. Moody and Mr. Hammond—as evidence that Christianity, as an intellectual factor, has almost spent its force. It no longer governs the intellectual world.

Question. Are not the Catholics the least progressive? And are they not, in spite of their professions to the contrary, enemies to republican liberty?

Answer. Every church that has a standard higher than human welfare is dangerous. A church that puts a book above the laws and constitution of its country, that puts a book above the welfare of mankind, is dangerous to human liberty. Every church that puts itself above the legally expressed will of the people is dangerous. Every church that holds itself under greater obligation to a pope than to a people is dangerous to human liberty. Every church that puts religion above humanity—above the well-being of man in this world—is dangerous. The Catholic Church may be more dangerous, not because its doctrines are more dangerous, but because, on the average, its members more sincerely believe its doctrines, and because that church can be hurled as a solid body in any given direction. For these reasons it is more dangerous than other churches; but the doctrines are no more dangerous than those of the Protestant churches. The man who would sacrifice the well- being of man to please an imaginary phantom that he calls God, is also dangerous. The only safe standard is the well-being of man in this world. Whenever this world is sacrificed for the sake of another, a mistake has been made. The only God that man can know is the aggregate of all beings capable of suffering and of joy within the reach of his influence. To increase the happiness of such beings is to worship the only God that man can know.

Question. What have you to say to the assertion of Dr. Deems that there were never so many Christians as now?

Answer. I suppose that the population of the earth is greater now than at any other time within the historic period. This being so, there may be more Christians, so-called, in this world than there were a hundred years ago. Of course, the reverend doctor, in making up his aggregate of Christians, counts all kinds and sects—Unitarians, Universalists, and all the other "ans" and "ists" and "ics" and "ites" and "ers." But Dr. Deems must admit that only a few years ago most of the persons he now calls Christians would have been burnt as heretics and Infidels. Let us compare the average New York Christian with the Christian of two hundred years ago. It is probably safe to say that there is not now in the city of New York a genuine Presbyterian outside of an insane asylum. Probably no one could be found who will to-day admit that he believes absolutely in the Presbyterian Confession of Faith. There is probably not an Episcopalian who believes in the Thirty-nine Articles. Probably there is not an intelligent minister in the city of New York, outside of the Catholic Church, who believes that everything in the Bible is true. Probably no clergyman, of any standing, would be willing to take the ground that everything in the Old Testament—leaving out the question of inspiration—is actually true. Very few ministers now preach the doctrine of eternal punishment. Most of them would be ashamed to utter that brutal falsehood. A large majority of gentlemen who attend church take the liberty of disagreeing with the preacher. They would have been very poor Christians two hundred years ago. A majority of the ministers take the liberty of disagreeing, in many things, with their Presbyteries and Synods. They would have been very poor preachers two hundred years ago. Dr. Deems forgets that most Christians are only nominally so. Very few believe their creeds. Very few even try to live in accordance with what they call Christian doctrines. Nobody loves his enemies. No Christian when smitten on one cheek turns the other. Most Christians do take a little thought for the morrow. They do not depend entirely upon the providence of God. Most Christians now have greater confidence in the average life-insurance company than in God—feel easier when dying to know that they have a policy, through which they expect the widow will receive ten thousand dollars, than when thinking of all the Scripture promises. Even church-members do not trust in God to protect their own property. They insult heaven by putting lightning rods on their temples. They insure the churches against the act of God. The experience of man has shown the wisdom of relying on something that we know something about, instead of upon the shadowy supernatural. The poor wretches to-day in Spain, depending upon their priests, die like poisoned flies; die with prayers between their pallid lips; die in their filth and faith.

Question. What have you to say on the Mormon question?

Answer. The institution of polygamy is infamous and disgusting beyond expression. It destroys what we call, and all civilized people call, "the family." It pollutes the fireside, and, above all, as Burns would say, "petrifies the feeling." It is, however, one of the institutions of Jehovah. It is protected by the Bible. It has inspiration on its side. Sinai, with its barren, granite peaks, is a perpetual witness in its favor. The beloved of God practiced it, and, according to the sacred word, the wisest man had, I believe, about seven hundred wives. This man received his wisdom directly from God. It is hard for the average Bible worshiper to attack this institution without casting a certain stain upon his own book.

Only a few years ago slavery was upheld by the same Bible. Slavery having been abolished, the passages in the inspired volume upholding it have been mostly forgotten, but polygamy lives, and the polygamists, with great volubility, repeat the passages in their favor. We send our missionaries to Utah, with their Bibles, to convert the Mormons.

The Mormons show, by these very Bibles, that God is on their side. Nothing remain now for the missionaries except to get back their Bibles and come home. The preachers do not appeal to the Bible for the purpose of putting down Mormonism. They say: "Send the army." If the people of this country could only be honest; if they would only admit that the Old Testament is but the record of a barbarous people; if the Samson of the nineteenth century would not allow its limbs to be bound by the Delilah of superstition, it could with one blow destroy this monster. What shall we say of the moral force of Christianity, when it utterly fails in the presence of Mormonism? What shall we say of a Bible that we dare not read to a Mormon as an argument against legalized lust, or as an argument against illegal lust?

I am opposed to polygamy. I want it exterminated by law; but I hate to see the exterminators insist that God, only a few thousand years ago, was as bad as the Mormons are to-day. In my judgment, such a God ought to be exterminated.

Question. What do you think of men like the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher and the Rev. R. Heber Newton? Do they deserve any credit for the course they have taken?

Answer. Mr. Beecher is evidently endeavoring to shore up the walls of the falling temple. He sees the cracks; he knows that the building is out of plumb; he feels that the foundation is insecure. Lies can take the place of stones only so long as they are thoroughly believed. Mr. Beecher is trying to do something to harmonize superstition and science. He is reading between the lines. He has discovered that Darwin is only a later Saint Paul, or that Saint Paul was the original Darwin. He is endeavoring to make the New Testament a scientific text-book. Of course he will fail. But his intentions are good. Thousands of people will read the New Testament with more freedom than heretofore. They will look for new meanings; and he who looks for new meanings will not be satisfied with the old ones. Mr. Beecher, instead of strengthening the walls, will make them weaker.

There is no harmony between religion and science. When science was a child, religion sought to strangle it in the cradle. Now that science has attained its youth, and superstition is in its dotage, the trembling, palsied wreck says to the athlete: "Let us be friends." It reminds me of the bargain the cock wished to make with the horse: "Let us agree not to step on each other's feet." Mr. Beecher, having done away with hell, substitutes annihilation. His doctrine at present is that only a fortunate few are immortal, and that the great mass return to dreamless dust. This, of course, is far better than hell, and is a great improvement on the orthodox view. Mr. Beecher cannot believe that God would make such a mistake as to make men doomed to suffer eternal pain. Why, I ask, should God give life to men whom he knows are unworthy of life? Why should he annihilate his mistakes? Why should he make mistakes that need annihilation?

