Showing posts with label ghost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ghost. Show all posts

Ghosts

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: In the first place, allow me to tender my sincere thanks to the clergy of this city. I feel that I am greatly indebted to them for this magnificent audience. It has been said, and I believe it myself, that there is a vast amount of intolerance in the church to-day, but when twenty-four clergymen, three of whom, I believe, are bishops, act as my advance agents, without expecting any remuneration, or reward in this world, I must admit that perhaps I was mistaken on the question of intolerance. And I will say, further, that against those men I have not the slightest feeling in the world; every man is the product of every circumstance that has ever touched him; he is the product to a certain degree of the religion and creed of his day, and when men show the slightest intolerance I blame the creed, I blame the religion, I blame the superstition that forced them to do so. I do not blame those men.

Allow me to say, further, that this world is not, in my judgment, yet perfect. I am doing, in a very feeble way, to be sure, but I am still endeavoring, according to my idea, to make this world just a little better; to give a little more liberty to men, a little more liberty to women. I believe in the government of kindness; I believe in truth, in investigation, in free thought. I do not believe that the hand of want will be eternally extended in the world; I do not believe that the prison will forever scar the ground; I do not believe that the shadow of the gallows will forever curse the earth; I do not believe that it will always be true that the men who do the most work will have the least to wear and the least to eat. I do believe that the time will come when liberty and morality and justice, like the rings of Saturn, will surround the world; that the world will be better, and every true man and every free man will do what he can to hasten the coming of the religion of human advancement.

I understand that for the thousands and thousands of years that have gone by, all questions have been settled by religion. I understand that during all this time the people have gotten their information from the sacerdotal class -- from priests. I know that when India was supreme they worshiped Brahma and Vishnu, and that when Rome held in its hand the red sword of war they worshiped Jove, and I know now that our religion has swept to the top. Any man living in India a few hundred or thousand years ago would have said, this is the only true religion. Why? Because here is the only true civilization. A man afterward living in Egypt would have said, this is the only true religion, because we have the best civilization; a Greek in Athens would have said this is the only true religion, and a Roman would have said, we have the true religion, and now those religions all having died, although they were all true religions; we say ours is the only religion, because we are the greatest commercial nation in the world. There will come other nations; there will come other religions. Man has made every religion in this world, in my judgment, and the religion has been good or bad according as the men who made it were good or bad. If they were savages and barbarians, they made a God like them Jehovah of the Jews; if they were civilized, if they were kind and tender, they filled the heavens with kindness and love. Every man makes his own God. Show me the God a man worships, and I will tell you what kind of a man he is. Every one makes his own God, every one worships his own God; and if you are a civilized man you will have a civilized God, and we have been civilizing our for hundreds and hundreds of years. He is getting better every day.

I am going to tell you to-night just exactly what I think. The other lecture I delivered here was my conservative lecture; this is my radical one! We ever hear it suggested that our religion, our Bible, has given us all we have of prosperity and greatness and grandeur. I deny it! We have become civilized in spite of it, and I will show you to-night that the obstruction that every science has had is what we have been pleased to call our religion -- or superstition. I had a conversation with a gentleman once -- and these gentlemen are always mistaking something that goes along with a thing for the cause of the thing -- and he stated to me that this particular religion was the cause of all advancement. I said to him: "No sir; the causes of all advancement, in my judgment, are plug hats and suspenders." And I said to him: "You go to Turkey, where they are semi-barbarians, and you won't find a pair of suspenders or a plug hat in all that country; you go to Russia, and you will find now and then a pair of suspenders at Moscow or St. Petersburg; and you go on down till you strike Austria, and black hats begin; then you go on to Paris, Berlin and New York, and you will find everybody wears suspenders and everybody wears black hats." He said that any man who said to him that plug hats and suspenders had done more for mankind than the Bible and religion he would not talk to.

As a matter of fact, we are controlled today by men who do not exist. We are controlled to-day by phenomena that never did exist. We are controlled by ghosts and dead men, and in the grasp of death is a scepter that controls the living present. I propose that we shall govern ourselves! I propose that we shall let the past go, and let the dead past bury the dead past. I believe the American people have brains enough, and nerve enough, and courage enough, to control and govern themselves, without any assistance from dust or ghosts. That is my doctrine, and I am going to do what I can while I live to increase that feeling of independence and manhood in the American people. We can control ourselves. I believe in the Gospel of this world; I believe in happiness right here: I do not believe in drinking skim milk all my life with the expectation of butter beyond the clouds. I believe in the Gospel, I say, in this world. This is a mighty good world. There are plenty of good people in this world. There is lots of happiness in this world, and, I say, let us, in every way we can, increase it. I envy every man who is content with his lot, whether he is poor or whether he is rich. I tell you, the man that tries to make somebody else happy, and who own his own soul, nobody having a mortgage or deed of trust upon his manhood or liberty--this world is a pretty good world for such a man. I do not care; I am going to say my say, whether I make money or grow poor; no matter whether I got high office or walk along the dusty highway of the common. I am going to say my say, and I had rather be a farmer and live on forty acres of land--live in a log cabin that I built myself, and have a little grassy path going down to the spring, so that I can go there and hear the waters gurgling, and know that it is coming out from the lips of the earth, like a poem whispering to the white pebbles -- I would rather live there, and have some hollyhocks at the corner of the house, and the larks singing and swinging in the trees, and some lattice over the window, so that the sunlight can fall checkered on the babe in the cradle -- I had rather live there, and have the freedom of my own brain; I had rather do that than live in a palace of gold, and crawl, a slimy hypocrite, through this world. Superstition has done enough harm already; every religion, nearly, suspects everything that is pleasant, everything that is joyous, and they always have a notion that God feels best when we feel worst. They have changed the Andromeda of joy to the cold rock of ignorance and fear, there to be devoured by the dragon of superstition. Church and State are two vultures that have fed upon the heart of chained Prometheus. I say, let the human race have a chance; let every man think for himself and express that thought. There is no wrath in the serene heavens; there is no scowl in the blue of the sky. Upon the throne of the universe tyranny does not sit as a king.

The speaker here took from his pocket a pair of spectacles, and adjusted them, saying: I am sorry to admit it. I have got to come to it. I hate to put on a pair of spectacles, but the other day, as I was putting them on, a thought struck me. I see progress in this. To progress is to overcome the obstacles of nature, and in order to overcome this obstacle of the loss of sight man invented spectacles. Spectacles led men to the telescope, with which he reads all the starry heavens; and had it not been for the failure of sight we wouldn't have seen a millionth part that we have. In the first place, we owe nothing but truth to the dead. I am going to tell the truth about them. There are three theories by which men account for all phenomena -- for everything that happens: First, the supernatural. In the olden time, everything that happened that happened some deity produced, some spirit, some devil, some hobgoblin, some dryad, some fairy, some spook, something except nature. First, then, the supernatural; and a barbarian, looking at the wide, mysterious sea, wandering through the depths of the forest, encountering the wild beasts, troubled by strange dreams, accounted for everything by the action of spirits, good and bad. Second, the supernatural and natural. There is where the religious world is to-day--a mingling of the supernatural and natural, the idea being that God created the world and imposed upon men certain laws, and then let them run, and if they ever got into any trouble then he would do a miracle and accomplish any good that he desired to do. Third--and that is the grand theory--the natural. Between these theories there has been from the dawn of civilization a conflict. In this great war nearly all the soldiers have been in the ranks of the supernatural. The believers in the supernatural insist that matter is controlled and directed entirely by powers from without. The naturalists maintain that nature acts from within; that nature is not acted upon; that the universe is all there is; that nature, with infinite arms, embraces everything that exists, and that the supposed powers beyond the limits of the materially real are simply ghosts.

You say, ha! this is materialism! this is the doctrine of matter? What is matter? I take a handful of earth in my hands, and into that dust I put seeds, and arrows from the eternal quiver of the sun smite it, and the seeds grow and bud and blossom, and filled the air with perfume in my sight. Do you understand that? Do you understand how this dust and these seeds and that light and this moisture produced that bud and that flower and that perfume? Do you understand that any better than you do the production of thought? Do you understand that any better than you do a dream? Do you understand that any better than you do the thoughts of love that you see in the eyes of the one you adore? Can you explain it? Can you tell what matter is? Have you the slightest conception? Yet you talk about matter as though you were acquainted with its origin; as though you had compelled, with clenched hands, the very rocks to give up the secret of existence? Do you know what force is? Can you account for molecular action? Are you familiar with chemistry? Can you account for the loves and the hatreds of the atoms? Is there not something in matter that forever eludes you? Can you tell what matter really is? Before you cry materialism, you had better find what matter is. Can you tell of anything without a material basis? Is it possible to imagine the annihilation of a single atom? Is it possible for you to conceive of the creation of a single atom? Can you have a thought that is not suggested to you by what you call matter? Did any man or woman or child ever have a solitary thought, dream or conception that was not suggested to them by something they had seen in nature? Can you conceive of anything the different parts of which have been suggested to you by nature? You can conceive of an animal with the hoofs of a bison, with the pouch of a kangaroo, with the head of a buffalo, with the tail of a lion, with the scales of a fish, with the wings of a bird, and yet every part of this impossible monster has been suggested to you by nature. You say time, therefore you can think eternity. You say pain, therefore you can think hell. You say strength, therefore you can think omnipotence. You say wisdom, therefore you can think infinite wisdom. Everything you see, everything you can dream of or think of has been suggested to you by your surroundings, by nature. Man cannot rise above nature; below nature man cannot fall.

Imagine, if you please the creation of a single atom. Can any one here imagine the creation out of nothing of one single atom? Can any one here imagine the destruction of one atom? Can you imagine an atom being changed to nothing? Can you imagine nothing being changed to an atom? There is not a single person here with an imagination strong enough to think either of the creation of an atom, or of the annihilation of an atom.

Matter and the universe are the same yesterday, to-day and forever. There is just as much matter in the universe to-day as there ever was, and as there ever will be; there is just as much force and just as much energy as there ever was, and as there ever will be; but it is continually taking different shapes and forms; one day it is a man, another day it is an animal, another day it is earth, another day it is metal, another day it is gas, it gains nothing and it loses nothing. Our fathers denounced materialism and accounted for all phenomena how? By the caprice of gods and devils. For thousands of years it was believed that ghosts, good ghosts, bad ghosts, benevolent and malevolent, in some mysterious way produced all phenomena; that disease and health, happiness and misery, fortune and misfortunate, peace and war, life and death, success and failure, were but arrows shot by these ghosts or shadowy phantoms, to reward or punish mankind, that they were displeased or please by our actions, that they blessed the earth with harvest or cursed it with famine; that they fed or starved the children of men; that they crowned or uncrowned kings; that they controlled war; that they gave prosperous voyages, allowing the brave mariner to meet his wife and children inside the harbor bar, or strewed the sad shore with wrecks of ships and the bodies of men. Formerly these ghosts were believed to be almost innumerable. Earth, air and water were filled with the phantoms, but in modern times they have greatly decreased in number, because the second proposition that I stated, the supernatural and the natural, has generally been adopted, but the remaining ghosts are supposed to perform the same functions as of yore.

Let me say right here that the object of every religion ever made by man has been to get on the good side of supposed powers; has been to petition the Gods to stop the earthquakes, to stop famine, to stop pestilence. It has always been something that man should do to prevent being punished by the powers of the air or to get from them some favors. It has always been believed that these ghosts could in some way be appeased; that they could be bettered by sacrifices, by prayer, by fasting, by the building of temples and cathedrals, by shedding the blood of men and beasts, by forms, by ceremonies, by kneelings, by prostrations and flagellations, by living alone in the wild desert, by the practice of celibacy, by inventing instruments of torture, by destroying men, women and children, by covering the earth with dungeons, by burning unbelievers and by putting chains upon the thoughts and manacles upon the lips of men, by believing things without evidence, by believing things against evidence, by disbelieving and denying demonstrations, by despising facts, by hating reason, by discouraging investigation, by making an idiot of yourself -- all these have been done to appease the winged monsters of the air.

In the history of our poor world no horror has been omitted, no infamy has been left undone by believers in ghosts, and all the shadows were born of cowardice and malignity; they were painted by the pencil of fear upon the canvas of ignorance by that artist called Superstition. From these ghosts our fathers received their information. These ghosts were the schoolmasters of our ancestors. They were the scientists, the philosophers, the geologists, the legislators, the astronomers, the physicians, the metaphysicians and historians of the past.

Let me give you my definition of metaphysics, that is to say the science of the unknown, the science of guessing. Metaphysics is where two fools get together, and both say "Hence we infer." That is the science of metaphysics. For this these ghosts were supposed to have the only experience and real knowledge; they inspired men to write books, and the books were sacred. If facts were found to be inconsistent with these books, so much the worse for the facts, and especially for the discoverers of these facts. It was then and still is believed that these sacred books are the basis of the idea of immortality, and to give up the idea that these books were inspired is to renounce the idea of immortal life. I deny it! Men existed before books; and all the books that were ever written were written, in my judgment, by men; and the idea of immortality, like the great sea, has ebbed and flowed in the human heart, beating its countless waves of hope and joy against the shores of time, and was not born of any book, nor of any human affection, and it will continue to ebb and flow beneath the clouds and mists of doubt and darkness as long as love kisses the lips of death. It is the rainbow of hope shining upon the tears of grief. We love, therefore we wish to live, and the foundation of the idea of immortality is human affection and human love, and I have a thousand times more confidence in the affections of the human heart, in the deep and splendid feelings of the human soul than I have in any book that ever was or ever can be written by moral man.

From the books written by those ghosts we have at least ascertained that they knew nothing whatever of the world in which we live. Did they know anything about any other? Upon every point where contradiction is possible, the ghosts have been contradicted. By these ghosts, by these citizens of the air, by this aristocracy of the clouds the affairs of government were administered; all authority to govern came from them. The emperors, kings and potentates, every one of them, had the divine petroleum poured upon his head, the kerosene of authority.

