The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll Volume IV Part 34

Children thus taught--thus corrupted and deformed--become the enemies of investigation--of progress. They are no longer true to themselves.

They have lost the veracity of the soul. In the language of Prof.

Clifford, "they are the enemies of the human race."

So I say to all fathers and mothers, keep your children away from priests; away from orthodox Sunday schools; away from the slaves of superst.i.tion.

They will teach them to believe in the Devil; in h.e.l.l; in the prison of G.o.d; in the eternal dungeon, where the souls of men are to suffer forever. These frightful things are a part of Christianity. Take these lies from the creed and the whole scheme falls into shapeless ruin. This dogma of h.e.l.l is the infinite of savagery--the dream of insane revenge.

It makes G.o.d a wild beast--an infinite hyena. It makes Christ as merciless as the fangs of a viper. Save poor children from the pollution of this horror. Protect them from this infinite lie.

IX. CONCLUSION.

I admit that there are many good and beautiful pa.s.sages in the Old and New Testament; that from the lips of Christ dropped many pearls of kindness--of love. Every verse that is true and tender I treasure in my heart. Every thought, behind which is the tear of pity, I appreciate and love. But I cannot accept it all. Many utterances attributed to Christ shock my brain and heart. They are absurd and cruel.

Take from the New Testament the infinite savagery, the sh.o.r.eless malevolence of eternal pain, the absurdity of salvation by faith, the ignorant belief in the existence of devils, the immorality and cruelty of the atonement, the doctrine of non-resistance that denies to virtue the right of self-defence, and how glorious it would be to know that the remainder is true! Compared with this knowledge, how everything else in nature would shrink and shrivel! What ecstasy it would be to know that G.o.d exists; that he is our father and that he loves and cares for the children of men! To know that all the paths that human beings travel, turn and wind as they may, lead to the gates of stainless peace! How the heart would thrill and throb to know that Christ was the conqueror of Death; that at his grave the all-devouring monster was baffled and beaten forever; that from that moment the tomb became the door that opens on eternal life! To know this would change all sorrow into gladness. Poverty, failure, disaster, defeat, power, place and wealth would become meaningless sounds. To take your babe upon your knee and say: "Mine and mine forever!" What joy! To clasp the woman you love in your arms and to know that she is yours and forever--yours though suns darken and constellations vanis.h.!.+ This is enough: To know that the loved and dead are not lost; that they still live and love and wait for you.

To know that Christ dispelled the darkness of death and filled the grave with eternal light. To know this would be all that the heart could bear.

Beyond this joy cannot go. Beyond this there is no place for hope.

How beautiful, how enchanting, Death would be! How we would long to see his fleshless skull! What rays of glory would stream from his sightless sockets, and how the heart would long for the touch of his stilling hand! The shroud would become a robe of glory, the funeral procession a harvest home, and the grave would mark the end of sorrow, the beginning of eternal joy.

And yet it were better far that all this should be false than that all of the New Testament should be true.

It is far better to have no heaven than to have heaven and h.e.l.l; better to have no G.o.d than G.o.d and Devil; better to rest iii eternal sleep than to be an angel and know that the ones you love are suffering eternal pain; better to live a free and loving life--a life that ends forever at the grave--than to be an immortal slave.

The master cannot be great enough to make slavery sweet. I have no ambition to become a winged servant, a winged slave. Better eternal sleep. But they say, "If you give up these superst.i.tions, what have you left?"

Let me now give you the declaration of a creed.

DECLARATION OF THE FREE

We have no falsehoods to defend-- We want the facts; Our force, our thought, we do not spend In vain attacks.

And we will never meanly try To save some fair and pleasing lie.

The simple truth is what we ask, Not the ideal; We've set ourselves the n.o.ble task To find the real.

If all there is is naught but dross, We want to know and bear our loss.

We will not willingly be fooled, By fables nursed; Our hearts, by earnest thought, are schooled To bear the worst; And we can stand erect and dare All things, all facts that really are.

We have no G.o.d to serve or fear, No h.e.l.l to shun, No devil with malicious leer.

When life is done An endless sleep may close our eyes, A sleep with neither dreams nor sighs.

We have no master on the land-- No king in air-- Without a manacle we stand, Without a prayer, Without a fear of coming night, We seek the truth, we love the light.

We do not bow before a guess, A vague unknown; A senseless force we do not bless In solemn tone.

When evil comes we do not curse, Or thank because it is no worse.

When cyclones rend--when lightning blights, 'Tis naught but fate; There is no G.o.d of wrath who smites In heartless hate.

Behind the things that injure man There is no purpose, thought, or plan.

We waste no time in useless dread, In trembling fear; The present lives, the past is dead, And we are here, All welcome guests at life's great feast-- We need no help from ghost or priest.

Our life is joyous, jocund, free-- Not one a slave Who bends in fear the trembling knee, And seeks to save A coward soul from future pain; Not one will cringe or crawl for gain.

The jeweled cup of love we drain, And friends.h.i.+p's wine Now swiftly flows in every vein With warmth divine.

And so we love and hope and dream That in death's sky there is a gleam.

We walk according to our light, Pursue the path That leads to honor's stainless height, Careless of wrath Or curse of G.o.d, or priestly spite, Longing to know and do the right.

We love our fellow-man, our kind, Wife, child, and friend.

To phantoms we are deaf and blind, But we extend The helping hand to the distressed; By lifting others we are blessed.

Love's sacred flame within the heart And friends.h.i.+p's glow; While all the miracles of art Their wealth bestow Upon the thrilled and joyous brain, And present raptures banish pain.

We love no phantoms of the skies, But living flesh, With pa.s.sion's soft and soulful eyes, Lips warm and fresh, And cheeks with health's red flag unfurled, The breathing angels of this world.

The hands that help are better far Than lips that pray.

Love is the ever gleaming star That leads the way, That s.h.i.+nes, not on vague worlds of bliss, But on a paradise in this.

We do not pray, or weep, or wail; We have no dread, No fear to pa.s.s beyond the veil That hides the dead.

And yet we question, dream, and guess, But knowledge we do not possess.

We ask, yet nothing seems to know; We cry in vain.

There is no "master of the show"

Who will explain, Or from the future tear the mask; And yet we dream, and still we ask

Is there beyond the silent night An endless day?

Is death a door that leads to light?

We cannot say.

The tongueless secret locked in fate We do not know.--

We hope and wait.

PROGRESS.

* This is the first lecture ever delivered by Mr. Ingersoll.

The stars indicate the words missing in the ma.n.u.script. It was delivered in Pekin, 111., in 1860, and again in Bloomington, 111., in 1804.

IT is admitted by all that happiness is the only good, happiness in its highest and grandest sense and the most * * springs * * of * * refined *

* generous * *

Conscience * * tends * * indirectly * * truly we * * physically * * to develop the wonderful powers of the mind is progress.

It is impossible for men to become educated and refined without leisure and there can be no leisure without wealth and all wealth is produced by labor, nothing else. Nothing can * * the hands * * and * * fabrics *

* service of civil * * and crumbles * * of all, and yet even in free America labor is not honored as it deserves.