It can hardly be said that Mr. Beecher's idea is a new one. It was taught, with an addition, thousands of years ago, in India, and the addition almost answers my objection. The old doctrine was that only the soul that bears fruit, only the soul that bursts into blossom, will at the death of the body rejoin the Infinite, and that all other souls—souls not having blossomed—will go back into low forms and make the journey up to man once more, and should they then blossom and bear fruit, will be held worthy to join the Infinite, but should they again fail, they again go back; and this process is repeated until they do blossom, and in this way all souls at last become perfect. I suggest that Mr. Beecher make at least this addition to his doctrine.

But allow me to say that, in my judgment, Mr. Beecher is doing great good. He may not convince many people that he is right, but he will certainly convince a great many people that Christianity is wrong.

Question. In what estimation do you hold Charles Watts and Samuel Putnam, and what do you think of their labors in the cause of Freethought?

Answer. Mr. Watts is an extremely logical man, with a direct and straightforward manner and mind. He has paid great attention to what is called "Secularism." He thoroughly understands organization, and he is undoubtedly one of the strongest debaters in the field. He has had great experience. He has demolished more divines than any man of my acquaintance. I have read several of his debates. In discussion he is quick, pertinent, logical, and, above all, good natured.

There is not in all he says a touch of malice. He can afford to be generous to his antagonists, because he is always the victor, and is always sure of the victory. Last winter wherever I went, I heard the most favorable accounts of Mr. Watts. All who heard him were delighted.

Mr. Putnam is one of the most thorough believers in intellectual liberty in the world. He believes with all his heart, is full of enthusiasm, ready to make any sacrifice, and to endure any hardship. Had he lived a few years ago, he would have been a martyr. He has written some of the most stirring appeals to the Liberals of this country that I have ever read. He believes that Freethought has a future; that the time is coming when the superstitions of the world will either be forgotten, or remembered—some of them with smiles—most of them with tears. Mr. Putnam, although endowed with a poetic nature, with poetic insight, clings to the known, builds upon the experience of man, and believes in fancies only when they are used as the wings of a fact. I have never met a man who appeared to be more thoroughly devoted to the great cause of mental freedom. I have read his books with great interest, and find in them many pages filled with philosophy and pathos. I have met him often and I never heard him utter a harsh word about any human being. His good nature is as unfailing as the air. His abilities are of the highest order. It is a positive pleasure to meet him. He is so enthusiastic, so unselfish, so natural, so appreciative of others, so thoughtful for the cause, and so careless of himself, that he compels the admiration of every one who really loves the just and true.

—The Truth Seeker, New York, September 5, 1885.

THE PRESIDENT AND SENATE.

Question. What have you to say with reference to the respective attitudes of the President and Senate?

Answer. I don't think there is any doubt as to the right of the Senate to call on the President for information. Of course that means for what information he has. When a duty devolves upon two persons, one of them has no right to withhold any facts calculated to throw any light on the question that both are to decide. The President cannot appoint any officer who has to be confirmed by the Senate; he can simply nominate. The Senate cannot even suggest a name; it can only pass upon the person nominated. If it is called upon for counsel and advice, how can it give advice without knowing the facts and circumstances? The President must have a reason for wishing to make a change. He should give that reason to the Senate without waiting to be asked. He has assured the country that he is a civil service reformer; that no man is to be turned out because he is a Republican, and no man appointed because he is a Democrat. Now, the Senate has given the President an opportunity to prove that he has acted as he has talked. If the President feels that he is bound to carry out the civil-service law, ought not the Senate to feel in the same way? Is it not the duty of the Senate to see to it that the President does not, with its advice and consent, violate the civil service law? Is the consent of the Senate a mere matter of form? In these appointments the President is not independent of or above the Senate; they are equal, and each has the right to be "honor bright" with the other, at least.

As long as this foolish law is unrepealed it must be carried out. Neither party is in favor of civil service reform, and never was. The Republican party did not carry it out, and did not intend to. The President has the right to nominate. Under the law as it is now, when the President wants to appoint a clerk, or when one of his secretaries wants one, four names are sent, and from these four names a choice has to be made. This is clearly an invasion of the rights of the Executive. If they have the right to compel the President to choose from four, why not from three, or two? Why not name the one, and have done with it? The law is worse than unconstitutional—it is absurd.

But in this contest the Senate, in my judgment, is right. In my opinion, by the time Cleveland goes out most of the offices will be filled with Democrats. If the Republicans succeed next time, I know, and everybody knows, that they will never rest easy until they get the Democrats out. They will shout "offensive partisanship." The truth is, the theory is wrong. Every citizen should take an interest in politics. A good man should not agree to keep silent just for the sake of an office. A man owes his best thoughts to his country. If he ought to defend his country in time of war, and under certain circumstances give his life for it, can we say that in time of peace he is under no obligation to discharge what he believes to be a duty, if he happens to hold an office? Must he sell his birthright for the sake of being a doorkeeper? The whole doctrine is absurd and never will be carried out.

Question. What do you think as to the presidential race?

Answer. That is a good way off. I think the people can hardly be roused to enthusiasm by the old names. Our party must take another step forward. We cannot live on what we have done; we must seek power for the sake, not of power, but for the accomplishment of a purpose. We must reform the tariff. We must settle the question of silver. We must have sense enough to know what the country needs, and courage enough to tell it. By reforming the tariff, I mean protect that and that only that needs protection— laws for the country and not for the few. We want honest money; we want a dollar's worth of gold in a silver dollar, and a dollar's worth of silver in a gold dollar. We want to make them of equal value. Bi-metallism does not mean that eighty cents' worth of silver is worth one hundred in gold. The Republican party must get back its conscience and be guided by it in deciding the questions that arise. Great questions are pressing for solution. Thousands of working people are in want. Business is depressed. The future is filled with clouds. What does the Republican party propose? Must we wait for mobs to inaugurate reform? Must we depend on police or statesmen? Should we wait and crush by brute force or should we prevent?

The toilers demand that eight hours should constitute a day's work. Upon this question what does our party say? Labor saving machines ought to lighten the burdens of the laborers. It will not do to say "over production" and keep on inventing machines and refuse to shorten the hours. What does our party say? The rich can take care of themselves if the mob will let them alone, and there will be no mob if there is no widespread want. Hunger is a communist. The next candidate of the Republican party must be big enough and courageous enough to answer these questions. If we find that kind of a candidate we shall succeed—if we do not, we ought not.

—Chicago Inter-Ocean, February, 1886.

ATHEISM AND CITIZENSHIP.

Question. Have you noticed the decision of Mr. Nathaniel Jarvis, Jr., clerk of the Naturalization Bureau of the Court of Common Pleas, that an Atheist cannot become a citizen?

Answer. Yes, but I do not think it necessary for a man to be a theist in order to become or to remain a citizen of this country. The various laws, from 1790 up to 1828, provided that the person wishing to be naturalized might make oath or affirmation. The first exception you will find in the Revised Statutes of the United States passed in 1873-74, section 2,165, as follows:—"An alien may be admitted to become a citizen of the United States in the following manner, and not otherwise:—First, he shall declare on oath, before a Circuit or District Court of the United States, etc." I suppose Mr. Jarvis felt it to be his duty to comply with this section. In this section there is nothing about affirmation —only the word "oath" is used—and Mr. Jarvis came to the conclusion that an Atheist could not take an oath, and, therefore, could not declare his intention legally to become a citizen of the United States. Undoubtedly Mr. Jarvis felt it his duty to stand by the law and to see to it that nobody should become a citizen of this country who had not a well defined belief in the existence of a being that he could not define and that no man has ever been able to define. In other words, that he should be perfectly convinced that there is a being "without body, parts or passions," who presides over the destinies of this world, and more especially those of New York in and about that part known as City Hall Park.