The emperors, kings and potentates had communications from the phantoms. Man was not considered as the source of power; to rebel against the king was to rebel against the ghosts, and nothing less than the blood of the offenders could appease the invisible phantoms; and by the authority of the ghosts man was crushed and slayed and plundered. Many toiled wearily in the sun and storm that a few favorites of the ghosts might live in idleness, and many lived in huts and caves and dens that the few might dwell in palaces, and many clothed themselves in purple and gold, and many crept and cringed and crawled that a few might tread upon their necks with feet of iron. From the ghosts men received not only authority but information. They told us the form of the earth; they informed us that eclipses were caused by the sins of man, especially the failure to pay tithes; that the universe was made in six days, that gazing at the sky with a telescope was dangerous; that trying to be wise beyond what they had written was born of a rebellious and irreverent spirit; they told us there was no virtue like belief; no crime like doubt, that investigation was simply impudence, and the punishment therefore violent torment; they not only told us all about this world but about two others, and if their statements about the other two are as true as they were about this, no one can estimate the value of their information.

For countless ages the world was governed by ghosts, and they spared no pains to change the eagle of the human intellect into a bat of darkness. To accomplish this infamous purpose, to drive the love of truth from the human heart; to prevent the advancement of mankind; to shut out from the world every ray of intellectual light; to pollute every mind with superstition, the power of kings, the sinning and cruelty of priests, and the wealth of nations were used.

In order to show you the information we got from the ghosts, and the condition of the world when the ghosts were the kings, let me call your attention to this: During these years of persecution, ignorance, superstition and slavery, nearly all the people, the kings, lawyers and doctors, learned and unlearned, believed in that frightful production of ignorance, of fear and faith, called witchcraft. Witchcraft to-day is religion carried out. They believed that man was the sport and prey of devils; that the very air was thick with these enemies of man, and, with few exceptions, this hideous progress was almost impossible. Fear paralyzed the brain.

Progress is born of courage. Fear believes, courage doubts. Fear falls upon the earth and prays; courage stands erect and thinks. Fear retreats; courage advances. Fear is barbarism; courage is civilization. Fear believes in witchcraft; courage in science and eternal law. The facts upon which this terrible belief rested were proved over and over again in nearly every court in Europe. Thousands confessed themselves guilty; admitted they had sold themselves to the devil. They gave the particulars of the sale; told what they said and what the devil replied. They confessed themselves guilty when they knew confession was death; knowing that their property would be confiscated and their children left to beg their bread. This is one of the miracles of history, one of the strangest contradictions of the human mind. Without doubt they really believed themselves guilty.

In the first place, they believed in witchcraft as a fact, and when charged with it, they became insane. They had read the account of the witch of Endor calling up the dead body of Samuel. He is an old man; he has his mantle on. They had read the account of Saul stooping to the earth and conversing with the spirit that had been called from the region of space by a witch. They had read a command from the Almighty, "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live," and they believed the world was full of witches, or else the Almighty would not have made a law against them. They believed in witchcraft, and when they were charged with it, they probably became insane, and in their insanity they confessed their guilt. They found themselves abhorred and deserted, charged with a crime they could not disprove. Like a man in quicksand, every effort only sank them deeper. Caught in this frightful web, at the mercy of the devotees of superstition, hope fled and nothing remained but the insanity of confession.

The whole world appeared insane. In the time of James I. a man was burned for causing a storm at sea, with the intention of drowning one of the royal family; but I do not think it would have been much of a crime if he had been really guilty. How could he disprove it? How could he show that he did not cause a storm at sea? All storms were at that time supposed to be inspired by the devil; the people believed that all storms were caused by him, or by persons whom he assisted. I implore you to remember that the men who believed these things wrote our creeds and our confessions of faith, and it is by their dust that I am asked to kneel and pay implicit homage, instead of investigating; and I implore you to recollect that they wrote our creeds.

A woman was tried and convicted before Sir Matthew Hale, one of the greatest judges and lawyers of England, for having caused children to vomit crooked pins. Think of that! The learned judge charged the intelligent jury that there was no doubt as to the existence of witches; that it was established by all history and expressly taught by the Bible. The woman was hung and her body was burned. Sir Thomas More declared that to give up witchcraft was to throw away the sacred Scriptures. John Wesley, too, was a firm believer in ghosts and, insisted upon their existence after all laws upon the subject had been repealed in England, and I beg of you to remember that John Wesley was the founder of the Methodist Church. In New England a woman was charged with being a witch and with having changed herself into a fox; while in that condition she was attacked and bitten by some dogs, and a committee of three men was ordered by the Court to examine this woman. They removed her clothing, and searched for what they were pleased to call witch-spots -- that is to say, spots into which a needle could be thrust without giving pain; they reported to the Court that such spots were found. She denied that she had ever changed herself into a fox. On the report of the committee she was found guilty, and she was actually executed by our Puritan fathers, the gentlemen who braved the danger of the deep for the sake of worshipping God and persecuting their fellow men. I belong to their blood, and the best thing I can say about them, and what rises like a white shaft to their eternal honor, is that they were in favor of education.

A man was attacked by a wolf; he defended himself and succeeded in cutting off one of the animal's paws, and the wolf ran away; he put it in his pocket and carried it home; there he found his wife with one of her hands gone, and he took that paw from his pocket and put it upon her arm, and it assumed the appearance of a human hand, and he charged his wife with being a witch. She was tried, she confessed her guilt, and she was hung and her body was burned! My! is it possible? Did not somebody say something against such an infamous proceeding? Yes, they did! There was a Young Men's Association who invited a man to come and give his ideas upon the subject.

He denounced it. He said it was outrageous, that it was nonsensical, that it was infamous; and the moment he went away the young men met and passed a resolution that he had deceived them; and the clergy at that time protested and said, of course, let the man think, if you call that kind of stuff thinking.

But there was one man belonging to this Association who had the courage to stand by the truth.

Whether he believe in what the speaker said or not, he had that manliness; and I take this opportunity to thank from the bottom of my heart a man. I have no idea he agrees with me except in this: Whatever you do, do it like a man and be honest about it.

People were burned for causing frost in summer; for destroying crops with hail; for causing storms; for making cows go dry; for souring beer; for putting the devil in emptyings so that they would not rise. The life of no one was secure. To be charged was to be convicted. Every man was at the mercy of every other. This infamous belief was so firmly seated in the minds of the people, that, to express a doubt as to its existence was to be suspected yourself. They believed that animals were often taken possession of by devils, and they believed that the killing of the animal would destroy the devil. They absolutely tried, convicted and executed dumb beasts.

At Vail, in 1470, a rooster was tried upon the charge of having laid an egg, and the clergy said they had no doubt of it. Rooster eggs were used only in making witch-ointment. This everybody knew. The rooster was convicted, and with all due solemnity, he was burned in the public square.

So a hog and six pigs were tried for having killed and partially eaten a child. The hog was convicted, but the pigs, on account of their extreme youth were acquitted.

As late as 1740, a cow, charged with being possessed of a devil, was tried and convicted. They used to exorcise rats, snakes and vermin; they used to go through the alleys and streets and field and warn them to leave within a certain number of days, and if they did not leave, they threatened them with certain pains and penalties which they proceeded to recount.

But let us be careful how we laugh about those things; let us not pride ourselves too much on the progress of our age. We must not forget that some of our people are yet in the same intelligent business. Only a little while ago the Government of Minnesota appointed a day of fasting and prayer to see if the Lord could not be induced to kill the grasshoppers -- or send them into some other state.

About the close of the fifteenth century was the excitement in regard to witchcraft, and Pope Innocent the Eighth issued a bull directing the inquisitors to be vigilant in searching out and punishing all guilty of this crime. Forms for the crime were regularly issued. For two hundred and fifty years the church was busy in punishing the impossible crime of witchcraft by burning, hanging, and torturing men, women and little children.

Protestants were as active as Catholics; and in Geneva five hundred witches were burned at the stake in three months, and one thousand were executed in one year in the diocese of Couro; at least one hundred thousand victims suffered in Germany, the last execution being in Galesburgh, and taking place in 1794, and the last in Switzerland, 1780. In England statutes passed from Henry VI. to James I., defining the crime and punishment, and last act passed in the British Parliament was when Lord Bacon was a member of the house.

In 1716 Mrs. Hicks and daughter, nine years of age, were hung for selling their souls to the devil, and raising a storm at sea by pulling off their stockings and making a lather of soap. In England it has been estimated that at least 30,000 were hung or burned. The last victim executed in Scotland was 1722. She was an innocent old woman who had so little idea of her condition, that she rejoiced at the sight of the fire destined to consume her to ashes. She had a daughter, lame in her hands, a circumstance accounted for from the fact that the witch had been used to transfer her daughter into a pony and get her shod by the devil! Intelligent ancestors!

In 1692 nineteen persons were executed in Salem, Massachusetts, for the crime of witchcraft. It was thought in those days that men and women made contracts with the devil, and those contracts were confirmed at a meeting of witches and ghosts, over which the devil presided; these contracts in some cases were for a few years, others for life. General assemblages of witches were held once a year. To these they rode from great distances on brooms and dogs, and there they did homage to the prince of hell and offered him sacrifices.

In 1836 the populace of Holland plunged into the sea a woman reputed to be a sorceress, and as the miserable woman persisted in rising to the surface, she was pronounced guilty, and was beaten to death. It was believed that the devil could transform people into any shape he pleased, and whoever denounced this idea was denounced as an Infidel; that the believers in witchcraft appealed to the devil; that with the devil were associated innumerable spirits, who ranged over the world endeavoring to torment mankind; that these spirits possessed a power and wisdom transcending the limits of human faculties. They believed the devil could carry persons hundreds of miles in a few seconds; they believed this because they knew that Christ had been carried by the devil, in the same manner, into a high mountain, and placed upon a pinnacle. According to their account, the prince of the air had absolutely taken the God of this infinite Universe, the Creator of all its shining, wheeling stars -- he had been absolutely taken by the devil to a pinnacle of the temple, and there had been tempted by the devil to cast himself to the earth!

Take from the church itself the threat and fear of hell and it becomes an extinct volcano. With the doctrine of hell taken from the Church, that is the end of the fall of man, that is the end of the scheme of atonement. Take from them the idea of an eternal torment, and the Church is thrown back simply upon facts.

And Dean Stanley, the leading ecclesiastic of Great Britain, only the other day in Winchester Abbey, said, science will be the only theology of the future. Morality is the only religion of the years to come. Notwithstanding all the infamous things laid to the charge of the Church, we are told that the civilization of today is the child of what we are pleased to call superstition. Let me call your attention to what they received from their fears of these ghosts. Let me give you an outline of the sciences as taught by those philosophers. There is one thing that a man is interested in, if he is in anything, and that is the science of medicine. A doctor is, so to speak, in partnership with Nature. He is a preserver if he is worthy of the name. And now I want to show what they have gotten from these ghosts upon the science of medicine.

According to them, all of the diseases were produced as a punishment by the good ghosts, or out of pure malignity by the bad ones. There were, properly speaking, no diseases; the sick were simply possessed by ghosts. The science of medicine consisted in knowing how to persuade these ghosts to vacate the premises; and for thousands of years all diseases were treated with incantations, hideous noises, with the beating of drums and gongs; everything was done to make the position of a ghost as unpleasant as possible; and they generally succeeded in making things so disagreeable that if the ghost did not leave, the patient died. These ghosts were supposed to be different in rank, power and dignity. Now, then, a man pretended to have won the favor of some powerful ghost who gave him power over the little ones. Such a man became a very great physician. It was found that a certain kind of smoke was exceedingly offensive to the nostrils of your ordinary ghost. With this smoke the sick room would be filled until the ghost vanished or the patient died. It was also believed that certain words, when properly pronounced, were the most effective weapons, for it was for a long time supposed that Latin words were the best, I supposed because Latin was a dead language. For thousands of years medicine consisted in driving the devils out of men. In some instances bargains and promises were made with the ghosts. One case is given where a multitude of devils traded a man off for a herd of swine. In this transaction the devils were the losers, the swine having immediately drowned themselves in the sea. This idea of disease appears to have been almost universal and is not yet extinct. The contortions of the epileptic, the strange twitching of those afflicted with cholera, were all seized as proof that the bodies of men were filled with vile and malignant spirits. Whoever endeavored to account for these things by natural causes; whoever endeavored to cure disease by natural means was denounced as an Infidel. To explain anything was a crime. It was to the interest of the sacerdotal class that all things should be accounted for by the will and power of God and the devil. The moment it is admitted that all phenomena are within the domain of the natural, and that all the prayers in the world cannot change one solitary fact, the necessity for the priest disappears. Religion breathes the idea of miracles. Take from the minds of men the idea of the supernatural, and superstition ceases to exist; for this reason the Church has always despised the man who explains the wonderful. The moment that it began to be apparent that prayer could do nothing for the body, the priest shifted his ground and began praying for the soul.

After the devil had substantially abandoned in the practice of medicine, and when it was admitted that God had nothing to do with ordinary coughs and colds, it was still believed that all the diseases were sent by Him as punishment for the people; it was thought to be a kind of blasphemy to even stay the ravages of pestilence. Formerly, when a pestilence fell upon a people, the arguments of the priest were boundless. He told the people that they had refused to pay their tithes, and they had doubted some of the doctrines of the church, that in their hearts they had contempt for some of the priests of the Lord, and God was now taking his revenge, and the people, for the most part, believed this issue of falsehood, and hastened to fall upon their knees and to pour out their wealth upon the altars of hypocrisy.

