The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll Volume IV Part 4

Haeckel began at the simplest cell, went from change to change--from form to form--followed the line of development, the path of life, until he reached the human race. It was all natural. There had been no interference from without.

I read the works of these great men--of many others--and became convinced that they were right, and that all the theologians--all the believers in "special creation" were absolutely wrong.

The Garden of Eden faded away, Adam and Eve fell back to dust, the snake crawled into the gra.s.s, and Jehovah became a miserable myth.

IX.

I TOOK another step. What is matter--substance? Can it be destroyed--annihilated? Is it possible to conceive of the destruction of the smallest atom of substance? It can be ground to powder--changed from a solid to a liquid--from a liquid to a gas--but it all remains. Nothing is lost--nothing destroyed.

Let an infinite G.o.d, if there be one, attack a grain of sand--attack it with infinite power. It cannot be destroyed. It cannot surrender. It defies all force. Substance cannot be destroyed.

Then I took another step.

If matter cannot be destroyed, cannot be annihilated, it could not have been created.

The indestructible must be uncreateable.

And then I asked myself: What is force?

We cannot conceive of the creation of force, or of its destruction.

Force may be changed from one form to another--from motion to heat--but it cannot be destroyed--annihilated.

If force cannot be destroyed it could not have been created. It is eternal.

Another thing--matter cannot exist apart from force. Force cannot exist apart from matter. Matter could not have existed before force. Force could not have existed before matter. Matter and force can only be conceived of together. This has been shown by several scientists, but most clearly, most forcibly by Buchner.

Thought is a form of force, consequently it could not have caused or created matter. Intelligence is a form of force and could not have existed without or apart from matter. Without substance there could have been no mind, no will, no force in any form, and there could have been no substance without force.

Matter and force were not created. They have existed from eternity. They cannot be destroyed.

There was, there is, no creator. Then came the question: Is there a G.o.d? Is there a being of infinite intelligence, power and goodness, who governs the world?

There can be goodness without much intelligence--but it seems to me that perfect intelligence and perfect goodness must go together.

In nature I see, or seem to see, good and evil--intelligence and ignorance--goodness and cruelty--care and carelessness--economy and waste. I see means that do not accomplish the ends--designs that seem to fail.

To me it seems infinitely cruel for life to feed on life--to create animals that devour others.

The teeth and beaks, the claws and fangs, that tear and rend, fill me with horror. What can be more frightful than a world at-war? Every leaf a battle-field--every flower a Golgotha--in every drop of water pursuit, capture and death. Under every piece of bark, life lying in wait for life. On every blade of gra.s.s, something that kills,--something that suffers. Everywhere the strong living on the weak--the superior on the inferior. Everywhere the weak, the insignificant, living on the strong--the inferior on the superior--the highest food for the lowest--man sacrificed for the sake of microbes. Murder universal.

Everywhere pain, disease and death--death that does not wait for bent forms and gray hairs, but clutches babes and happy youths. Death that takes the mother from her helpless, dimpled child--death that fills the world with grief and tears.

How can the orthodox Christian explain these things?

I know that life is good. I remember the suns.h.i.+ne and rain. Then I think of the earthquake and flood. I do not forget health and harvest, home and love--but what of pestilence and famine? I cannot harmonize all these contradictions--these blessings and agonies--with the existence of an infinitely good, wise and powerful G.o.d.

The theologian says that what we call evil is for our benefit--that we are placed in this world of sin and sorrow to develop character. If this is true I ask why the infant dies? Millions and millions draw a few breaths and fade away in the arms of their mothers. They are not allowed to develop character.

The theologian says that serpents were given fangs to protect themselves from their enemies. Why did the G.o.d who made them, make enemies? Why is it that many species of serpents have no fangs?

The theologian says that G.o.d armored the hippopotamus, covered his body, except the under part, with scales and plates, that other animals could not pierce with tooth or tusk. But the same G.o.d made the rhinoceros and supplied him with a horn on his nose, with which he disembowels the hippopotamus.

The same G.o.d made the eagle, the vulture, the hawk, and their helpless prey.

On every hand there seems to be design to defeat design.

If G.o.d created man--if he is the father of us all, why did he make the criminals, the insane, the deformed and idiotic?

Should the inferior man thank G.o.d? Should the mother, who clasps to her breast an idiot child, thank G.o.d? Should the slave thank G.o.d?

The theologian says that G.o.d governs the wind, the rain, the lightning.

How then can we account for the cyclone, the flood, the drought, the glittering bolt that kills?

Suppose we had a man in this country who could control the wind, the rain and lightning, and suppose we elected him to govern these things, and suppose that he allowed whole States to dry and wither, and at the same time wasted the rain in the sea. Suppose that he allowed the winds to destroy cities and to crush to shapelessness thousands of men and women, and allowed the lightnings to strike the life out of mothers and babes. What would we say? What would we think of such a savage?