Question. Was not Mr. Jarvis right in standing by the law?

Answer. If Mr. Jarvis is right, neither Humboldt nor Darwin could have become a citizen of the United States. Wagner, the greatest of musicians, not being able to take an oath, would have been left an alien. Under this ruling Haeckel, Spencer and Tyndall would be denied citizenship—that is to say, the six greatest men produced by the human race in the nineteenth century, were and are unfit to be citizens of the United States. Those who have placed the human race in debt cannot be citizens of the Republic. On the other hand, the ignorant wife beater, the criminal, the pauper raised in the workhouse, could take the necessary oath and would be welcomed by New York "with arms outstretched as she would fly."

Question. You have quoted one statute. Is there no other applicable to this case?

Answer. I am coming to that. If Mr. Jarvis will take the pains to read not only the law of naturalization in section 2,165 of the Revised Statutes of the United States, but the very first chapter in the book, "Title I.," he will find in the very first section this sentence: "The requirements of any 'oath' shall be deemed complied with by making affirmation in official form." This applies to section 2,165. Of course an Atheist can affirm, and the statute provides that wherever an oath is required affirmation may be made.

Question. Did you read the recent action of Judge O'Gorman, of the Superior Court, in refusing naturalization papers to an applicant because he had not read the Constitution of the United States?

Answer. I did. The United States Constitution is a very important document, a good, sound document, but it is talked about a great deal more than it is read. I'll venture that you may commence at the Battery to interview merchants and other business men about the Constitution and you will talk with a hundred before you will find one who has ever read it.

—New York Herald, August 8, 1886.

THE LABOR QUESTION.

Question. What is your remedy, Colonel, for the labor troubles of the day?

Answer. One remedy is this: I should like to see the laboring men succeed. I should like to see them have a majority in Congress and with a President of their own. I should like to see this so that they could satisfy themselves how little, after all, can be accomplished by legislation. The moment responsibility should touch their shoulders they would become conservative. They would find that making a living in this world is an individual affair, and that each man must look out for himself. They would soon find that the Government cannot take care of the people. The people must support the Government. Everything cannot be regulated by law. The factors entering into this problem are substantially infinite and beyond the intellectual grasp of any human being. Perhaps nothing in the world will convince the laboring man how little can be accomplished by law until there is opportunity of trying. To discuss the question will do good, so I am in favor of its discussion. To give the workingmen a trial will do good, so I am in favor of giving them a trial.

Question. But you have not answered my question: I asked you what could be done, and you have told me what could not be done. Now, is there not some better organization of society that will help in this trouble?

Answer. Undoubtedly. Unless humanity is a failure, society will improve from year to year and from age to age. There will be, as the years go by, less want, less injustice, and the gifts of nature will be more equally divided, but there will never come a time when the weak can do as much as the strong, or when the mentally weak can accomplish as much as the intellectually strong. There will forever be inequality in society; but, in my judgment, the time will come when an honest, industrious person need not want. In my judgment, that will come, not through governmental control, not through governmental slavery, not through what is called Socialism, but through liberty and through individuality. I can conceive of no greater slavery than to have everything done by the Government. I want free scope given to individual effort. In time some things that governments have done will be removed. The creation of a nobility, the giving of vast rights to corporations, and the bestowment of privileges on the few will be done away with. In other words, governmental interference will cease and man will be left more to himself. The future will not do away with want by charity, which generally creates more want than it alleviates, but by justice and intelligence. Shakespeare says, "There is no darkness but ignorance," and it might be added that ignorance is the mother of most suffering.

—The Enquirer, Cincinnati, Ohio, September 30, 1886.

RAILROADS AND POLITICS.

Question. You are intimately acquainted with the great railroad managers and the great railroad systems, and what do you think is the great need of the railways to-day?

Answer. The great need of the railroads to-day is more business, more cars, better equipments, better pay for the men and less gambling in Wall Street.

Question. Is it your experience that public men usually ride on passes?

Answer. Yes, whenever they can get them. Passes are for the rich. Only those are expected to pay who can scarcely afford it. Nothing shortens a journey, nothing makes the road as smooth, nothing keeps down the dust and keeps out the smoke like a pass.

Question. Don't you think that the pass system is an injustice —that is, that ordinary travelers are taxed for the man who rides on a pass?

Answer. Certainly, those who pay, pay for those who do not. This is one of the misfortunes of the obscure. It is so with everything. The big fish live on the little ones.

Question. Are not parallel railroads an evil?

Answer. No, unless they are too near together. Competition does some good and some harm, but it must exist. All these things must be left to take care of themselves. If the Government interferes it is at the expense of the manhood and liberty of the people.

Question. But wouldn't it be better for the people if the railroads were managed by the Government as is the Post-Office?

Answer. No, everything that individual can do should be left to them. If the Government takes charge of the people they become weak and helpless. The people should take charge of the Government. Give the folks a chance.

Question. In the next presidential contest what will be the main issue?

Answer. The Maine issue!

Question. Would you again refuse to take the stump for Mr. Blaine if he should be renominated, and if so, why?

Answer. I do not expect to take the stump for anybody. Mr. Blaine is probably a candidate, and if he is nominated there will be plenty of people on the stump—or fence—or up a tree or somewhere in the woods.

Question. What are the most glaring mistakes of Cleveland's administration?

Answer. First, accepting the nomination. Second, taking the oath of office. Third, not resigning.

—Times Star, Cincinnati, September 30, 1886.

PROHIBITION.

Question. How much importance do you attach to the present prohibition movement?

Answer. No particular importance. I am opposed to prohibition and always have been, and hope always to be. I do not want the Legislature to interfere in these matters. I do not believe that the people can be made temperate by law. Men and women are not made great and good by the law. There is no good in the world that cannot be abused. Prohibition fills the world with spies and tattlers, and, besides that, where a majority of the people are not in favor of it the law will not be enforced; and where a majority of the people are in favor of it there is not much need of the law. Where a majority are against it, juries will violate their oath, and witnesses will get around the truth, and the result is demoralization. Take wine and malt liquors out of the world and we shall lose a vast deal of good fellowship; the world would lose more than it would gain. There is a certain sociability about wine that I should hate to have taken from the earth. Strong liquors the folks had better let alone. If prohibition succeeds, and wines and malt liquors go, the next thing will be to take tobacco away, and the next thing all other pleasures, until prayer meetings will be the only places of enjoyment.

Question. Do you care to say who your choice is for Republican nominee for President in 1888?