The church never wanted disease to be absolutely under the control of man. Timothy Dwight, president of Yale College, preached a sermon against vaccination. His idea was that if God had decreed that through all eternity certain men should die of smallpox, it was a frightful sin to endeavor to prevent it; that plagues and pestilence were instruments in the hands of God with which to gain the love and worship of mankind; to find the cure for the disease was to take the punishment from the church. No one tries to cure the ague with prayer, because quinine has been found to be altogether more reliable. Just as soon as a specific is found for a disease, that disease is left out of the list of prayer. The number of diseases with which God from time to time afflicts mankind is continually decreasing, because the number of diseases that man can cure is continually increasing. In a few years all diseases will be under the control of man. The science of medicine has but one enemy -- superstition. Man was afraid to save his body for fear he would lose his soul. Is it any wonder that the people in those days believed in and taught the infamous doctrine of eternal punishment, that makes God a heartless monster and man a slimy hypocrite and slave?

The ghosts were also historians, and wrote the grossest absurdities. They wrote as though they had been eye witnesses of every occurrence. They told all the past, they predicted all the future, with an impudence that amounted to sublimity. They said that the Tartars originally came from hell, and that they were called Tartars because that was one of the names of hell. These gentlemen accounted for the red on the breasts of robins from the fact that those birds used to carry water to the unhappy infants in hell. Other eminent historians say that Nero was in the habit of vomiting frogs. When I read that, I said some of the croakers of the present day would be better for such a vomit. Others say that the walls of a city fell down in answer to prayer. They tell us that King Arthur was not born like other mortals; that he had great luck in killing giants; that one of the giants that he killed wore clothes woven from the beards of kings that he had slain, and, to cap the climax, the authors of this history were rewarded for having written the only reliable history of their country. These are the men from whom we get our creeds and our confessions of faith.

In all the histories of those days there is hardly a truth. Facts were not considered of any importance. They wrote, and the people believed that the tracks of Pharaoh's chariot were still visible upon the sands of the Red Sea, and that they had been miraculously preserved as perpetual witnesses of the miracles that had been performed, and they said to any man who denied it: "Go there and you will find the tracks still upon the sand." They accounted for everything as the work of good and evil spirits; with cause and effect they had nothing to do. Facts were in no way related to each other. God, governed by infinite caprice, filled the world with miracles and disconnected events, and from his quiver came the arrows of pestilence and death. The moment the idea is abandoned that everything in this universe is natural -- that all phenomena are the necessary links in the endless chain of being -- the conception of history becomes impossible that the ghost of the present is not the child of the past; the present is not the mother of the future. In the domain of superstition all is accident and caprice; and do not, I pray you, forget that the writers of our creeds and confessions of faith believed this to be a world of chance. Nothing happens by accident; nothing happens by chance. In the wide universe everything is necessarily produced, every effect has behind it a cause, every effect is in its turn a cause, and there is in the wide domain of the infinite not room enough for a miracle.

When I say this, I mean this is my idea. I may be wrong, but that is my idea. It was believed by our intelligent ancestors that all law derived its greatness and force from the fact that it had been communicated to man by ghosts. Of course, it is not pretended that the ghosts told everybody the law, but they told it to a few, and the few told it to the people, and the people, as a rule, paid them exceedingly well for the trouble. It was a long time before the people commenced making laws for themselves, and, strange as it may appear, most of their laws are vastly superior to the ghost article. Thought the web and woof of human legislation gradually began to run and shine and glitter the golden thread of justice.

During these years of darkness it was believed that, rather than see an act of injustice done, rather than see the guilty triumph, some ghost would interfere; and I do wish, from the bottom of my heart, that that was the truth. There never was forced upon my heart a more frightful conviction than this--the right does not always prevail; there never was forced upon my mind a more cruel conclusion this this -- innocence is not always a sufficient shield. I wish it was. I wish, too, that man suffered nothing but that which he brings upon himself; and yet I find that in none districts in India, between the 1st day of last January and the 1st day of June, 2,800,000 people starved to death, and that little children, with their lips upon the breasts of famine, died, wasted away. And why, simply because a little while before the wind did not veer the one-hundredth part of a degree, and send clouds over the country, freighted with rain, freighted with love and joy. But if that wind had just turned that way there would have been happy men, women and children, all clad in the garments of health. I wish that I could know in my heart that there was some power that would see to it that men and women got exact justice somewhere. I do wish that I knew the right would prevail -- that innocence was an infinite shield.

During these years it was believed that rather than see an act of injustice done, some ghost would interfere. This belief, as a rule, gave great satisfaction to the victorious party, and, as the mother man was dead, no complaint was ever made by him. This doctrine was a sanctification of brute force and chance. Prisoners were made to grasp hot irons, and if it burned them their guilt was established. Others were tied hands and feet and cast into the sea, and if they sank, the verdict of guilt was unanimous; if they did not sink, then they said water is such a pure element that it refuses to take a guilty person, and consequently he is a witch or wizard. Why, in England, persons accused of crime could appeal to the cross, and to a piece of sacramental bread. If he could swallow this without choking he was acquitted. And this practice was continued until the time of King Edward, who was choked to death; after which it was discontinued.

Ghosts and their followers always took delight in torturing with unusual pain any infraction of their laws, and generally death was the penalty. Sometimes, when a man committed only murder, he was permitted to flee to a place of refuge--murder being only a crime against man -- but for saying certain words, or denying certain doctrines, or for worshipping wrong ghosts, or failing to pray to the right one, or for laughing at a priest, or for saying that wine was not blood, or bread was not flesh, or for failing to regard rams' horns as artillery, or for saying that a raven as a rule, was a poor landlord, death, produced by all the ways that ingenuity or hatred could devise was the penalty suffered by these men. I tell you to-night law is a growth; law is a science. Right and wrong exist in the nature of things. Things are not right because they are commanded; they are not wrong because they are prohibited. They are prohibited because we believe them wrong; they are commended because we believe them right. There are real crimes enough without creating artificial ones. All progress in legislation for a thousand years has consisted in repealing the laws of the ghosts. The idea of right and wrong is born in man's capacity to enjoy and suffer. If man could not suffer, if he could not inflict injury upon his brother, if he could neither feel nor inflict punishment, the idea of law, the idea of right, the idea of wrong, never could have entered into his brain.

If man could not suffer, if he could not inflict suffering, the word conscience never would have passed the lips of men. There is one good-happiness. There is one sin--selfishness. All laws should be for the preservation of the one and the destruction of the other. Under the regime of the ghosts the laws were not understood to exist in the nature of things; they were supposed to be irresponsible commands, and these commands were not supposed to rest upon reason; they were simply the product of arbitrary will. These penalties for the violation of those laws were as cruel as the penalties were absurd. There were over two hundred offences for which man was punished with death. Think of it! And these laws are said to have come from a most merciful God. And yet we have become civilized to that degree in this country that in the State of New York there is only one crime punishable with death. Think of it! Did I not tell you that we were now civilizing our gods? The tendency of those frightful penalties, was to blot the idea of justice from the human soul. Now, I want to show you how perfectly every department of human knowledge, or rather ignorance, was saturated with superstition. I will for a moment refer to the science of language.

It was thought by our fathers that Hebrew was the original language; that it was taught to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden by the Almighty Himself. Every fact inconsistent with the idea was thrown away. According to the ghosts, the trouble at the Tower of Babel accounted for the fact that all the people did not speak the Hebrew language. The Babel question settled all questions in the science of language. After a time so many facts were found to be so inconsistent with the Hebrew idea that it began to fall into disrepute, and other languages began to be used. Andrew Kent published a work on the science of language, in which he stated that God spoke to Adam, and Adam answered, in Hebrew, and that the serpent probably spoke to Eve in French. In 1580 another celebrated work was published at Antwerp, in which the whole matter was put at rest, showing beyond doubt that the language spoken in Paradise was neither more or less than plain Holland Dutch. Another celebrated writer, a contemporary of Sir Isaac Newton, discouraged the idea that all languages could be traced to one; he maintained that language was of natural growth; that we speak as naturally as we grow; we talk as naturally as sings a bird, or as blooms and blossoms a flower. Experience teaches us that this may be so; words are continually dying and continually being born; words are the garments of thought. Through the lapse of time some were as rude as the skins of wild beasts, and others pleasing and cultured like silk and gold. Words have been born of hatred and revenge, or love and self-sacrifice and fear, of agony and joy; the stars have fashioned them, and in them mingled the darkness and the dawn.

Every word that we get from the past is, so to speak, a mummy robed in the linen of the grave. They are the crystallizations of human history, of all that man enjoyed, of all that man has suffered, his victories and defeats, all that he has lost and won. Words are the shadows of all that has been; they are the mirrors of all that is. The ghosts also enlightened our fathers in astronomy and geology. According to them the world was made out of nothing, and a little more nothing having been taken than was used in the construction of the world, the stars were made out of the scraps that were left over. Cosmos, in the sixth century, taught that the stars were impelled by angels, who carried them upon their shoulders, rolled them in front of them, or drew them after. He also taught that each angel who pushed a star took great pains to observe what the other angels were doing, so that the relative distances between the stars might always remain the same.

He stated that this world was a vast body of water with a strip of land on the outside; that Adam and Eve lived on the outer strip; that their descendants were drowned on the outer strip, all except Noah and his family; he accounted for night and day by saying that on the outer strip of land was a mountain, around which the sun revolved, producing darkness when it was hidden from sight, and daylight when it emerged; he declared the earth to be flat. This he proved by many passages from the Bible; among other reasons for believing the earth to be flat he referred to a passage in the New Testament, which says, that "Christ shall come again in glory and power, and every eye shall see him." and said, now if the world is round how are the people on the other side going to see Christ when he comes? That settled the question, and the church not only endorsed this book but declared that whoever believed either less or more was a heretic and would be dealt with as such.

In those blessed days ignorance was a king and science was an outcast. The church knew that the moment the earth ceased to be the center of the Universe, and became a mere speck in the starry sphere of existence, every religion would become a thing of the past. In the name and by the authority of the ghosts, men enslaved their fellowmen; they trampled upon the rights of women and children. In the name and by the authority of ghosts, they bought and sold each other. They filled heaven with tyrants and the earth with slaves. They filled the present with intolerance and the future with horror. In the name and by the authority of the ghosts, they declared superstition to be the real religion. In the name and by the authority of the ghosts, they imprisoned the human mind; they polluted the conscience; they subverted justice, and they sainted hypocrisy. I have endeavored in some degree to show you what has been and always will be when men are governed by superstition.

When they destroy the sublime standard or reason; when they take the words of others and do not investigate them themselves, even the great men of those days appear nearly as weak as the most ignorant. One of the greatest men of the world, an astronomer second to none, discoverer of the three great laws that explain the solar system, was an astrologer and believed that he could predict the career of a man by finding what star was in the ascendant at his birth. He believed in what is called the music of the spheres, and he ascribed the qualities of the music -- alto, bass, tenor and treble -- to certain of the planets Another man kept an idiot, whose words he put down and then put them together in such a manner as to make promises, and waiting patiently to see that they were fulfilled. Luther believed he had actually seen the devil and discussed points of theology with him. The human mind was enchained. Every idea, almost, was a mystery. Facts were looked upon as worthless; only the wonderful was worth preserving. Devils were thought to be the most industrious beings in the Universe, and with these imps every occurrence of an unusual character was connected. There was no order, certainty; everything depended upon ghosts and phantoms, and man, for the most part, considered himself at the mercy of malevolent spirits. He protected himself as best he could with holy water, and with tapers, and wafers, and cathedrals. He made noises to frighten the ghosts and music to charm them; he fasted when he was hungry and he feasted when he was not; he believed everything unreasonable; he humbled himself; he crawled in the dust; he shut the doors and windows; and excluded every ray of light from his soul; and he delayed not a day to repair the walls of his own prison; and from the garden of the human heart they plucked and trampled into the bloody dust the flowers and blossoms; they denounced man as totally depraved; they made reason blasphemy; they made pity a crime; nothing so delighted them as painting the torments and tortures of the damned. Over the worm that never dies they grew poetic. According to them, the cries ascending from hell were the perfume of heaven.

They divided the world into saints and sinners, and all the saints were going to heaven, and all the sinners yonder. Now, then, you stand in the presence of a great disaster. A house is on fire, and there is seen at a window the frightened face of a woman with a babe in her arms, appealing for help, humanity cries out: "Will someone go to the rescue?" They do not ask for a Methodist, a Baptist, or a Catholic; they ask for a man; all at once there starts from the crowd one that nobody ever suspected of being a saint, one maybe, with a bad reputation; but he goes up the ladder and is lost in the smoke and flame; and a moment after he emerges, and the great circles of flames hiss around him; in a moment more he has reaches the window; in another moment with the woman and child in his arms, he reaches the ground and gives his fainting burden to the bystanders, and the people all stand hushed for a moment, as they always do at such times, and then the air is rent with acclamations. Tell me that that man is going to be sent to hell, to eternal flames, who is willing to risk his life rather than a woman and child should suffer from the fire one moment! I despise that doctrine of hell! Any man that believes in eternal hell is afflicted with at least two diseases -- petrifaction of the heart and petrifaction of the brain.

I have seen upon the field of battle a boy sixteen years of age stuck by a fragment of a shell; I have seen him fall; I have seen him die with a curse upon his lips and the face of his mother in his heart. Tell me that his soul will be hurled from the field of battle where he lost his life that his country might live -- where he lost his life for the liberties of man -- tell me that he will be hurled from that field to eternal torment! I pronounce it an infamous lie. And yet according to these gentlemen that is to be the fate of nearly all the splendid fellows in this world.