And yet, according to the theologians, this is exactly the course pursued by G.o.d.

What do we think of a man, who will not, when he has the power, protect his friends? Yet the Christian's G.o.d allowed his enemies to torture and burn his friends, his wors.h.i.+pers.

Who has ingenuity enough to explain this?

What good man, having the power to prevent it, would allow the innocent to be imprisoned, chained in dungeons, and sigh against the dripping walls their weary lives away?

If G.o.d governs the world, why is innocence not a perfect s.h.i.+eld? Why does injustice triumph?

Who can answer these questions?

In answer, the intelligent, honest man must say: I do not know.

X.

THIS G.o.d must be, if he exists, a person--a conscious being. Who can imagine an infinite personality? This G.o.d must have force, and we cannot conceive of force apart from matter. This G.o.d must be material. He must have the means by which he changes force to what we call thought. When he thinks he uses force, force that must be replaced. Yet we are told that he is infinitely wise. If he is, he does not think. Thought is a ladder--a process by which we reach a conclusion. He who knows all conclusions cannot think. He cannot hope or fear. When knowledge is perfect there can be no pa.s.sion, no emotion. If G.o.d is infinite he does not want. He has all. He who does not want does not act. The infinite must dwell in eternal calm.

It is as impossible to conceive of such a being as to imagine a square triangle, or to think of a circle without a diameter.

Yet we are told that it is our duty to love this G.o.d. Can we love the unknown, the inconceivable? Can it be our duty to love anybody? It is our duty to act justly, honestly, but it cannot be our duty to love. We cannot be under obligation to admire a painting--to be charmed with a poem--or thrilled with music. Admiration cannot be controlled. Taste and love are not the servants of the will. Love is, and must be free. It rises from the heart like perfume from a flower.

For thousands of ages men and women have been trying to love the G.o.ds--trying to soften their hearts--trying to get their aid.

I see them all. The panorama pa.s.ses before me. I see them with outstretched hands--with reverently closed eyes--wors.h.i.+ping the sun. I see them bowing, in their fear and need, to meteoric stones--imploring serpents, beasts and sacred trees--praying to idols wrought of wood and stone. I see them building altars to the unseen powers, staining them with blood of child and beast. I see the countless priests and hear their solemn chants. I see the dying victims, the smoking altars, the swinging censers, and the rising clouds. I see the half-G.o.d men--the mournful Christs, in many lands. I see the common things of life change to miracles as they speed from mouth to mouth. I see the insane prophets reading the secret book of fate by signs and dreams. I see them all--the a.s.syrians chanting the praises of a.s.shur and Ishtar--the Hindus wors.h.i.+ping Brahma, Vishnu and Draupadi, the whitearmed--the Chaldeans sacrificing to Bel and Hea--the Egyptians bowing to Ptah and Ra, Osiris and Isis--the Medes placating the storm, wors.h.i.+ping the fire--the Babylonians supplicating Bel and Morodach--I see them all by the Euphrates, the Tigris, the Ganges and the Nile. I see the Greeks building temples for Zeus, Neptune and Venus. I see the Romans kneeling to a hundred G.o.ds. I see others spurning idols and pouring out their hopes and fears to a vague image in the mind. I see the mult.i.tudes, with open mouths, receive as truths the myths and fables of the vanished years. I see them give their toil, their wealth to robe the priests, to build the vaulted roofs, the s.p.a.cious aisles, the glittering domes. I see them clad in rags, huddled in dens and huts, devouring crusts and sc.r.a.ps, that they may give the more to ghosts and G.o.ds. I see them make their cruel creeds and fill the world with hatred, war, and death. I see them with their faces in the dust in the dark days of plague and sudden death, when cheeks are wan and lips are white for lack of bread. I hear their prayers, their sighs, their sobs. I see them kiss the unconscious lips as their hot tears fall on the pallid faces of the dead. I see the nations as they fade and fail. I see them captured and enslaved. I see their altars mingle with the common earth, their temples crumble slowly back to dust. I see their G.o.ds grow old and weak, infirm and faint.

I see them fall from vague and misty thrones, helpless and dead. The wors.h.i.+pers receive no help. Injustice triumphs. Toilers are paid with the lash,--babes are sold,--the innocent stand on scaffolds, and the heroic perish in flames. I see the earthquakes devour, the volcanoes overwhelm, the cyclones wreck, the floods destroy, and the lightnings kill.

The nations perished. The G.o.ds died. The toil and wealth were lost. The temples were built in vain, and all the prayers died unanswered in the heedless air.

Then I asked myself the question: Is there a supernatural power--an arbitrary mind--an enthroned G.o.d--a supreme will that sways the tides and currents of the world--to which all causes bow?

I do not deny. I do not know--but I do not believe. I believe that the natural is supreme--that from the infinite chain no link can be lost or broken--that there is no supernatural power that can answer prayer--no power that wors.h.i.+p can persuade or change--no power that cares for man.