Answer. I now promise that I will answer this question either in May or June, 1888. At present my choice is not fixed, and is liable to change at any moment, and I need to leave it free, so that it can change from time to time as the circumstances change. I will, however, tell you privately that I think it will probably be a new man, somebody on whom the Republicans can unite. I have made a good many inquiries myself to find out who this man is to be, but in every instance the answer has been determined by the location in which the gentleman lived who gave the answer. Let us wait.

Question. Do you think the Republican party should take a decided stand on the temperance issue?

Answer. I do; and that decided stand should be that temperance is an individual question, something with which the State and Nation have nothing to do. Temperance is a thing that the law cannot control. You might as well try to control music, painting, sculpture, or metaphysics, as the question of temperance. As life becomes more valuable, people will learn to take better care of it. There is something more to be desired even than temperance, and that is liberty. I do not believe in putting out the sun because weeds grow. I should rather have some weeds than go without wheat and corn. The Republican party should represent liberty and individuality; it should keep abreast of the real spirit of the age; the Republican party ought to be intelligent enough to know that progress has been marked not by the enactment of new laws, but by the repeal of old ones.

—Evening Traveler, Boston, October, 1886.

HENRY GEORGE AND LABOR.

Question. It is said, Colonel Ingersoll, that you are for Henry George?

Answer. Of course; I think it the duty of the Republicans to defeat the Democracy—a solemn duty—and I believe that they have a chance to elect George; that is to say, an opportunity to take New York from their old enemy. If the Republicans stand by George he will succeed. All the Democratic factions are going to unite to beat the workingmen. What a picture! Now is the time for the Republicans to show that all their sympathies are not given to bankers, corporations and millionaires. They were on the side of the slave—they gave liberty to millions. Let them take another step and extend their hands to the sons of toil.

My heart beats with those who bear the burdens of this poor world.

Question. Do you not think that capital is entitled to protection?

Answer. I am in favor of accomplishing all reforms in a legal and orderly way, and I want the laboring people of this country to appeal to the ballot. All classes and all interests must be content to abide the result.

I want the laboring people to show that they are intelligent enough to stand by each other. Henry George is their natural leader. Let them be true to themselves by being true to him. The great questions between capital and labor must be settled peaceably. There is no excuse for violence, and no excuse for contempt and scorn. No country can be prosperous while the workers want and the idlers waste. Those who do the most should have the most. There is no civilized country, so far as I know, but I believe there will be, and I want to hasten they day when the map of the world will give the boundaries of that blessed land.

Question. Do you agree with George's principles? Do you believe in socialism?

Answer. I do not understand that George is a Socialist. He is on the side of those that work—so am I. He wants to help those that need help—so do I. The rich can take care of themselves. I shed no tears over the miseries of capital. I think of the men in mines and factories, in huts, hovels and cellars; of the poor sewing women; of the poor, the hungry and the despairing. The world must be made better through intelligence. I do not go with the destroyers, with those that hate the successful, that hate the generous, simply because they are rich. Wealth is the surplus produced by labor, and the wealth of the world should keep the world from want.

—New York Herald, October 13, 1886.

LABOR QUESTION AND SOCIALISM.

Question. What do you think of Henry George for mayor?

Answer. Several objections have been urged, not to what Mr. George has done, but to what Mr. George has thought, and he is the only candidate up to this time against whom a charge of this character could be made. Among other things, he seems to have entertained an idea to the effect that a few men should not own the entire earth; that a child coming into the world has a right to standing room, and that before he walks, his mother has a right to standing room while she holds him. He insists that if it were possible to bottle the air, and sell it as we do mineral water, it would be hardly fair for the capitalists of the world to embark in such a speculation, especially where millions were allowed to die simply because they were not able to buy breath at "pool prices." Mr. George seems to think that the time will come when capital will be intelligent enough and civilized enough to take care of itself. He has a dream that poverty and crime and all the evils that go hand in hand with partial famine, with lack of labor, and all the diseases born of living in huts and cellars, born of poor food and poor clothing and of bad habits, will disappear, and that the world will be really fit to live in. He goes so far as to insist that men ought to have more than twenty-three or twenty-four dollars a month for digging coal, and that they ought not to be compelled to spend that money in the store or saloon of the proprietor of the mine. He has also stated on several occasions that a man ought not to drive a street car for sixteen or eighteen hours a day—that even a street-car driver ought to have the privilege now and then of seeing his wife, or at least one of the children, awake. And he has gone so far as to say that a letter-carrier ought not to work longer in each day for the United States than he would for a civilized individual.

To people that imagine that this world is already perfection; that the condition of no one should be bettered except their own, these ideas seem dangerous. A man who has already amassed a million, and who has no fear for the future, and who says: "I will employ the cheapest labor and make men work as long as they can possibly endure the toil," will regard Mr. George as an impractical man. It is very probable that all of us will be dead before all the theories of Mr. George are put in practice. Some of them, however, may at some time benefit mankind; and so far as I am concerned, I am willing to help hasten the day, although it may not come while I live. I do not know that I agree with many of the theories of Mr. George. I know that I do not agree with some of them. But there is one thing in which I do agree with him, and that is, in his effort to benefit the human race, in his effort to do away with some of the evils that now afflict mankind. I sympathize with him in his endeavor to shorten the hours of labor, to increase the well- being of laboring men, to give them better houses, better food, and in every way to lighten the burdens that now bear upon their bowed backs. It may be that very little can be done by law, except to see that they are not absolutely abused; to see that the mines in which they work are supplied with air and with means of escape in time of danger; to prevent the deforming of children by forcing upon them the labor of men; to shorten the hours of toil, and to give all laborers certain liens, above all other claims, for their work. It is easy to see that in this direction something may be done by law.

Question. Colonel Ingersoll, are you a Socialist?

Answer. I am an Individualist instead of a Socialist. I am a believer in individuality and in each individual taking care of himself, and I want the Government to do just as little as it can consistently with the safety of the nation, and I want as little law as possible—only as much as will protect life, reputation and property by punishing criminals and by enforcing honest contracts. But if a government gives privileges to a few, the few must not oppress the many. The Government has no right to bestow any privilege upon any man or upon any corporation, except for the public good. That which is a special privilege to the few, should be a special benefit to the many. And whenever the privileged few abuse the privilege so that it becomes a curse to the many, the privilege, whatever it is, should be withdrawn. I do not pretend to know enough to suggest a remedy for all the evils of society. I doubt if one human mind could take into consideration the almost infinite number of factors entering into such a problem. And this fact that no one knows, is the excuse for trying. While I may not believe that a certain theory will work, still, if I feel sure it will do no harm, I am willing to see it tried.

Question. Do you think that Mr. George would make a good mayor?

Answer. I presume he would. He is a thoughtful, prudent man. His reputation for honesty has never, so far as I know, been called in question. It certainly does not take a genius to be mayor of New York. If so, there have been some years when there was hardly a mayor. I take it that a clear-headed, honest man, whose only object is to do his duty, and with courage enough to stand by his conscience, would make a good mayor of New York or of any other city.

Question. Are you in sympathy with the workingmen and their objects?