I had in my possession a little while ago a piece of fresco that used to adorn a church at Stratford-upon-Avon, the place where Shakespeare lived, and there was a picture representing the morning of the resurrection and people were getting out of their graves and devils were grabbing them by their heels. And there was an immense monster, with jaws open so wide that a man could walk down its throat, and the flames were issuing there from, and there were devils driving people in droves down the throat of this monster, and there was an immense kettle in which they had put these men, and the fire was being stirred under it, and hot pitch was being poured on top, and little devils were setting it on fire; and then on the walls there were hundreds hung up by their tongues to hooks and nails; and then the saved -- there were some five or six saved -- upon the horizon, and they had a most self-satisfied grin of "I told you so."

At the risk of being tiresome, I have said that I have to show the direction of the human mind in slavery, the effects of widespread ignorance, and the result of fear. I want to convince you that every form of slavery, physical or mental, is a viper that will finally fill with poison the breast of any man alive. I want to show you that there should be republicanism in the domain of thoughts as well as in civil government. The first step toward progress is for man to cease to be the slaves of the creatures of his creation. Men found at last that the event is more valuable than the prophecy, especially if it never comes to pass. They found that diseases were not produced by spirits; that they could not be cured by frightening them away. they found that death was as natural as life. They began to study the anatomy and chemistry of the human body, and they found that all was natural, and the conjuror and the sorcerer were dismissed, and the physician and surgeon were employed. They learned that being born under a star or planet had nothing to do with their luck; the astrologer was discharged and the astronomer took his place. They found that diseases were produced as easily as the grass, and were not sent as punishment on men for failing to believe a creed. They found that man through intelligence, could take advantage of the affairs of nature; that he could make the waves, the winds, the flames, and the lightnings slaves at his bidding to administer to his wants; they found the ghosts knew nothing of benefit to man; that they were entirely ignorant of history; that they were bad doctors and worse surgeons; that they knew nothing of the law and less of justice; that they were poor politicians; that they were tyrants, and that they were without brains and utterly destitute of hearts.

The condition of this world during the dark ages shows exactly the result of enslaving the souls of men. In those days there was no liberty. Liberty was despised, and the laborer was considered but little above the beast. Ignorance, list a vast cowl covered the brain of the world; superstition ran riot, and credulity sat upon the throne of the soul. Murder and hypocrisy were the companions of man, ad industry was a slave. Every country maintained that it was no robbery to take the property of Mohammedans by force, and no murder to kill the owner. Lord Bacon was the first man who maintained that a Christian country was bound to keep its plighted faith with a Mohammedan nation. Every man who could read or write was suspected of being a heretic in those days. Only one person in 40,000 could read or write. All thought was discouraged. The whole earth was ruled by the mitre and sceptre, by the altar and throne, by fear and force, by ignorance and faith, by ghouls and ghosts. In the 15th century the following law was in force in England: "Whosoever reads the Scripture in the mother tongue shall forfeit land, cattle, life and goods, for themselves and their heirs forever, and should be condemned for heretics to God, enemies to the crown, and traitors to the land."

During this period this law was in force thirty-nine were hanged and their bodies burned. In the 16th century men were burned because they failed to kneel to a procession of monks. Even the Reformers, so called, had no idea of liberty only when in the minority; the moment they were clothed with power they began to exterminate with fire and sword. Castillo--and I want you to recollect it--was the first minister in the world that declared in favor of universal toleration. Castillo was pursued by John Calvin like a wild beast. Calvin said that by such a monstrous doctrine he crucified Christ afresh, and they pursued that man until he died; recollect it! They can't do that nowadays! You don't know how splendid I feel about the liberty I have. The horizon is filled with glory and the air is filled with wings. If there are nay in this world who think they had better not tell what they really think because it will take bread from their little children, because it will take clothing from their families, don't do it! Don't make martyrs of yourselves! I don't believe in martyrdom! Go right along with them; go to church and say amen as near the right place as you can. I will do your talking for you. They can't take the bread away from me. I will talk. Bodemus, a lawyer of France, wrote a few words in favor of freedom of conscience. Montaigne was the first to raise his voice against torture in France; but what was the voice of one man against the terrible cry of ignorant, infatuated, malevolent millions! I intend to do what little I can, and I am going to do it kindly. I am going to appeal to reason and to charity, to justice, to science, and to the future. For my part, I glory in the fact that in the New World, in the United States, liberty of conscience was first granted to man, and that the Constitution of the United States was the first great decree entered in the high court of human equity forever divorcing Church and State. It is the grandest step ever taken by the human race; and the Declaration of Independence was the first document that retired ghosts from politics. It is the first document that said authority does not come from the phantoms of the air; authority is not from that direction; it comes from the people themselves. The Declaration of Independence enthroned man and dethroned the phantoms. You will ask what has caused this change in three hundred years. I answer, the inventions and discoveries of the few; the brave thoughts and heroic utterances of the few; the acquisitions of a few facts; getting acquainted with our mother, Nature. Besides this, you must remember that every wrong in some way, tends to abolish itself. It is hard to make a lie last always. A lie will not fit the truth; it will only fit another lie told on purpose to fit it. Nothing but truth lives.

The nobles and kings quarreled; the priests began to dispute, and the millions began to get their rights. In 1441 printing was discovered. At that time the past was a vast cemetery without an epitaph. The ideas of men had mostly perished in the brains that had produced them. Printing gives an opening for thought; it preserves ideas; it made it possible for a man to bequeath to the world the wealth of his thoughts. About the same time, or a little before, the Moors had gone into Europe, and it can be truthfully said that science was thrust into the brain of Europe upon the point of a Moorish lance. They gave us paper, and what is printing without paper? -- a bird without wings. I tell you, paper has been a splendid thing.

The discovery of America, whose shores were trod by the restless feet of adventure and the people of every nation -- out of this strange mingling of facts and fancies came the great Republic. Every fact has pushed a superstition from the brain and a ghost from the cloud. Every mechanical art is an educator; every loom, every reaper, every mower, every steamboat, every locomotive, every engine, every press, every telegraph is a missionary of science and an apostle of progress; every mill, every furnace with its wheels and levers, in which something is made for the convenience, for the use and the comfort and the well-being of man, is my kind of church, and every schoolhouse is a temple. Education is the most radical thing in this world. To teach the alphabet is to inaugurate a revolution; to build a schoolhouse is to construct a fort; every library is an arsenal filled with the weapons and ammunition of progress; every fact is a monitor with sides of iron and a turret of steel. I thank the inventors and discoverers. I thank Columbus and Magellan. I thank Locke and Hume, Bacon and Shakespeare. I thank Fulton and Watts, Franklin and Morse, who made lightning the messenger of man. I thank Luther for protesting against the abuses of the Church, but denounce him because he was an enemy of liberty. I thank Calvin for writing a book in favor of religious freedom, but I abhor him because he burned Servetus. I thank the Puritans for saying that resistance to tyrants is obedience to God, and yet I am compelled to admit that they were tyrants themselves. I thank Thomas Paine because he was a believer in liberty. I thank Voltaire, that great man who for half a century was the intellectual monarch of Europe, and who, from his throne at the foot of the Alps point the finger of scorn at every hypocrite in Christendom. I thank the inventors, I thank the discoverers, the thinkers and the scientists, and I thank the honest millions who have toiled. I thank the brave men with brave thoughts. They are the Atlases upon whose broad and mighty shoulders rest the grand fabric of civilization; they are the men who have broken, and are still breaking, the chains of superstition.

We are beginning to learn that to swap off a superstition for a fact, to ascertain the real, is to progress. All that gives us better bodies and minds and clothes and food and pictures, grander music, better heads, better hearts, and that makes us better husbands and wives and better citizens, all these things combined produce what we call the progress of the human race. Man advances only as he overcomes the obstacles of nature. It is done by labor and thought. Labor is the foundation. Without great labor on the part of those who conduct all great industries of life, of those who battle with the obstacles of the sea, on the part of the inventors, the discovers, and the brave heroic thinkers, no surplus is produced; and from the surplus produced by labor spring the school and universities, the painters, the sculptors, the poets, the hopes, the loves and the aspirations of the world.

The surplus has given us the books. It has given us all there is of beauty and eloquence. I am aware there is a vast difference of opinion as to what progress is, and that many denounce my ideas. I know there are many worshipers of the past. They see no beauty in anything from which they do not blow the dust of ages with the breath of praise. They see nothing like the ancients; no orators, poets or statesmen like those which have been dust for thousands of years.

In a sermon on a certain evening, some time ago, the Rev. Dr. Magee of Albany, N.Y., stated that Colonel Ingersoll, referring to Jesus Christ, called him "a dirty little Jew." I denounce that as a dirty little lie.

I have as much reverence for any man who ever did what he believed was right and died in order to benefit mankind, as any man in this world. Do they treat an opponent with fairness? Are they investigating? Do they pull forward or do they hold back? Is science indebted to the Church for a single fact? Let us know what it is. What church has been the asylum for a persecuted truth? What reform has been inaugurated by the Church? Did the Church abolish slavery? No. Who commenced it? Such men as Garrison ad Pillsbury and Wendell Phillips. They were the Titans that attacked the monster, and not a solitary one of them even belonged to a church. Has the church raised its voice against war? No. Are men restrained by what you call religion? I used to think they were not; now I admit they are. No man has ever been restrained from the commission of a real crime, but from an artificial one he has. There was a man who committed murder. They got the evidence, but he confessed that he did it. "What did you do it for?" "Money." "Did you get any money?" "Yes." "How much?" "Fifteen cents." "What kind of a man was he?" "A laboring man I killed." "What did you do with the money?" "I bought liquor with it." "Did he have anything else?" "I think he had some meat and bread." "What did you do with that?" "I ate the bread and threw away the meat; it was Friday." So you see it will restrain in some things.

Just to the extent that man has freed himself from the dominion of ghosts he has advanced; to that extent he has freed himself from the tyrant's poison. Man has found that he must give liberty to others in order to have it himself. He has found that a master is a slave; that a tyrant is also a slave. He has found that governments should be administered by men for men; that the rights of all are to be protected; that woman is at least the equal of man; that men existed before books; that all creeds were made by men; that the few have a right to contradict what the pulpit asserts; that man is responsible to himself and to others. True religion must be free; without liberty the brain is a dungeon and the mind the convict. The slave may bow and cringe and crawl, but he cannot worship, he cannot adore. True religion is the perfume of the free and grateful air. True religion is the subordination of the passions to the intellect. It is not a creed; it is a life. The theory that is afraid of investigation is not deserving of a place in the human mind.

I do not pretend to tell what all the truth is. I do not pretend to have fathomed the abyss, nor to have floated on outstretched wings level with the heights of thought. I simply plead for freedom. I denounce the cruelties and horrors of slavery. I ask for light and air for the souls of men. I say, take off those chains -- break those manacles -- free those limbs -- release that brain. I plead for the right to think -- to reason -- to investigate. I ask that the future may be enriched with the honest thoughts of men. I implore every human being to be a soldier in the army of progress, I will not invade the rights of others. You have no right to erect your toll-gates upon the highways of thought. You have no right to leap from the hedges of superstition and strike down the pioneers of the human race. You have no right to sacrifice the liberties of man upon the altars of ghosts. Believe what you may; preach what you desire; have all the forms and ceremonies you please. Exercise your liberties in your own way, and extend to all others the same right.

I attack the monsters, the phantoms of imagination, that have ruled the world. I attack slavery. I ask for room -- room for the human mind.

Why should we sacrifice a real world that we have for one we know not of? Why should we enslave ourselves? Why should we forge fetters for our own hands? Why should we be slaves of phantoms--phantoms that we create ourselves? The darkness of barbarism was the womb of these shadows. In the light of science they cannot cloud the sky forever. They have reddened the hands of man with innocent blood. They made the cradle a curse and the grave a place of torment.

They blinded the eyes and stopped the ears of the human race. They subverted all the ideas of justice by promising infinite punishment for finite offenses.

I plead for the light, for air, for opportunity. I plead for individual independence. I plead for the rights of labor and of thought. I plead for a chainless future. Let the ghosts go--justice remains. Let them disappear -- men, women and children are left. Let the monster fade away -- the world remains, with all its hills and seas and plains, with its seasons of smiles and frowns, its springs of leaf and bud, its summer of shade and flower, its autumn with the laden boughs, when

The withered banners of the corn are still,
And gathered fields are growing strangely wan,
While Death, poetic Death, with hands that color
Whate'er they touch, weaves in the autumn wood
Her tapestries of gold and brown.

The world remains with its winters and homes and firesides, where grow and bloom the virtues of our race. All these are left; and music, with its sad and thrilling voice, and all there is of art and song and hope, and love and aspiration high. All these remain. Let the ghosts go -- we will worship them no more.

Man is greater than these phantoms. Humanity is grander than all the creeds, than all the books. Humanity is the great sea, and these creeds and books and religions are but the waves of a day. Humanity is the sky, and, these religions and dogmas and theories are but the mists and clouds changing continually, destined finally to melt away.

Let the ghosts go. We will worship them no more. Let them cover their eyeless sockets with their fleshless hands and fade forever from the imaginations of men.

Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you a thousand times.

Skulls

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: Man advances just in the proportion that he mingles his thoughts with his labors--just in the proportion he takes advantage of the forces of nature; just in proportion as he loses superstition and gains confidence in himself. (Applause.) Man advances as he ceases to fear the gods and learns to love his fellowmen. (Applause.) It is all, in my judgment, a question of intellectual development. Tell me the religion of any man and I will tell you the degree he marks on the intellectual thermometer of the world. It is a simple question of brain. Those among us who are the nearest barbarism have a barbarian religion. Those who are nearest civilization have the least superstition. (Applause.) It is, I say, a simple question of brain, and I want, in the first place, to lay the foundation to prove that assertion.

A little while ago I saw models of nearly everything that man has made. I saw models of all the water craft, from the rude dug-out in which floated a naked savage -- one of our ancestors -- a naked savage, with teeth twice as long as his forehead was high, with a spoonful of brains in the back of his orthodox head -- I saw models of all the water craft of the world, from that dug-out up to a man-of-war, that carries a hundred guns and miles of canvas; from that dug-out to the steamship that turns its brave prow from the port of New York, with a compass like a conscience, crossing three thousand miles of billows without missing a throb or beat of its mighty iron heart from shore to shore. And I saw at the same time the painting of the world, from the rude daub of yellow mud to the landscapes that enrich palaces and adorn houses of what were once called the common people.

I saw also their sculpture, from the rude god with four legs, a half-dozen arms, several noses, and two or three rows of ears, and one little, contemptible, brainless head, up to the figures of to-day-- to the marbles that genius has clad in such a personality that it seems almost impudent to touch them without an introduction.

I saw their books written upon the skins of wild beasts--upon shoulder blades of sheep-books written upon leaves, upon bark, up to the splendid volumes that enrich the libraries of our day. When I speak of libraries, I think of the remark of Plato: “A house that has a library in it has a soul.”

I saw at the same time the offensive weapons that man has made from a club, such as was grasped by that same savage when he crawled from his den in the ground and hunted a snake for his dinner; form that club to the boomerang, to the sword, to the cross-bow, to the blunderbuss, to the flintlock, to the cap-lock, to the needle-gun, up to a cannon cast by Krupp, capable of hurling a ball weighing two thousand pounds through eighteen inches of solid steel.

I saw, too, the armor from the shell of a turtle that one of our brave ancestors lashed upon his breast when he went to fight for his country; the skin of a porcupine, dried with the quills on, which this same savage pulled over his orthodox head, up to the shirts of mail that were worn in the middle ages, that laughed at the edge of the sword and defied the point of the spear; up to a monitor clad in complete steel.

And I say orthodox not only in the matter of religion, but in everything. Whoever has quit growing, he is orthodox (applause) whether in art, politics, religion, philosophy--no matter what. Whoever thinks he has found it all out, he is orthodox.

Orthodox is that which rots, and heresy is that which grows forever. Orthodoxy is the night of the past, full of the darkness of superstition, and heresy is the eternal coming day, the light of which strikes the grand foreheads of the intellectual pioneers of the world. (Applause.) I saw their implements of agriculture, from the plow made of a crooked stick, attached to the horn of an ox by some twisted straw, with which our ancestors scraped the earth, and from that to the agricultural implements of this generation, that make it possible for a man to cultivate soil without being an ignoramus.

In the old time there was but one crop; and when the rain did not come in answer to prayer of hypocrites, a famine came and people fell upon their knees. At that time they were full of superstition. They were frightened all the time for fear that some god would be enraged at his poor, hapless, feeble and starving children. But now, instead of depending upon one crop they have several, and if there is not rain enough for one there may be enough for another. And if the frosts kill all, we have railroads and steamships enough to bring what we need from some other part of the world. Since man has found out something about agriculture, the gods have retired from the business of producing famines.

I saw at the same time their musical instruments, from the tom-tom--that is, a hoop with a couple strings of raw-hide drawn across it--from that tom-tom, up to the instruments we have to-day, that make the common air blossom with melody, and I said to myself there is a regular advancement.

I saw at the same time a row of human skulls, from the lowest skull that has been found--the Neanderthal skull--skulls from central Africa, skulls from the bushmen of Australia--skulls from the farthest isles of the Pacific sea--up to the best skulls of the last generation--and I noticed that there was the same difference between those skulls that there was between the products of those skulls, and I said to myself: "After all it is a simple question of intellectual development." There was the same difference between those skulls, that there was between the dug-out and the man-of-war and the steamship, between the club and the Krupp gun, between the yellow daub and the landscapes, between the tom-tom and an opera by Verdi.

The first and lowest skull in this row was the den in which crawled the base and meaner instincts of mankind, and the last was a temple in which dwelt joy, liberty and love.

And I said to myself it is all a question of intellectual development. Man has advanced just as he has mingled his thought with his labor. As he has grown he has taken advantage of the forces of nature; first of the moving wind, then of falling water, and finally of steam. From one step to another he has obtained better houses, better clothes and better books, and he has done it by holding out every incentive to the ingenious to produce them. The world has said, give us better clubs and guns and cannons with which to kill our fellow Christians. (Laughter.) And whoever will give us better weapons and better music, and better houses to live in, we will robe him in wealth, crown him in honor, and render and render his name deathless. Every incentive was held out to every human being to improve these things, and that is the reason we have advanced in all mechanical arts. But that gentleman in the dug-out not only had his ideas about politics, mechanics and agriculture; he had ideas also about religion. His idea about politics was “right makes might.” It will be thousands of years, maybe, before mankind will believe in the saying that “right makes might.” He had his religion. That low skull was a devil factory. He believed in hell, and the belief was a consolation to him. He could see the waves of God’s wrath dashing against the rocks of dark damnation. He could see tossing in the white-caps the faces of women, and stretching above the crests the dimpled hands of children; and he regarded these things as the justice and mercy of God. And all to-day who believe in this eternal punishment are the barbarians of the nineteenth century. That man believed in a devil, too that had a long tail terminating with a fiery dart; that had wings like a bat--a devil that had a cheerful habit of breathing brimstone, that had a cloven foot, such as some orthodox clergymen seem to think I have. (Laughter.) And there has not been a patentable improvement made upon the devil in all the years since. (Laughter.) The moment you drive the devil out of theology, there is nothing left worth speaking of. (Laughter.) The moment they drop the devil away goes atonement. The moment they kill the devil, their whole scheme of salvation has lost all of its interest for mankind. You must keep the devil and you much keep hell. You must keep the devil, because with no devil no priest is necessary. Now, all I ask, is this same privilege, to improve upon his religion as upon his dug-out, and that is what I am going to do, the best I can. No matter what church you belong to, or what church belongs to us. Let us be honor bright and fair.

I want to ask you: Suppose the king, if there was one, and the priest, if there was one at that time, had told these gentlemen in the dug-out: “That dug-out is the best boat that can ever be built by man; the pattern of that came from on high, from the great God of storm and flood, and any man who says that he can improve it by putting a stick in the middle of it and a rag on the stick, is an infidel, and, shall be burned at the stake;” what in your judgment--honor bright--would have been the effect upon the circumnavigation of the globe?

Suppose the king, if there was one, and the priest, if there was one--and I presume there was a priest, because it was a very ignorant age--suppose this king and priest had said: “That tom-tom is the most beautiful instrument of music of which any man can conceive; that is the kind of music they have in heaven; an angel sitting upon the edge of a glorified cloud, golden in the setting sun, playing upon that tom-tom, became so enraptured, so entranced with her own music, that in a kind of ecstasy she dropped it--that is how we obtained it and any man who says it can be improved by putting a back and front to it, and four strings, and a bridge, and getting a bow of hair with rosin, is a blaspheming wretch, and shall die the death.” --I ask you, what effect that would have had upon music? If that course had been pursued, would the human ears, in your judgment ever have been enriched with the divine symphonies of Beethoven?

Suppose the king, if there was one, and the priest, had said: “That crooked stick is the best plow that can be invented; the pattern of that plow was given to a pious farmer in an exceedingly holy dream, and that twisted straw is the ne plus ultra of all twisted things, and any man who says he can make an improvement upon that plow is an atheist;” what, in your judgment would have been the effect upon the science of agriculture?

Now, all I ask is the same privilege to improve upon his religion as upon his mechanical arts. Why don’t we go back to that period to get the telegraph? Because they were barbarians. And shall we go to barbarians to get our religion? What is religion? Religion simply embraces the duty of man to man. Religion is simply the science of human duty and the duty of man to man--that is what it is. It is the highest science of all. And all other sciences are as nothing, except as they contribute to the happiness of man. The science of religion is the highest of all, embracing all others. And shall we go to the barbarians to learn the science of sciences? The nineteenth century knows more about religion than all the centuries dead. There is more real charity in the world to-day than ever before; there is more thought to-day than ever before. Woman is glorified to-day as she never was before in the history of the world. (Applause.) There are more happy families now than ever before; more children treated as though they were tender blossoms than as though they were brutes than in any other time or nation. Religion is simply a duty a man owes to man; and when you fall upon your knees and pray for something you know not of you neither benefit the one you pray for nor yourself. One ounce of restitution is worth a million of repentance anywhere, and a man will get along faster by helping himself a minute than by praying ten years for somebody to help him. Suppose you were coming along the street, and found a party of men and women on their knees praying to a bank, and you asked them, “Have any of you borrowed money of this bank?” “No, but our fathers, they, too, prayed to this bank.” “Did they ever get any?” “No, not that we ever heard of.” I would tell them to get up. It is easier to earn it, and it is far more manly.

Now, in the old times of which I have spoken, they say, “We can make all men think alike.” All the mechanical ingenuity of this earth cannot make two clocks run alike, and how are you going to make millions of people of different quantities and qualities and amount of brain, clad in this living robe of passionate flesh, how are you going to make millions of them think alike? if the infinite God, if there is one, who made us, wished us to think alike why did he give a spoonful of brains to one man and a bushel to another? Why is it that we have all degrees of humanity, from the idiot to the genius, if it was intended that all should think alike? I say our fathers concluded they would do this by force; and I used to read in books how they persecuted mankind, and, do you know, I never appreciated it. I did not. I read it, but it did not burn itself, as it were, in to my very soul. What infamies had been committed in the name of religion, and I never fully appreciated it until, a little while ago, I saw the iron arguments our fathers used to use. I tell you the reason we are through that is because we have better brains than our fathers had. Since that day we have become intellectually developed, and there is more real brain and real good sense in the world to-day than in any other period of its history. And that is the reason we have more liberty; that is the reason we have more kindness. But I say I saw these from arguments our fathers used to use. I saw there the thumbscrew--two innocent looking pieces of iron, armed on the inner surface with protuberances to prevent their slipping--and when some men denied the efficacy of baptism, or maybe said, “I do not believe that the whale ever swallowed a man to keep him from drowning,” then they put these little pieces of iron upon his thumbs and there was a screw at each end, and then in the name of love and forgiveness, they began screwing these pieces of iron together. A great many men, when they commenced, would say “I recant.” I expect I would have been one of them. (Laughter.) I would have said, “Now you stop that; I will admit anything on earth that you want. (Laughter.) I will admit there is one God or a million, one hell or a billion; suit yourselves, but stop that.” (Laughter.) But I want to say, the thumbscrew having got out of the way, I am going to have my say.

There was now and then some man who wouldn’t turn Judas Iscariot to his own soul; there was now and then a man willing to die for his conviction, and if it were not for such men we would be savages to-night. Had it not been for a few brave and heroic souls in every age we would have been naked savages this moment, with pictures of wild beasts tattooed upon our naked breasts, dancing around a dried snake fetich. And I to-night thank every good and noble man who stood up in the face of opposition and hatred and death for what he believed to be right. And then they screwed this thumbscrew down as far as they could and threw him into some dungeon, where, in throbbing misery and the darkness of night, he dreams of the damned. And that was done in the name of universal love! I saw there at the same time, what they called the “collar of torture.” Imagine a circle of iron, and on the inside of that more than a hundred points as sharp as needles. This being fastened upon the threat, the sufferer could not stir without being punctured by these needles, and in a little while the throat would begin to swell, and finally suffocation would end the agonies of that man, when maybe the only crime he had committed was to say, with tears upon his sublime cheeks, “I do not believe that God, the father of us all, will damn to eternal punishment any of the children of man.” (Applause.) Think of it! And I saw there, at the same time, another instrument, called the “scavenger’s daughter,” of which you have all read.

I saw at the same time the rack. This was a box like the bed of a wagon, with a windlass at each end and ratchets to prevent slipping. Over each windlass went chains and when some man had, for instance, denied the doctrine of the trinity--a doctrine it is necessary to believe before you get to heaven, but, thank the Lord, you don’t have to understand it. (Applause.) This man merely denied that three times one was one, or maybe he denied that there was ever any son in the world exactly as old as his father, or that there ever was a boy eternally older than his mother--then they put that man on the rack. Nobody has ever been persecuted for calling God bad--it has always been for calling him good. When I stand here to say that if there is a hell, God is a fiend, they say that is very bad. They say I am trying to tear down the institutions of public virtue. But let me tell you one thing. There is no reformation in fear. You can scare a man so that he won’t do it sometimes, but I will swear you can’t scare him so bad that he won’t want to do it. (Laughter.) Then they put this man on the rack, and priests began turning these levers, and kept turning until the ankles, the hips, the shoulders, the elbows, the wrists and all the joints of the victim were dislocated, and he was wet with agony, and standing by was a physician to feel his pulse. What for? To save his life? Yes. In mercy? No. But in order that they might have the pleasure of racking him once more. And this was the Christian spirit. This was done in the name of civilization, in the name of religion, and all the wretches who did it died in peace. There is not an orthodox preacher in the city that has not a respect for every one of them. As, for instance for John Calvin, who was a murderer and nothing but a murderer--(applause)--who would have disgraced an ordinary gallows by being hanged upon it. These men when they came to die were not frightened. God did not send any devils into their deathrooms to make mouths at them. He reserved them for Voltaire, who brought religious liberty to France. He reserved them for Thomas Paine (tremendous applause at the name of Paine)--who did more for liberty than all the churches. (Applause.)

But all the inquisitors died with the white hands of peace folded over the breast of piety. And when they died the room was filled with the rustle of the wings of angels waiting to bear the wretches to heaven.