Answer. I am in sympathy with laboring men of all kinds, whether they labor with hand or brain. The Knights of Labor, I believe, do not allow a lawyer to become a member. I am somewhat wider in my sympathies. No men in the world struggle more heroically; no men in the world have suffered more, or carried a heavier cross, or worn a sharper crown of thorns, than those that have produced what we call the literature of our race. So my sympathies extend all the way from hod-carriers to sculptors; from well-diggers to astronomers. If the objects of the laboring men are to improve their condition without injuring others; to have homes and firesides, and wives and children; plenty to eat, good clothes to wear; to develop their minds, to educate their children—in short, to become prosperous and civilized, I sympathize with them, and hope they will succeed. I have not the slightest sympathy with those that wish to accomplish all these objects through brute force. A Nihilist may be forgiven in Russia—may even be praised in Russia; a Socialist may be forgiven in Germany; and certainly a Home-ruler can be pardoned in Ireland, but in the United States there is no place for Anarchist, Socialist or Dynamiter. In this country the political power has been fairly divided. Poverty has just as many votes as wealth. No man can be so poor as not to have a ballot; no man is rich enough to have two; and no man can buy another vote, unless somebody is mean enough and contemptible enough to sell; and if he does sell his vote, he never should complain about the laws or their administration. So the foolish and the wise are on an equality, and the political power of this country is divided so that each man is a sovereign.

Now, the laboring people are largely in the majority in this country. If there are any laws oppressing them, they should have them repealed. I want the laboring people—and by the word "laboring" now, I include only the men that they include by that word—to unite; I want them to show that they have the intelligence to act together, and sense enough to vote for a friend. I want them to convince both the other great parties that they cannot be purchased. This will be an immense step in the right direction.

I have sometimes thought that I should like to see the laboring men in power, so that they would realize how little, after all, can be done by law. All that any man should ask, so far as the Government is concerned, is a fair chance to compete with his neighbors. Personally, I am for the abolition of all special privileges that are not for the general good. My principal hope of the future is the civilization of my race; the development not only of the brain, but of the heart. I believe the time will come when we shall stop raising failures, when we shall know something of the laws governing human beings. I believe the time will come when we shall not produce deformed persons, natural criminals. In other words, I think the world is going to grow better and better. This may not happen to this nation or to what we call our race, but it may happen to some other race, and all that we do in the right direction hastens that day and that race.

Question. Do you think that the old parties are about to die?

Answer. It is very hard to say. The country is not old enough for tables of mortality to have been calculated upon parties. I suppose a party, like anything else, has a period of youth, of manhood and decay. The Democratic party is not dead. Some men grow physically strong as they grow mentally weak. The Democratic party lived out of office, and in disgrace, for twenty-five years, and lived to elect a President. If the Democratic party could live on disgrace for twenty-five years it now looks as though the Republican party, on the memory of its glory and of its wonderful and unparalleled achievements, might manage to creep along for a few years more.

—New York World, October 26, 1886.

HENRY GEORGE AND SOCIALISM.

Question. What is your opinion of the result of the election?

Answer. I find many dead on the field whose faces I recognize. I see that Morrison has taken a "horizontal" position. Free trade seems to have received an exceedingly black eye. Carlisle, in my judgment, one of the very best men in Congress, has been defeated simply because he is a free trader, and I suppose you can account for Hurd's defeat in the same way. The people believe in protection although they generally admit that the tariff ought to be reformed. I believe in protecting "infant industries," but I do not believe in rocking the cradle when the infant is seven feet high and wears number twelve boots.

Question. Do you sympathize with the Socialists, or do you think that the success of George would promote socialism?

Answer. I have said frequently that if I lived in Russia I should in all probability be a Nihilist. I can conceive of no government that would not be as good as that of Russia, and I would consider no government far preferable to that government. Any possible state of anarchy is better than organized crime, because in the chaos of anarchy justice may be done by accident, but in a government organized for the perpetuation of slavery, and for the purpose of crushing out of the human brain every noble thought, justice does not live. In Germany I would probably be a Socialist—to this extent, that I would want the political power honestly divided among the people. I can conceive of no circumstance in which I could support Bismarck. I regard Bismarck as a projection of the Middle Ages, as a shadow that has been thrown across the sunlight of modern civilization, and in that shadow grow all the bloodless crimes. Now, in Ireland, of course, I believe in home rule. In this country I am an Individualist. The political power here is equally divided. Poverty and wealth have the same power at the ballot-box. Intelligence and ignorance are on an equality here, simply because all men have a certain interest in the government where they live. I hate above all other things the tyranny of a government. I do not want a government to send a policeman along with me to keep me from buying eleven eggs for a dozen. I will take care of myself. I want the people to do everything they can do, and the Government to keep its hands off, because if the Government attends to all these matters the people lose manhood, and in a little while become serfs, and there will arise some strong mind and some powerful hand that will reduce them to actual slavery. So I am in favor or personal liberty to the largest extent. Whenever the Government grants privileges to the few, these privileges should be for the benefit of the many, and when they cease to be for the benefit of the many, they should be taken from the few and used by the government itself for the benefit of the whole people. And I want to see in this country the Government so administered that justice will be done to all as nearly as human institutions can produce such a result. Now, I understand that in any state of society there will be failures. We have failures among the working people. We have had some failures in Congress. I will not mention the names, because your space is limited. There have been failures in the pulpit, at the bar; in fact, in every pursuit of life you will presume we shall have failures with us for a great while; at least until the establishment of the religion of the body, when we shall cease to produce failures; and I have faith enough in the human race to believe that that time will come, but I do not expect it during my life.

Question. What do you think of the income tax as a step toward the accomplishment of what you desire?

Answer. There are some objections to an income tax. First, the espionage that it produces on the part of the Government. Second, the amount of perjury that it annually produces. Men hate to have their business inquired into if they are not doing well. They often pay a very large tax to make their creditors think they are prosperous. Others by covering up, avoid the tax. But I will say this with regard to taxation: The great desideratum is stability. If we tax only the land, and that were the only tax, in a little while every other thing, and the value of every other thing, would adjust itself in relation to that tax, and perfect justice would be the result. That is to say, if it were stable long enough the burden would finally fall upon the right backs in every department. The trouble with taxation is that it is continually changing—not waiting for the adjustment that will naturally follow provided it is stable. I think the end, so far as land is concerned, could be reached by cumulative taxation—that is to say, a man with a certain amount of land paying a very small per cent., with more land, and increased per cent., and let that per cent. increase rapidly enough so that no man could afford to hold land that he did not have a use for. So I believe in cumulative taxation in regard to any kind of wealth. Let a man worth ten million dollars pay a greater per cent. than one worth one hundred thousand, because he is able to pay it. The other day a man was talking to me about having the dead pay the expenses of the Government; that whenever a man died worth say five million dollars, one million should go to the Government; that if he died worth ten million dollars, three millions should go to the Government; if he died worth twenty million dollars, eight million should go to the Government, and so on. He said that in this way the expenses of the Government could be borne by the dead. I should be in favor of cumulative taxation upon legacies— the greater the legacy, the greater the per cent. of taxation.