For two hundred years the Christians of the United States deliberately turned the cross of Christ into a whipping-post. Christians bred hounds to catch other Christians. Let me show you what the Bible has done for mankind. “Servants, be obedient to your masters.” The only word coming from the sweet heaven was, “Servants, obey your masters.” Frederick Douglass told me he had lectured upon the subject of freedom twenty years before he was permitted to set his foot in a church. (Applause.) I tell you the world has not been fit to live in for twenty-five years. Then all the people used to cringe and crawl to preachers. Mr. Buckle, in his history of civilization, shows that men were even struck dead for speaking impolitely to a priest. (Laughter.) God would not stand it. See how they used to crawl before cardinals, bishops and popes. It is not so now. Before wealth they bowed to the very earth, and in the presence of titles they became abject. All this is slowly but surely changing. We no longer bow to men simply because they are rich. Our fathers worshiped the golden calf. The worst you can say of an American now is, he worships the gold of the calf. Even the calf is beginning to see this distinction. The time will come when, no matter how much money a man has, he will not be respected unless he is using it for the benefit of his fellow men. It will soon be here. It no longer satisfies the ambition of a great man to be king or emperor. The last Napoleon was not satisfied with being the Emperor of the French. He was not satisfied with having a circlet of gold about his head. He wanted some evidence that he had something of value within his head. So he wrote Julius Caesar, that he might become a member of the French Academy. The emperors, the kings, the popes, no longer tower above their fellows. Compare, for instance, King William and Helmholtz. The king is one of the appointed of the Most High, as they say-- one upon whose head has been poured the divine petroleum of authority. Compare this king with Helmholtz, who towers an intellectual Colossus above the crowned mediocrity. Compare George Eliot with Queen Victoria. The queen is clothed in garments given her by blind fortune and unreasoning chance while George Eliot wears robes of glory woven in the looms of her own genius.

And so it is the world over. The time is coming when a man will be rated at his real worth, and that by his brain and heart. We care nothing now about an officer unless he fills his place. No matter if he is president if he rattles in the place nobody cares anything about him. I might give you instances in point-(laughter)-but I won’t. The world is getting better and grander and nobler every day.

I believe in marriage. If there is any heaven upon earth it is in the family by the fireside, and the family is a unit of government. Without the family relation tender, pure and true civilization is impossible. Ladies, the ornaments you wear upon your persons to-night are but the souvenirs of your mother’s bondage. The chains around your necks, and the bracelets clasped upon your white arms by the thrilled hand of love, have been changed by the wand of civilization to shining, glittering gold.

Nearly every civilization in this world accounts for the devilment in it by the crimes of woman. They say woman brought all the trouble into the world. I don’t care if she did. I would rather live in a world full of trouble with the woman I love, than to live in heaven with nobody but men. I read a book, an account of the creation of the world. That book I have taken pains to say was not written by any God. And why do I say so? Because I can write a far better book myself. Because it is full of barbarisms. Several ministers in this city have undertaken to answer me--notably those who don’t believe the Bible themselves. I want to ask these men one thing. I want them to be fair. Every minister in the city of Chicago that answers me, and those who have answered me, had better answer me again--I want them to say, and without any sort of evasion--without resorting to any pious tricks--I want them to say whether they believe that the Eternal God of this universe ever upheld the crime of polygamy. Say it square and fair. Don’t begin to talk about that being a peculiar time, and that God was easy on the prejudices of those old fellows. I want them to answer that question, and to answer it squarely, which they haven’t done. Did this God, which you pretend to worship, ever sanction the institution of human slavery? Now, answer fair. Don’t slide around it. Don’t begin and answer what a bad man I am, nor what a good man Moses was. (Laughter.) Stick to the text. Do you believe in a God that allowed a man to be sold from his children? Do you worship such an infinite monster? (Applause.) And if you do, tell your congregation whether you are not ashamed to admit it. Let every minister who answers me again tell whether he believes God commanded his general to kill the little dimpled babe in the cradle. Let him answer it. Don’t say those were very bad times. Tell whether he did it or not, and then your people will know whether to hate that God or not. Be honest. Tell them whether that God in war captured young maidens and turned them over to the soldiers; and then ask the wives and sweet girls of your congregation to get down on their knees and worship the infinite fiend that did this thing. (Applause.) Answer! It is your God I am talking about, and if that is what God did please tell your congregation what, under the circumstances, the devil would have done. (Applause.) Don’t tell your people that is a poem. Don’t tell your people that is pictorial. That won’t do. Tell your people whether it is true or false. That is what I want you to do.

In this book I have read about God’s making the world and one man. That is all he intended to make. The making of woman was a second thought, though I am willing to admit that, as a rule, second thought are best. This God made a man and put him in a public park. (Laughter.) In a little while he noticed that the man got lonesome; then He found He had made a mistake, and that He would have to make somebody to keep him company. But having used up all the nothing He originally used in making the world and one man, He had to take part of a man to start a woman with. So He causes sleep to fall on this man--now, understand me, I do not say this story is true. After the sleep had fallen on this man the Supreme Being took a rib, or, as the French would call it, a cutlet, out of him,and from that He made a woman; and I am willing to swear, taking into account the amount and quality of the raw material used, this was the most magnificent job ever accomplished in this world. (Uproarious laughter and applause.) Well, after he got the woman done, she was brought to the man, not to see how she liked him but to see how he liked her. He liked her, and they started housekeeping; and they were told of certain things they might do, and one thing they could not do--and of course they did it. I would have done it in fifteen minutes, and I know it. There wouldn’t have been an apple on that tree half an hour from date, and the limbs could have been full of clubs. And then they were turned out of the park and extra policemen were put on to keep them from getting back. And then trouble commenced, and we have been at it ever since.

Nearly all of the religions of this world account for the existence of evil by such a story as that! Well, I read in another book what appeared to be an account of the same transaction. It was written about four thousand years before the other. All commentators agree that the one that was written last was the original, and that the one that was written first was copied from the one that was written last. (Laughter.) But I would advise you all not to allow your creed to be disturbed by a little matter of four or five thousand years. It is a great deal better to be mistaken in dates than go to the devil.

In this other account the Supreme Brahma made up his mind to make the world and a man and a woman. He made the world, and he made the man and then the woman, and put them on the island of Ceylon. According to the account, it was the most beautiful island of which man can conceive. Such birds, such songs, such flowers and such verdure! And the branches of the trees were so arranged that when the wind swept through from every tree was a thousand Æolian harps. Brahma, when he put them there, said: “Let them have a period of courtship, for it is my desire and will that true love should forever precede marriage.” When I read that, it was so much more beautiful and lofty than the other, that I said to myself: “If either one of these stories ever turns out to be true, I hope it will be this one.” Then they had their courtship, with the nightingale singing and the stars shining and flowers blooming; and they fell in love. Imagine that courtship! No prospective fathers or mother-in-law; no prying and gossiping neighbors; nobody to say, “Young man, how do you expect to support her?”Nothing of that kind--nothing but the nightingale singing its song of joy and pain, as though the thorn already touched its heart. They were married by supreme Brahma, and he said to them: “Remain here; you must never leave this island.” Well, after a little while the man--and his name was Adami, and the woman’s name was Heva--said to Heva: “I believe I’ll look about a little.” He wanted to go west. He went to the western extremity of the island, where there was a narrow neck of land connecting it with the mainland; and the devil, who is always playing pranks with us, produced a mirage, and when Adami looked over to the mainland, such hills and vales, such dells and dales, such mountains crowned with snow, such cataracts clad in bows of glory did he see there, that he went back and told Heva: “The country over there is a thousand times better than this; let us migrate.” She, like every other woman that ever live, said “Let well enough alone; we have all we want; let us stay here.” But he said: “No, let us go.” So she followed him; and when they came to this narrow neck of land he took her on his back like a gentleman and carried her over. But the moment they got over they heard a crash, and looking back they discovered that this narrow neck of land had fallen into the sea. The mirage had disappeared and there was naught but rocks and sand; and then the Supreme Brahma cursed them both to the lowest hell. Then it was that the man spoke--and I have liked him ever since for it: “Curse me, but curse not her; it was not her fault, it was mine.” That’s the kind of a man to start a world with. (Applause.) The Supreme Brahma said: “I will save her, but not thee.” And then spoke out of her fullness of love, out of a heart in which there was love enough to make all her daughters rich in holy affection, and said: “If thou wilt not spare him, spare neither me; I do not wish to live without him, I love him.” Then the Supreme Brahma said--and I have liked him ever since I read it: “I will spare you both, and watch over you and your children forever.” Honor bright, is that not the better and grander story? And in that same book I find this: “Man is strength; woman is love. When one man loves the one woman, and the woman loves the one man, the very angels leave heaven and come and sit in that house and sing with joy.” In the same book this: “Blessed is that man and beloved of all the gods who is afraid of no man and of whom no man is afraid.” Magnificent character! A missionary certainly ought to talk to that man. And I find this: “Never will I accept private individual salvation, but rather will I say and work and strive and suffer until every soul from every star has been brought home to God.” Compare that with the Christian that expects to go to heaven while the world is rolling over Niagara to an eternal and unending hell. So I say that religion lays all the crime and troubles of this world at the beautiful feet of woman. And then the church has the impudence to say that it has exalted woman. I believe that marriage is the perfect partnership; that woman has every right that man has--and one more--the right to be protected. Above all men in the world, I hate a stingy man--a man that will make his wife beg for money.

“What did you do with the dollar I gave you last week? (Laughter.) ”And what are you going to do with this?” It is vile. No gentleman will ever be satisfied with the love of a beggar and a slave--no gentleman will ever be satisfied except with the love of an equal. (Applause.) What kind of children does a man expect to have with a beggar for their mother? A man cannot be so poor but that he cannot be generous; and if you have got to spend it, spend it like a lord--spend it as thought it were a dry lead and you the owner of unbounded forests--spend it as though you had a wilderness of your own. That’s the way to spend it. I had rather be a beggar and spend my last dollar like a king, than be a king and spend my money like a beggar. If it has to go let it go. And this is my advice to the poor. For you can never be so poor that what you do you can’t do in a grand and manly way. I hate a cross man. What right has a man to assassinate the joy of life? When you go home you ought to go like a ray of light--so that it will, even in the night, burst out of the doors and window and illuminate the darkness. Some men think their mighty brains have been in a turmoil; they have been thinking about who will be alderman from the fifth ward; they have been thinking about politics, great and mighty questions have been engaging their minds; they have bought calico at five cents or six, and want to sell it at seven. Think of the intellectual strain that must have been upon that man; and when he gets home everybody in the house must look for his comfort. A woman who has only taken care of five or six children, and one or two of them sick, has been nursing them and singing to them, and trying to make one yard of cloth do the work of two, she, of course, is fresh and fine and ready to wait upon this gentleman--the head of the family--the boss. I was reading the other day of an apparatus invented for the ejectment of gentlemen who subsist upon free lunches. It is so arranged that when the fellow gets both hands into the victuals a large hand descends upon him, jams his hat over his eyes--he is seized, turned towards the door, and just in the nick of time an immense boot comes from the other side, kicks him in italics, sends him out over the sidewalk, and lands him rolling in the gutter. I never hear of such a man--a boss--that I don’t feel as though that machine ought to be brought into requisition for his benefit.

Love is the only thing that will pay 10 per cent of interest on the outlay. Love is the only thing in which the height of extravagance is the last degree of economy. (Applause.) It is the only thing, I tell you. Joy is wealth. Love is the legal tender of the soul--(laughter)--and you need not be rich to be happy. We have all been raised on success in this country. Always been talked with about being successful, and have never thought ourselves very rich unless we were the possessors of some magnificent mansion and unless our names have been between the putrid lips of rumor we could not be happy. Every boy is striving to be this and that. I tell you, the happy man is the successful man. The man that has been the emperor of one good heart, and that heart embraces all his, has been a success. (Applause.) If another has been the emperor of the round world and has never loved and been loved, his life is a failure.

It won’t do. Let us teach our children the other way, that the happy man is the successful man, and he who is a happy man is the one who always tries to make some one else happy. (Applause.)

It is not necessary to be rich in order to be happy. It is only necessary to be in love. (Laughter and applause.) Thousands of men go to college and get a certificate that they have an education, and that certificate is in Latin, and they stop studying, and in two years, to save their lives, they couldn’t read the certificate they got. (Laughter.)

It is mostly so in marrying. They stop courting when they get married. They think we have won her, and that is enough. Ah! the difference before and after! How well they looked! How bright their eyes! How light their steps and how full they were of generosity and laughter! I tell you a man should consider himself in good luck if a woman loves him when he is doing his level best. (Applause.) Good luck! Good luck! And then, do you know, I like to think that love is eternal; that if you really love the woman for her sake you will love her no matter what she may do; that if she really loves you for your sake, the same; that love does not look at alterations; through the wrinkles of time, through the mask of years, if you really loved her, you will always see the face you loved and won. And I like to think of it. If a man loves a woman she does not ever grow old to him, and the woman who loves a man does not see that he grows old. He is not decrepit to her; he is not tremulous; he is not old; he is not bowed. She always sees the same gallant fellow that won her hand and heart. I like to think of it in that way, and, as Shakespeare says: “Let time reach with his sickle as far as ever he can, although he can reach ruddy cheeks and ripe lips and flashing eyes, he cannot quite reach love.” I like to think of it. We will go down the hill of life together and enter the shadow one with the other, and as we go down we may hear the ripple of the laughter of our grandchildren, and the birds, and spring, and will sing once more upon the leafless branches of the tree of age. I love to think of it in that way--absolute equals, happy, happy and free, all our own. (Applause.)

When your child confesses to you that it has committed a fault, take that child in your arms, and let it feel your heart beat against its heart; and raise your children in the sunlight of love, and they will be sunbeams to you along the pathway of life. (Applause.) Abolish the club and the whip from the house, because if the civilized use a whip, the ignorant and brutal will use a club, and they will use it because you use a whip. (Applause.) When I was a boy there was one day in each week too good for a child to be happy in. (Laughter.) In those good old times Sunday commenced when the sun went down on Saturday night and closed when the sun went down on the Sunday night. We commenced Saturday to get a good ready. (Laughter.) And when the sun went down Saturday night there was a gloom deeper than midnight that fell upon the house. You could not crack hickory nuts then. (Laughter.) And if you were caught chewing gum it was only another evidence of the total depravity of the human heart. (Laughter.) Well, after a while we got to bed, sadly and sorrowfully, after having heard heaven thanked that we were not all in hell. (Laughter.) And I sometimes used to wonder how the mercy of God lasted as long as it did--(laughter)--because I recollected that on several occasions I had not been at school when I was supposed to be there. (Laughter.) Why I was not burned to a crisp was a mystery to me. The next morning we got up and we got ready for church---all solemn. (Laughter.) And when we got there the minister was up in the pulpit about twenty feet high--(laughter)--and he commenced at Genesis about the fall of man; and he went on to about twenty-thirdly; then he struck the second application. (Laughter.) And when he struck the application I knew he was about half way through. And then he went on to show the scheme how the Lord was satisfied with punishing the wrong man. (Laughter.) Nobody but a God would have thought of that ingenious way. (Laughter.) Well, when he got through that, then came the catechism--the chief end of man. (Laughter.) Then my turn came and we sat along on a little bench where our feet did not come within fifteen inches of the floor, and the dear old minister used to ask us: “Boys, do you know you all ought to be in hell?” (Laughter.) And we answered up as cheerfully as we could under the circumstances: “Yes, sir.” (Laughter.) “Well, boys do you know that you would go to hell if you died in your sins?” And we said: “Yes, sir.”

And then came the great test. “Boys”--I can’t get the tone, you know. (Laughter.) And do you know that is how the preachers get the bronchitis. You never heard of an auctioneer getting the bronchitis, nor the second mate on a steamboat--never. What gives it to the ministers is talking solemnly when they don’t feel that way; and it has the same influence upon the organs of speech that it would have upon the cords of the calves of your legs to walk on your tiptoes--(laughter)--and so I call bronchitis “parsonitis.” And if the ministers would all tell exactly what they think they would all get well, but keeping back a part of the truth is what gives them bronchitis. Well, the old man--the dear old minister--used to try and show us how long we would be in hell if we should locate there. But to finish the other. The grand test was:
“Boys, if it was God’s will that you should go to hell, would you be willing to go?”
And every little liar said: “Yes, sir.” Then, in order to tell how long we would stay there, he used to say: “Suppose once in a billion ages a bird should come from a far-distant clime and carry off in its bill one little grain of sand, the time would finally come when the last grain of sand would be carried away. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir.” “Boys, by that time it would not sun-up in hell.” (Laughter.) Where did that doctrine of hell come from? I will tell you--from that fellow in the dug-out. Where did he get it? It was a souvenir from the wild beasts, from the glittering eye of the serpent, from the coiling, twisting snakes, with their fang-mouths; and it came from the bark, growl and howl of wild beasts; it was born of a laugh of the hyena and got from the depraved chatter of malicious apes. And I despise it with every drop of my blood and defy it. (Applause.) If there is any God in this universe who will damn his children for an expression of an honest though I wish to go to hell. (Applause.) I would rather go there than to go to heaven and keep the company of a God that would thus damn his children. (Applause.) Oh, is it not an infamous doctrine to teach to little children, to put a shadow in the heart of a child, to fill the insane asylums with that miserable, infamous lie? I see now and then a little girl--a dear little darling, with a face like the light, and eyes of joy, a human blossom, and I think: “Is it possible that that little girl will ever grow up to be a Presbyterian?” (Loud laughter.) Is it possible, my goodness, that that flower will finally believe in the five points of Calvinism or in the eternal damnation of man? Is it possible that that little fairy will finally believe that she could be happy in heaven with her baby in hell? Think of it! Think of it! And that is the Christian religion. (Applause.)

We cry out against the Indian mother that throws the child into the Ganges to be devoured by the alligator or crocodile, but that is joy in comparison with the Christian mother’s hope that she may be in salvation while her brave boy is in hell. (Applause.) I tell you, I want to kick the doctrine about hell--I want to kick it-- every time I go by it. (Laughter.) I want to get Americans in this country placed so they will be ashamed to preach it. I want to get the congregations so that they won’t listen to it. (Applause.) We cannot divide the world off into saints and sinners in that way. There is a little girl, as fair as a flower, and she grows up until she is 12, 13, or 14 years old. Are you going to damn her in the 15th, 16th or 17th, when the arrow of Cupid’s bow touches her heart and she is glorified--are you going to damn her now? She marries and loves, and holds in her arms a beautiful child. Are you going to damn her? Because she has listened to some Methodist minister, and after all that flood of light failed to believe? Are you going to damn her then? I tell you, God cannot afford to damn such a woman. (Applause.) A woman in the State of Indiana, forty or fifty years ago, who carded the wool and made rolls and spun them, and made the cloth and cut out the clothes for the children, and nursed them, and sat up with them nights, and gave them medicine, and held them in her arms and wept over them--cried for joy and wept for fear, and finally raised ten or eleven good men and women, with the ruddy glow of health upon their cheeks, and she would have died for any one of them any moment of her life, and finally she, bowed with age, and bent with care and labor, dies, and at the moment the magical touch of death is upon her face, she looks as if she never had a care, and her children burying her, cover her face with tears. (Applause.) Do you tell me God can afford to damn that kind of woman? (Applause.) If there is any God, sitting above him, in infinite serenity, we have the figure of justice. Even a God must do justice; and any form of superstition that destroys justice is infamous. (Applause.) Just think of teaching that doctrine to little children! A little child would go into the garden, and there would be a little tree laden with blossoms, and the little fellow would lean against it, and there would be a bird on one of the boughs, singing and swinging, and thinking about four little speckled eggs warmed by the breast of its mate--singing and swinging, and the music in happy waves rippling out of the tiny throat, and the flowers blossoming, the air filled with perfume, and the great white clouds floating in the sky, and the little boy would lean up against that tree and think about hell and the worm that never dies. Oh! the idea there can be any day too good for a child to be happy!

Well, after we got over the catechism (laughter), then came the sermon in the afternoon, and it was exactly like the one in the forenoon, except the other end to. (Laughter.) Then we started for home--a solemn march, “no a soldier discharged his farewell shot”--(laughter)--and when we got home, if we had been real good boys, we used to be taken up to the cemetery to cheer us up (laughter), and it always did cheer me (renewed laughter) those sunken graves, those leaning stones, those gloomy epitaphs covered with the moss of years always cheered me (laughter.) When I looked at them I said: “Well this kind of thing can’t last always.” (Laughter.) Then we came back home, and we had books to read which were very eloquent and amusing. We had “Josephus,” and the “History of the Waldenses,” and “Fox’s Book of Martyrs,” Baxter’s “Saints’ Rest,” and “Jenkyn on the Atonement.” I used to read Jenkyn with a good deal of pleasure (laughter), and I often thought that the atonement would have to be very broad in its provisions to cover the case of a man that would write such book for the boys. (Laughter.) Then I would look to see how the sun was getting on, and sometimes I thought it had stuck from pure cussedness. (Applause and laughter.) Then I would go back and try Jenkyn again. (Laughter.) Well, but it had to go down, and when the last rim of light sank below the horizon, off would go our hats, and we would give three cheers for liberty once again.

I tell you don’t make slaves of your children on Sunday. The idea that there is any God that hates to hear a child laugh! Let your children play games on Sunday. Here is a poor man that hasn’t money enough to go to a big church, and he has too much independence to go to a little church that the big church built for charity. He don’t want to slide into heaven that way. (Laughter.) I tell you don’t come to church, but go to the woods and take your family and a lunch with you, and sit down upon the old log and let the children gather flowers and hear the leaves whispering poems like the memories of long ago, and when the sun is about going down kissing the summits of far hills, go home, with your hearts filled with throbs of joy. There is more recreation and joy in that than going to a dry goods box with a steeple on top of it (laughter), and hearing a man tell you that your chances are about ninety-nine to one for being eternally damned. (Laughter and applause.) Let us make this Sunday a day of splendid pleasure, not to excess but to everything that make a man purer and grander and nobler. I would like to see now something like this: Instead of so many churches, a vast cathedral that would hold twenty or thirty thousands of people, and I would like to see an opera produced in it that would make the souls of men have higher, and grander and nobler aims. (Applause.) I would like to see the walls covered with pictures and the niches rich with statuary; I would like to see something put there that you could see in this world now, and I do not believe in sacrificing the present to the future; I do not believe in drinking skimmed milk here with the promise of butter beyond the clouds. (Laughter and applause.) Space or time cannot be holy any more than a vacuum can be pious. (Laughter.) Not a bit, not a bit; and no day can be so holy but what the laught of a child will make it holier still. (Applause.)

Strike with hands of fire, oh, weird musician, thy harp, strung with Apollo’s golden hair! Fill the vast cathedral aisles with symphonies sweet and dim, deft toucher of the organ’s keys; blow, bugler, blow, until thy silver notes do touch and kiss the moonlit waves, and charm the lovers wandering ‘mid the vine-clad hills. But know, your sweetest strains are discords all compared with childhood’s happy laugh--the laugh that fills the eyes with light and every heart with joy! O, ripping river of laughter, thou art the blessed boundary line between the beasts and men, and every wayward wave of thine doth drown some fretful fiend of care. O, Laughter, rose-lipped daughter of Joy, there are dimples enough in thy cheeks to catch and hold and glorify all the tears of grief. (Applause.)

Don’t plant your children in long, straight rows like posts. (Laughter.) Let them have light and air, and let them grow beautiful as palms. When I was a little boy, children went to bed when they were not sleepy and always got up when they were. (Laughter and applause.) I would like to see that changed; but they say we are too poor, some of us, to do it. Well, all right. It is easy to wake a child with a kiss as with a blow; with kindness as with a curse. And, another thing; let the children eat what they want to. Let them commence at whichever end of the dinner they desire. That is my doctrine. They know what they want much better than you do. Nature is a great deal smarter than you ever were. All the advance that has been made in the science of medicine has been made by the recklessness of patients. (Laughter and applause.) I can recollect when they wouldn’t give a man water in a fever--not a drop. Now and then some fellow would get so thirsty he would say: “Well, I’ll die anyway, so I’ll drink it”--(laughter)--and thereupon, he would drink a gallon of water, and thereupon he would burst into a generous perspiration and get well--(laughter)--and the next morning when the doctor would come to see him they would tell him about the man drinking the water and he would say: “How much?” “Well, he swallowed two pitchers full.” “Is he alive?” (Laughter.) “Yes.” So they would go into the room and the doctor would feel his pulse and ask him: “Did you drink two pitchers of water?” “Yes.” “My God! what a constitution you have got.” (Laughter and applause.)

I tell you there is something splendid in a man that will not always mind. Why, if we had done as kings told us five hundred years ago we would all have been slaves. If we had done as the priests told us we would all have been idiots. If we had done as the doctors told us we would have been dead. We have been saved by disobedience. We are saved by that splendid thing called independence, and I want to see more of it day after day, and I want to see children raised so they will have it. That is my doctrine. Give the children a chance. Be perfectly honor bright with them and they will be your friends when you are old. Don’t try to teach them something they can never learn. Don’t insist upon their pursuing some calling they have no sort of faculty for. Don’t make that poor girl play ten years on a piano when she has no ear for music., and when she has practiced until she can play “Bonaparte Crossing the Alps,” and you can’t tell after she has played it whether he ever got across or not. (Loud and prolonged laughter and applause.) Men are oaks; women are vines; children are flowers, and if there is any heaven in this world it is in the family. It is where the wife loves the husband and the husband loves the wife, and where the dimpled arms of children are about the necks of both. That is heaven, if there is any; and I do not want any better heaven in another world I cannot live with the ones I loved here, then I would rather not be there. I would rather resign. (Laughter and applause.)

Well, my friends, I have some excuses to make for the race to which I belong. In the first place, this world is not so very well adapted to raising good men and women. It is three time better adapted to the cultivation of fish than of people. There is one little, narrow belt running zigzag around the world in which men and women of genius can be raised, and that is all. It is with man as it is with vegetation. In the valley you find the oak and the elm tossing their branches defiantly to the storm, and as you advance up the mountain side the hemlock, the pine, the birch, the spruce, the fir, and finally you come to little dwarfed trees, that look like other trees seen through a telescope reversed, every limb twisted as though through pain--getting a scanty subsistence from the miserly crevices of the rocks. You go on and on, until at last the highest crag is freckled with a kind of moss, and vegetation ends. You might as well try to raise oaks and elms where the mosses grow as to raise great men and women where their surroundings are unfavorable. You must have the proper climate and soil.

There never has been a man or woman of genius from the southern hemisphere, because the Lord didn’t allow the right climate to fall upon the land. It falls upon the water. There never was much civilization except where there has been snow, and an ordinary decent winter. You can’t have civilization without it. Where man needs no bedclothes but clouds, revolution is the normal condition of such a people. It is the winter that gives us the home; it is the winter that gives us the fireside, and the family relation, and all the beautiful flowers of love that adorn that relation. Civilization, liberty, justice, charity and intellectual advancement are all flowers that bloom in the drifted snow. You can’t have them anywhere else, and that is the reason we of the north are civilized, and that is the reason that civilization has always been with winter. That is the reason that philosophy has been here, and, in spite of all our superstitions, we have advanced beyond some of the other races, because we have had this assistance of nature, that drove us into the family relation; that made us prudent; that made us lay up at one time for another season of the year. So there is one excuse for my race. I have got another. I think we came up from the lower animals. I am not dead sure of it, but I think so. When I first read about it, I didn’t like it. My heart was filled with sympathy for those people who leave nothing to be proud of except ancestors. I thought how terrible this will be upon the nobility of the old world. Think of their being forced to trace their ancestry back to the Duke Orang Outong or to the Princess Chimpanzee. After thinking it all over I came to the conclusion that I liked that doctrine. I became convinced in spite of myself. I read about rudimentary bones and muscles. I was told that everybody had rudimentary muscles extending from the ear into the cheek. I asked “What are they?” I was told: “They are the remains of muscles--that they become rudimentary from the lack of use.” They went into bankruptcy. They are the muscles with which our ancestors used to flap their ears. (Laughter.) Well, at first, I was greatly astonished, and afterward I was more astonished to find they had become rudimentary. How do you account for John Calvin unless we came up from the lower animals? How can you account for a man that would use the extremes of torture unless you admit that there is in man the elements of a snake, of a vulture, a hyena, and a jackal? How can you account for the religious creeds of today? How can you account for that infamous doctrine of hell except with an animal origin! How can you account for your conception of a God that would sell women and babes into slavery.