But, of course, I am not foolish enough to suppose that I understand these questions. I am giving you a few guesses. My only desire is to guess right. I want to see the people of this world live for this world, and I hope the time will come when a civilized man will understand that he cannot be perfectly happy while anybody else is miserable; that a perfectly civilized man could not enjoy a dinner knowing that others were starving; that he could not enjoy the richest robes if he knew that some of his fellow-men in rags and tatters were shivering in the blast. In other words, I want to carry out the idea there that I have so frequently uttered with regard to the other world; that is, that no gentleman angel could be perfectly happy knowing that somebody else was in hell.

Question. What are the chances for the Republican party in 1888?

Answer. If it will sympathize with the toilers, as it did with the slaves; if it will side with the needy; if it will only take the right side it will elect the next President. The poor should not resort to violence; the rich should appeal to the intelligence of the working people. These questions cannot be settled by envy and scorn. The motto of both parties should be: "Come, let us reason together." The Republican party was the grandest organization that ever existed. It was brave, intelligent and just. It sincerely loved the right. A certificate of membership was a patent of nobility. If it will only stand by the right again, its victorious banner will float over all the intelligent sons of toil.

—The Times, Chicago, Illinois, November 4, 1886.

REPLY TO THE REV. B. F. MORSE.*

     [* At the usual weekly meeting of the Baptist ministers at
     the Publication Rooms yesterday, the Rev. Dr. B. F. Morse
     read an essay on "Christianity vs. Materialism."  His
     contention was that all nature showed that design, not
     evolution, was its origin.

     In his concluding remarks Dr. Morse said that he knew from
     unquestionable authority, that Robert G. Ingersoll did not
     believe what he uttered in his lectures, and that to get out
     of a financial embarrassment he looked around for a money
     making scheme that could be put into immediate execution.
     To lecture against Christianity was the most rapid way of
     giving him the needed cash and, what was quite as acceptable
     to him, at the same time, notoriety.]

This aquatic or web-footed theologian who expects to go to heaven by diving is not worth answering. Nothing can be more idiotic than to answer an argument by saying he who makes it does not believe it. Belief has nothing to do with the cogency or worth of an argument. There is another thing. This man, or rather this minister, says that I attacked Christianity simply to make money. Is it possible that, after preachers have had the field for eighteen hundred years, the way to make money is to attack the clergy? Is this intended as a slander against me or the ministers?

The trouble is that my arguments cannot be answered. All the preachers in the world cannot prove that slavery is better than liberty. They cannot show that all have not an equal right to think. They cannot show that all have not an equal right to express their thoughts. They cannot show that a decent God will punish a decent man for making the best guess he can. This is all there is about it.

—The Herald, New York, December 14, 1886.

INGERSOLL ON McGLYNN.

The attitude of the Roman Catholic Church in Dr. McGlynn's case is consistent with the history and constitution of the Catholic Church —perfectly consistent with its ends, its objects, and its means— and just as perfectly inconsistent with intellectual liberty and the real civilization of the human race.

When a man becomes a Catholic priest, he has been convinced that he ought not to think for himself upon religious questions. He has become convinced that the church is the only teacher—that he has a right to think only to enforce its teachings. From that moment he is a moral machine. The chief engineer resides at Rome, and he gives his orders through certain assistant engineers until the one is reached who turns the crank, and the machine has nothing to do one way or the other. This machine is paid for giving up his liberty by having machines under him who have also given up theirs. While somebody else turns his crank, he has the pleasure of turning a crank belonging to somebody below him.

Of course, the Catholic Church is supposed to be the only perfect institution on earth. All others are not only imperfect, but unnecessary. All others have been made either by man, or by the Devil, or by a partnership, and consequently cannot be depended upon for the civilization of man.

The Catholic Church gets its power directly from God, and is the only institution now in the world founded by God. There was never any other, so far as I know, except polygamy and slavery and a crude kind of monarchy, and they have been, for the most part, abolished.

The Catholic Church must be true to itself. It must claim everything, and get what it can. It alone is infallible. It alone has all the wisdom of this world. It alone has the right to exist. All other interests are secondary. To be a Catholic is of the first importance. Human liberty is nothing. Wealth, position, food, clothing, reputation, happiness—all these are less than worthless compared with what the Catholic Church promises to the man who will throw all these away.

A priest must preach what his bishop tells him. A bishop must preach what his archbishop tells him. The pope must preach what he says God tells him.

Dr. McGlynn cannot make a compromise with the Catholic Church. It never compromises when it is in the majority.

I do not mean by this that the Catholic Church is worse than any other. All are alike in this regard. Every sect, no matter how insignificant; every church, no matter how powerful, asks precisely the same thing from every member—that is to say, a surrender of intellectual freedom. The Catholic Church wants the same as the Baptist, the Presbyterian, and the Methodist—it wants the whole earth. It is ambitious to be the one supreme power. It hopes to see the world upon its knees, with all its tongues thrust out for wafers. It has the arrogance of humility and the ferocity of universal forgiveness. In this respect it resembles every other sect. Every religion is a system of slavery.

Of course, the religionists say that they do not believe in persecution; that they do not believe in burning and hanging and whipping or loading with chains a man simply because he is an Infidel. They are willing to leave all this with God, knowing that a being of infinite goodness will inflict all these horrors and tortures upon an honest man who differs with the church.

In case Dr. McGlynn is deprived of his priestly functions, it is hard to say what effect it will have upon his church and the labor party in the country.

So long as a man believes that a church has eternal joy in store for him, so long as he believes that a church holds within its hand the keys of heaven and hell, it will be hard to make him trade off the hope of everlasting happiness for a few good clothes and a little good food and higher wages here. He finally thinks that, after all, he had better work for less and go a little hungry, and be an angel forever.

I hope, however, that a good many people who have been supporting the Catholic Church by giving tithes of the wages of weariness will see, and clearly see, that Catholicism is not their friend; that the church cannot and will not support them; that, on the contrary, they must support the church. I hope they will see that all the prayers have to be paid for, although not one has ever been answered. I hope they will perceive that the church is on the side of wealth and power, that the mitre is the friend of the crown, that the altar is the sworn brother of the throne. I hope they will finally know that the church cares infinitely more for the money of the millionaire than for the souls of the poor.

Of course, there are thousands of individual exceptions. I am speaking of the church as an institution, as a corporation—and when I say the church, I include all churches. It is said of corporations in general, that they have no soul, and it may truthfully be said of the church that it has less than any other. It lives on alms. It gives nothing for what it gets. It has no sympathy. Beggars never weep over the misfortunes of other beggars.

Nothing could give me more pleasure than to see the Catholic Church on the side of human freedom; nothing more pleasure than to see the Catholics of the world—those who work and weep and toil— sensible enough to know that all the money paid for superstition is worse than lost. I wish they could see that the counting of beads, and the saying of prayers and celebrating of masses, and all the kneelings and censer-swingings and fastings and bell-ringing, amount to less than nothing—that all these things tend only to the degradation of mankind. It is hard, I know, to find an antidote for a poison that was mingled with a mother's milk.