Well, I thought that thing over and I began to like it after a while, and I said: “It is not so much difference who my father was as who his son is.” And I finally said I would rather belong to a race that commenced with the skulless vertebrates in the dim Laurentian seas, that wriggled without knowing why they wriggled; swimming without knowing where they were going; that come along up by degrees through millions of ages; through all that crawls, and swims, and floats, and runs and growls, and barks, and howls, until it struck this fellow in the dug-out. And then that fellow in the dug-out getting a little grander, and each one below calling every one above him a heretic; calling every one who had made a little advance an infidel or an atheist, and finally the heads getting a little higher and coming up a little grander and more splendidly, and finally produced Shakespeare, who harvested all the fields of dramatic thought and from whose day until now there have been none but gleaners of chaff and straw. Shakespeare was an intellectual ocean whose waves touched all the shores of human thought, within which were all the tides and currents and pulses upon which lay all the lights and shadows, and over which brooded all the calms and swept all the storms and tempests of which the human soul is capable. I would rather belong to that race that commenced with that skulless vertebrate; that produced Shakespeare--a race that has before it an infinite future, with the angel of progress leaning from the far horizon, beckoning men forward and upward forever. I would rather belong to that race than to have descended from a perfect pair upon which the Lord has lost money every moment from that day to this.

Now, my crime has been this: I have insisted that the Bible is not the word of God. I have insisted that we should not whip our children. I have insisted that we should treat our wives as loving equals. I have denied that God--if there is any God--ever upheld polygamy and slavery. I have denied that God ever told his generals to kill innocent babes and tear and rip open the women with the sword of war. I have denied that, and for that I have been assailed by the clergy of the United States. They tell me I have misquoted; and I owe it to you, and maybe I owe it to myself, to read one or two words to you upon this subject. (Applause.) In order to do that I shall have to put on my glasses; and that brings me back to where I started--that man has advanced just in proportion as his thought has mingled with his labor. If man’s eyes hadn’t failed he would never have made spectacles, he would never have had the telescope, and he would never have been able to read the leaves of heaven.

Now they tell me--and there are several gentlemen who have spoken on this subject--the Rev. Mr. Collyer, a gentleman standing as high as anybody, and I have nothing to say against him, because I denounce a God who upheld murder, and slavery, and polygamy, he says what I said was slang. I would like to have it compared with any sermon that was ever issued from the lips of that gentleman. (Loud applause.) And before he gets through he admits that the Old Testament is a rotten tree that will soon fall into the earth and act as fertilizer for his doctrine. (Applause and laughter.) Is it honest for a man to assail my motive? Let him answer my argument! Is it honest and fair in him to say I am doing a certain thing because it is popular? Has it got to this, that, in this Christian country, where they have preached every day hundreds and thousands of sermons--has it got to this that infidelity is popular in the United States? (Applause.) If it has, I take courage. And I not only see the dawn of a brighter day, but the day is here. Think of it! A minister tells me in this year of grace, 1879, that a man is an infidel simply that he may be popular. I am glad of it. Simply that he may make money. Is it possible that we can make more money tearing up churches than in building them up? Is it possible that we can make more money denouncing the God of slavery than we can praising the God that took liberty from man. If so, I am glad. I call publicly upon Robert Collyer--a man for whom I have great respect--I call publicly upon Robert Collyer to state to the people of this city whether he believes the Old Testament was inspired. I call upon him to state whether he believes that God ever upheld these institutions; whether he believes that God was a polygamist; whether he believes that God commanded Moses or Joshua or anyone else to slay little children in the cradle. Do you believe that Robert Collyer would obey such an order? Do you believe that he would rush to the cradle and drive the knife of theological hatred to the tender heart of a dimpled child? And when I denounce a God that will give such a hellish order, he says that it is slang. I want him to answer; and when he answers he will say he does not believe the Bible is inspired. That is what he will say; and he holds these old worthies in the same contempt that I do. Suppose he should act like Abraham. Suppose he should send some woman out into the wilderness with his child in her arms to starve, would he think that mankind ought to hold his name up forever for reverence?

Robert Collyer says that we should read and scan every word of the Old Testament with reverence; that we should take this book up with reverential hands. I deny it. We should read it as we do every other book, and everything good in it keep it, and everything that shocks the brain and shocks the heart throw it away. Let us be honest. Professor Swing has made a few remarks on this subject, and I say the spirit he has exhibited has been as gentle and as sweet as the perfume of the flower. Professor Swing was too good a man to stay in the Presbyterian Church. He was a rose among thistles; he was a dove among vultures--and they hunted him out, and I am glad he came out. I tell all the churches to drive such men out, and when he comes I want him to state just what he thinks. I want him to tell the people of Chicago whether he believes the Bible is inspired in any sense except that in which Shakespeare was inspired. Honor bright, I tell you that all the sweet and beautiful things in the Bible would not make one play of Shakespeare; all the philosophy in the Bible would not make one scene in “Hamlet”; all the beauties of the Bible would not make one scene in “Midsummer Night’s Dream”; all the beautiful things about women in the Bible would not begin to create such a character as Perdita or Imogene or Miranda. Not one. I want him to tell whether he believes the Bible was inspired in any other way than Shakespeare was inspired. I want him to pick out something as beautiful and tender as Burns’ poem. “To Mary in heaven.” I want him to tell whether he believes the story about the bears eating up children; whether that is inspired. I want him to tell whether he considered that a poem or not. I want to know if the same God made those bears that devoured the children because they laughed at an old man out of hair. I want him to answer it, and answer it fairly. That is all I ask. I want just the fair thing. Now, sometimes Mr. Swing talks as though he believe the Bible, and then he talks to me as though he didn’t believe the Bible. The day he made this sermon I think he did, just a little, believe it. He is like the man that passed a ten-dollar counterfeit bill. He was arrested, and his father went to see him and said: “John, how could you commit such a crime? How could you bring my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave?” “Well,” he says, “father, I’ll tell you. I got this bill, and some days I thought it was bad, and some day I thought it was good--and one day when I thought was good I passed it.”

I want it distinctly understood that I have the greatest respect for Prof. Swing, but I want him to tell whether the 109th psalm is inspired. I want him to tell whether the passages I shall afterward read in this book are inspired. That is what I want. Then there is another gentleman here. His name is Herford. He says it is not fair to apply the test of truth to the Bible. I don’t think it is myself. He says that although Moses upheld slavery, that he improved it. They were not quite as bad as they were before; and he even justified slavery at that time. Do you believe that God ever turned the arms of children into chains of slavery? Do you believe that God ever said to a man: “You can’t have your wife unless you will be a slave! You cannot have your children unless you will lose your liberty, and unless you are willing to throw the from your heart forever you cannot be free.” I want Mr. Herford to just state whether he loves such a God. Be honor bright about it. Don’t begin to talk about civilization, or what the church has done or will do. Just walk right up to the rack and say whether you love and worship a God that established slavery. Honest! And love and worship a God that would allow a little babe to be torn from the breast of its mother and sold into slavery. Now, tell it fair, Mr. Hertford. I want you to tell the ladies in your congregation that you believe in a God that allowed women to be given to the soldiers. Tell them that, and then if you say it was not the God of Moses, then don’t praise Moses any more. Don’t do it. Answer these questions. Then there is another gentleman, Mr. Ryder, the Reverend Mr. Ryder’ and he says that Calvinism is rejected by a majority of Christendom. He is mistaken. There is what they call an Evangelical Alliance. They met in this country in 1876 or 1876, and there were present representatives of all the evangelical churches in the world, and they adopted a creed, and that creed is that man is totally depraved. That creed is that there is an eternal, universal hell, and that every man that does not believe in a certain way is bound to be damned forever, and that there is only one way to be saved, and that is by faith, and by faith alone; and they would not allow any one to be represented there that did not believe that, and they would not allow a Unitarian there, and would not have allowed Dr. Ryder there, because he takes away from the Christian world the consolation naturally arising from the belief in hell. Dr. Ryder is mistaken. All the orthodox religion of the day is Calvinism. It believes in the fall of man. It believes in the atonement. It believes in the eternity of hell, and it believes in the salvation by faith; that is to say. by credulity.

Thank is what they believe, and he is mistaken; and I want to tell Dr. Ryder to-day, if there is a God and he wrote the Old Testament, there is a hell. The God that wrote the Old Testament will have a hell. And I want to tell Dr. Ryder another thing, that the Bible teaches an eternity of punishment. I want to tell him that the Bible upholds the doctrine of hell. I want to tell him that if there is no hell, somebody ought to have said so, and Jesus Christ himself should not have said “I will at the last day say: ‘Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels.’” And if you, Dr. Ryder, are depending for salvation on the God that wrote the Old Testament you will inevitably be eternally damned. Then there is another gentleman, and he a rabbi a Rabbi, Bien or Bean, or whatever his name is-- and he comes to the defense of the great law-giver. I will not answer him, and I will tell you why. He has taken himself outside of all the limits of a gentleman; he has taken it upon himself. Isn’t it strange. They are like in language the beastliest I ever read, and any man who say that the American women are not just as good women as any God can make, and pick his mud to-day--is an unappreciative barbarian. I want to remind him that in this country the Jews were first admitted to the privileges of citizens; that in this country they were first given all their rights, and I am as much in favor of them having their rights as I am in favor of having my own. But when a rabbi so far forgets himself as a traduce the women and men of this country, I pronounce him a vulgar falsifier, and let him alone. (Applause, cries of “Good! Good!”)

Strange, that nearly every man that thought himself called on to defend the Bible was one who did not believe in it himself. Isn’t it strange? They are like some suspected people, always anxious to show their marriage certificate. They want, at least, to convince the world that they are not as bad as I am.

Now, I want to read you just one or two things, and then I am going to let you go. I want to see if I have said such awful things and whether I have got any Scriptures to stand by me. I will only read two or three verses. Does the Bible teach man to enslave his brother? If it does, it is not the word of God, unless God is a slaveholder. (He here read from Scripture.) Upon the limbs of unborn babes this fiendish God put the chains of slavery. I hate him. (Applause.)

Here is the story of Jephthah. He went off and he asked the Lord to let him whip some people, and he told the Lord if he would let him whip them he would sacrifice to the Lord the first thing that met him on his return; and the first thing that met him was his own beautiful daughter, and he sacrificed her. Is there a sadder story in all the history of the world than that? What do you think of a man that would sacrifice his own daughter? What do you think of a God that would received that sacrifice? Now, then, they come to women in this blessed Gospel, and let us see what the Gospel says about women. Then you ought all go to church, girls, next Sunday and hear it. “Let the women all learn in silence with all subjection; suffer not women to think nor usurp authority over man, for Adam was formed first, not Eve.” Don’t you see? “Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression. Notwithstanding all this she shall be saved in childbearing if she continue in faith and charity and holiness with sobriety.” That is Mr. Timothy.

I despise this wretched doctrine. Wherever the sword of rebellion is drawn in favor of right I am a rebel. I suppose Alexander, Czar of Russia, was put there by the order of God, was he? I am sorry he was not removed by the Nihilist who shot at him the other day. I tell you in a country like that, where there are hundreds of girls not yet 16 years of age prisoners in Siberia simply for giving their ideas about liberty, and we telegraphed to that country congratulating that wretch that he wasn’t killed! My heart goes into the prison, my heart goes with the poor girl working as a miner in the mines, crawling on her hands and knees getting the precious ore out of the mines, and my sympathies go with her, and my sympathies cluster around the point of the dagger.

I said that the Bible upheld tyranny. Let me read you a little. “Let every soul be subject to the higher powers--the powers that be are ordained by God.” George the Third was king by grace of God, and when our fathers rose in rebellion, according to this doctrine, they rose against the power of God; and if they did they were successful. And so it goes on telling of all the cities that were destroyed, and of all the great-hearted men that they dashed their brains out, and all the little babes and all the sweet women that they killed and plundered--all in the name of a most merciful God. Well, think of it! The Old Testament is filled with anathemas, and with curses, and with words of revenge, and jealousy, and hatred and meanness and brutality. Have I read enough to show that what I said is so? I think I have. I wish I had time to read to you further of what the dear old fathers of the church said about women. (Cries of “Go on; go on.”) Colonel Ingersoll then read several passages illustrative of his subject and proceeded: I tell you women are more prudent than men, are more truthful than men, are more faithful than men -- ten times as faithful as man.

And these men thought women not fit to be held as pure in the sight of God as man. I never saw a man that pretended that he didn’t love a woman; that pretended that he loved God better than he did a woman, that he didn’t look hateful to me, hateful and unclean. I am a believer in absolute equality. I am a believer in absolute liberty between man and wife. I believe in liberty, and I say “Oh, Liberty, float not forever in the far horizon; remain not forever in the dream of the enthusiast, the philanthropist and poet, but come and make thy home among the children of men!”