The laboring masses, so far as the Catholics are concerned, are filled with awe and wonder and fear about the church. This fear began to grow while they were being rocked in their cradles, and they still imagine that the church has some mysterious power; that it is in direct communication with some infinite personality that could, if it desired, strike then dead, or damn their souls forever. Persons who have no such belief, who care nothing for popes or priests or churches or heavens or hells or devils or gods, have very little idea of the power of fear.

The old dogmas filled the brain with strange monsters. The soul of the orthodox Christian gropes and wanders and crawls in a kind of dungeon, where the strained eyes see fearful shapes, and the frightened flesh shrinks from the touch of serpents.

The good part of Christianity—that is to say, kindness, morality —will never go down. The cruel part ought to go down. And by the cruel part I mean the doctrine of eternal punishment—of allowing the good to suffer for the bad—allowing innocence to pay the debt of guilt. So the foolish part of Christianity—that is to say, the miraculous—will go down. The absurd part must perish. But there will be no war about it as there was in France. Nobody believes enough in the foolish part of Christianity now to fight for it. Nobody believes with intensity enough in miracles to shoulder a musket. There is probably not a Christian in New York willing to fight for any story, no matter if the story is so old that it is covered with moss. No mentally brave and intelligent man believes in miracles, and no intelligent man cares whether there was a miracle or not, for the reason that every intelligent man knows that the miraculous has no possible connection with the moral. "Thou shalt not steal," is just as good a commandment if it should turn out that the flood was a drouth. "Thou shalt not murder," is a good and just and righteous law, and whether any particular miracle was ever performed or not has nothing to do with the case. There is no possible relation between these things.

I am on the side not only of the physically oppressed, but of the mentally oppressed. I hate those who put lashes on the body, and I despise those who put the soul in chains. In other words, I am in favor of liberty. I do not wish that any man should be the slave of his fellow-men, or that the human race should be the slaves of any god, real or imaginary. Man has the right to think for himself, to work for himself, to take care of himself, to get bread for himself, to get a home for himself. He has a right to his own opinion about God, and heaven and hell; the right to learn any art or mystery or trade; the right to work for whom he will, for what he will, and when he will.

The world belongs to the human race. There is to be no war in this country on religious opinions, except a war of words—a conflict of thoughts, of facts; and in that conflict the hosts of superstition will go down. They may not be defeated to-day, or to-morrow, or next year, or during this century, but they are growing weaker day by day.

This priest, McGlynn, has the courage to stand up against the propaganda. What would have been his fate a few years ago? What would have happened to him in Spain, in Portugal, in Italy—in any other country that was Catholic—only a few years ago? Yet he stands here in New York, he refuses to obey God's vicegerent; he freely gives his mind to an archbishop; he holds the holy Inquisition in contempt. He has done a great thing. He is undoubtedly an honest man. He never should have been a Catholic. He has no business in that church. He has ideas of his own—theories, and seems to be governed by principles. The Catholic Church is not his place. If he remains, he must submit, he must kneel in the humility of abjectness; he must receive on the back of his independence the lashes of the church. If he remains, he must ask the forgiveness of slaves for having been a man. If he refuses to submit, the church will not have him. He will be driven to take his choice— to remain a member, humiliated, shunned, or go out into the great, free world a citizen of the Republic, with the rights, responsibilities, and duties of an American citizen.

I believe that Dr. McGlynn is an honest man, and that he really believes in the land theories of Mr. George. I have no confidence in his theories, but I have confidence that he is actuated by the best and noblest motives.

Question. Are you to go on the lecture platform again?

Answer. I expect to after a while. I am now waiting for the church to catch up. I got so far ahead that I began almost to sympathize with the clergy. They looked so helpless and talked in such a weak, wandering, and wobbling kind of way that I felt as though I had been cruel. From the papers I see that they are busy trying to find out who the wife of Cain was. I see that the Rev. Dr. Robinson, of New York, is now wrestling with that problem. He begins to be in doubt whether Adam was the first man, whether Eve was the first woman; suspects that there were other races, and that Cain did not marry his sister, but somebody else's sister, and that the somebody else was not Cain's brother. One can hardly over- estimate the importance of these questions, they have such a direct bearing on the progress of the world. If it should turn out that Adam was the first man, or that he was not the first man, something might happen—I am not prepared to say what, but it might.

It is a curious kind of a spectacle to see a few hundred people paying a few thousand dollars a year for the purpose of hearing these great problems discussed: "Was Adam the first man?" "Who was Cain's wife?" "Has anyone seen a map of the land of Nod?" "Where are the four rivers that ran murmuring through the groves of Paradise?" "Who was the snake? How did he walk? What language did he speak?" This turns a church into a kind of nursery, makes a cradle of each pew, and gives to each member a rattle with which he can amuse what he calls his mind.

The great theologians of Andover—the gentlemen who wear the brass collars furnished by the dead founder—have been disputing among themselves as to what is to become of the heathen who fortunately died before meeting any missionary from that institution. One can almost afford to be damned hereafter for the sake of avoiding the dogmas of Andover here. Nothing more absurd and childish has ever happened—not in the intellectual, but in the theological world.

There is no need of the Freethinkers saying anything at present. The work is being done by the church members themselves. They are beginning to ask questions of the clergy. They are getting tired of the old ideas—tired of the consolations of eternal pain—tired of hearing about hell—tired of hearing the Bible quoted or talked about—tired of the scheme of redemption—tired of the Trinity, of the plenary inspiration of the barbarous records of a barbarous people—tired of the patriarchs and prophets—tired of Daniel and the goats with three horns, and the image with the clay feet, and the little stone that rolled down the hill—tired of the mud man and the rib woman—tired of the flood of Noah, of the astronomy of Joshua, the geology of Moses—tired of Kings and Chronicles and Lamentations—tired of the lachrymose Jeremiah—tired of the monstrous, the malicious, and the miraculous. In short, they are beginning to think. They have bowed their necks to the yoke of ignorance and fear and impudence and superstition, until they are weary. They long to be free. They are tired of the services— tired of the meaningless prayers—tired of hearing each other say, "Hear us, good Lord"—tired of the texts, tired of the sermons, tired of the lies about spontaneous combustion as a punishment for blasphemy, tired of the bells, and they long to hear the doxology of superstition. They long to have Common Sense lift its hands in benediction and dismiss the congregation.

—Brooklyn Citizen, April, 1886.

TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO ANARCHISTS.

Question. What do you think of the trial of the Chicago Anarchists and their chances for a new trial?

Answer. I have paid some attention to the evidence and to the rulings of the court, and I have read the opinion of the Supreme Court of Illinois, in which the conviction is affirmed. Of course these men were tried during a period of great excitement—tried when the press demanded their conviction—when it was asserted that society was on the edge of destruction unless these men were hanged. Under such circumstances, it is not easy to have a fair and impartial trial. A judge should either sit beyond the reach of prejudice, in some calm that storms cannot invade, or he should be a kind of oak that before any blast he would stand erect. It is hard to find such a place as I have suggested and not easy to find such a man. We are all influenced more or less by our surroundings, by the demands and opinions and feelings and prejudices of our fellow- citizens. There is a personality made up of many individuals known as society. This personality has prejudices like an individual. It often becomes enraged, acts without the slightest sense, and repents at its leisure. It is hard to reason with a mob whether organized or disorganized, whether acting in the name of the law or of simple brute force. But in any case, where people refuse to be governed by reason, they become a mob.

Question. Do you not think that these men had a fair trial?

Answer. I have no doubt that the court endeavored to be fair— no doubt that Judge Gary is a perfectly honest, upright man, but I think his instructions were wrong. He instructed the jury to the effect that where men have talked in a certain way, and where the jury believed that the result of such talk might be the commission of a crime, that such men are responsible for that crime. Of course, there is neither law nor sense in an instruction like this. I hold that it must have been the intention of the man making the remark, or publishing the article, or doing the thing—it must have been his intention that the crime should be committed. Men differ as to the effect of words, and a man may say a thing with the best intentions the result of which is a crime, and he may say a thing with the worst of intentions and the result may not be a crime. The Supreme Court of Illinois seemed to have admitted that the instructions were wrong, but took the ground that it made no difference with the verdict. This is a dangerous course for the court of last resort to pursue; neither is it very complimentary to the judge who tried the case, that his instructions had no effect upon the jury. Under the instructions of the court below, any man who had been arrested with the seven Anarchists and of whom it could be proved that he had ever said a word in favor of any change in government, or of other peculiar ideas, no matter whether he knew of the meeting at the Haymarket or not, would have been convicted.

I am satisfied that the defendant Fielden never intended to harm a human being. As a matter of fact, the evidence shows that he was making a speech in favor of peace at the time of the occurrence. The evidence also shows that he was an exceedingly honest, industrious, and a very poor and philanthropic man.

Question. Do you uphold the Anarchists?

Answer. Certainly not. There is no place in this country for the Anarchist. The source of power here is the people, and to attack the political power is to attack the people. If the laws are oppressive, it is the fault of the oppressed. If the laws touch the poor and leave them without redress, it is the fault of the poor. They are in a majority. The men who work for their living are the very men who have the power to make every law that is made in the United States. There is no excuse for any resort to violence in this country. The boycotting by trades unions and by labor organizations is all wrong. Let them resort to legal methods and to no other. I have not the slightest sympathy with the methods that have been pursued by Anarchists, or by Socialists, or by any other class that has resorted to force or intimidation. The ballot-box is the place to assemble. The will of the people can be made known in that way, and their will can be executed. At the same time, I think I understand what has produced the Anarchist, the Socialist, and the agitator. In the old country, a laboring man, poorly clad, without quite enough to eat, with a wife in rags, with a few children asking for bread—this laboring man sees the idle enjoying every luxury of this life; he sees on the breast of "my lady" a bonfire of diamonds; he sees "my lord" riding in his park; he sees thousands of people who from the cradle to the grave do no useful act; add nothing to the intellectual or the physical wealth of the world; he sees labor living in the tenement house, in the hut; idleness and nobility in the mansion and the palace; the poor man a trespasser everywhere except upon the street, where he is told to "move on," and in the dusty highways of the country. That man naturally hates the government—the government of the few, the government that lives on the unpaid labor of the many, the government that takes the child from the parents, and puts him in the army to fight the child of another poor man and woman in some other country. These Anarchists, these Socialists, these agitators, have been naturally produced. All the things of which I have spoken sow in the breast of poverty the seeds of hatred and revolution. These poor men, hunted by the officers of the law, cornered, captured, imprisoned, excite the sympathy of other poor men, and if some are dragged to the gallows and hanged, or beheaded by the guillotine, they become saints and martyrs, and those who sympathize with them feel that they have the power, and only the power of hatred—the power of riot, of destruction—the power of the torch, of revolution, that is to say, of chaos and anarchy. The injustice of the higher classes makes the lower criminal. Then there is another thing. The misery of the poor excites in many noble breasts sympathy, and the men who thus sympathize wish to better the condition of their fellows. At first they depend upon reason, upon calling the attention of the educated and powerful to the miseries of the poor. Nothing happens, no result follows. The Juggernaut of society moves on, and the wretches are still crushed beneath the great wheels. These men who are really good at first, filled with sympathy, now become indignant—they are malicious, then destructive and criminal. I do not sympathize with these methods, but I do sympathize with the general object that all good and generous people seek to accomplish—namely, to better the condition of the human race. Only the other day, in Boston, I said that we ought to take into consideration the circumstances under which the Anarchists were reared; that we ought to know that every man is necessarily produced; that man is what he is, not by accident, but necessity; that society raises its own criminals—that it plows the soil and cultivates and harvests the crop. And it was telegraphed that I had defended anarchy. Nothing was ever further from my mind. There is no place, as I said before, for anarchy in the United States. In Russia it is another question; in Germany another question. Every country that is governed by the one man, or governed by the few, is the victim of anarchy. That is anarchy. That is the worst possible form of socialism. The definition of socialism given by its bitterest enemy is, that idlers wish to live on the labor and on the money of others. Is not this definition—a definition given in hatred—a perfect definition of every monarchy and of nearly every government in the world? That is to say: The idle few live on the labor and the money of others.

Question. Will the Supreme Court take cognizance of this case and prevent the execution of the judgment?

Answer. Of course it is impossible for me to say. At the same time, judging from the action of Justice Miller in the case of The People vs. Maxwell, it seems probable that the Supreme Court may interfere, but I have not examined the question sufficiently to form an opinion. My feeling about the whole matter is this: That it will not tend to answer the ideas advanced by these men, to hang them. Their execution will excite sympathy among thousands and thousands of people who have never examined and knew nothing of the theories advanced by the Anarchists, or the Socialists, or other agitators. In my judgment, supposing the men to be guilty, it is far better to imprison them. Less harm will be done the cause of free government. We are not on the edge of any revolution. No other government is as firmly fixed as ours. No other government has such a broad and splendid foundation. We have nothing to fear. Courage and safety can afford to be generous—can afford to act without haste and without the feeling of revenge. So, for my part, I hope that the sentence may be commuted, and that these men, if found guilty at last, may be imprisoned. This course is, in my judgment, the safest to pursue. It may be that I am led to this conclusion, because of my belief that every man does as he must. This belief makes me charitable toward all the world. This belief makes me doubt the wisdom of revenge. This belief, so far as I am concerned, blots from our language the word "punishment." Society has a right to protect itself, and it is the duty of society to reform, in so far as it may be possible, any member who has committed what is called a crime. Where the criminal cannot be reformed, and the safety of society can be secured by his imprisonment, there is no possible excuse for destroying his life. After these six or seven men have been, in accordance with the forms of law, strangled to death, there will be a few pieces of clay, and about them will gather a few friends, a few admirers—and these pieces will be buried, and over the grave will be erected a monument, and those who were executed as criminals will be regarded by thousands as saints. It is far better for society to have a little mercy. The effect upon the community will be good. If these men are imprisoned, people will examine their teachings without prejudice. If they are executed, seen through the tears of pity, their virtues, their sufferings, their heroism, will be exaggerated; others may emulate their deeds, and the gulf between the rich and the poor will be widened—a gulf that may not close until it has devoured the noblest and the best.

—The Mail and Express, New York, November 3, 1887.