Ladies and Gentlemen: In my judgment slavery is the child of
ignorance. Liberty is born of intelligence. Only a few years ago there
was a great awakening in the human mind. Men began to inquire, By what
right does a crowned robber make me work for him? The man who asked
this question was called a traitor. Others said, by what right does a
robed priest rob me? That man was called an infidel. And whenever he
asked a question of that kind, the clergy protested. When they found
that the earth was round, the clergy protested; when they found that
the stars were not made out of the scraps that were left over on the
sixth day of creation, but were really great, shining, wheeling worlds,
the clergy protested and said: "When is this spirit of investigation
to stop?" They said then, and they say now, that it is dangerous for
the mind of man to be free. I deny it. Out on the intellectual sea
there is room for every sail. In the intellectual air, there is space
enough for every wing. And the man who does not do his own thinking is
a slave, and does not do his duty to his fellow men. For one, I expect
to do my own thinking. And I will take my own oath this minute that I
will express what thoughts I have, honestly and sincerely. I am the
slave of no man and of no organization. I stand under the blue sky and
the stars, under the infinite flag of nature, the peer of every human
being. Standing as I do in the presence of the Unknown, I have the
same right to guess as though I had been through five theological
seminary. I have as much interest in the great absorbing questions of
origin and destiny as though I had D.D., L. L. D. at the end of my name.
All I claim, all I plead is simple liberty of thought. That is all. I
do not pretend to tell what is true and all the truth. I do not claim
that I have floated level with the heights of thought, or that I have
descended to the depths of things; I simply claim that what idea I have
I have a right to express, and any man that denies it to me is an
intellectual thief and robber. That is all. I say, take those chains
off from the human soul; I say, break these orthodox fetters, and if
there are wings to the spirit let them be spread. That is all I say.
And I ask you if I have not the same right to think that any other
human has? If I have no right to think, why have I such a thing as a
thinker. Why have I a brain? And if I have no right to think, who has?
If I have lost my right, Mr. Smith, where did you find yours? If I
have no right, have three or four men or 300 or 400, who get together
and sign a card and build a house and put a steeple on it with a bell
in it--have they any more right to think than they had before? That is
the question. And I am sick of the whip and lash in the region of mind
and intellect. And I say to these men, "Let us alone. Do your own
thinking; express your own thoughts." And I want to say tonight that I
claim no right that I am not willing to give to every other human being
beneath the stars--none whatever. And I will fight tonight for the
right of those who disagree with me to express their thoughts just as
soon as I will fight for my own right to express mine.
In the good old times, our fathers had an idea that they could make
people believe to suit them. Our ancestors in the ages that are gone
really believed that by force you could convince a man. You cannot
change the conclusion of the brain by force, but I will tell you what
you can do by force, and what you have done by force. You can make
hypocrites by the million. You can make a man say that he has changed
his mind, but he remains of the same opinion still. Put fetters all
over him; crush his feet in iron boots; lash him to the stock; burn him
if you please, but his ashes are of the same opinion still. I say our
fathers, in the good old times--and the best thing I can say about them
is, they are dead--they had an idea they could force men to think their
way, and do you know that idea is still prevalent even in this country?
Do you know they think they can make a man think their way if they say,
"We will not trade with that man; we won't vote for that man; we won't
hire him, if he is a lawyer; we will die before we take his medicine,
if he is a doctor, we won't invite him; we will socially ostracize him;
he must come to our church; he must think our way or he is not a
gentleman." There is much of that even in this blessed country--not
excepting the city of Albany itself.
Now in the old times of which I have spoken, they said, "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, into 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 today 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 iron arguments our
fathers used to use. I saw here the thumb-screw--two little innocent
looking pieces of iron, armed on the inner surface with protuberances
to prevent their slipping--and when some man 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 pieces of iron
upon his thumb, 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. I would have said,
"Now you just stop that; I will admit anything on earth that you want.
I will admit there is one god or a million, one hell or a billion; suit
yourselves, but stop that." 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
tonight. 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
fetish; and I tonight 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; but 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 throat, the
sufferer could not sit down, he could not walk, he could not stir
without being punctured by those needles, and in a little while the
throat would begin to swell, and finally suffocation would end the
agonies of that man, when may be 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 men." Think of it! And I saw there at the same time
another instrument, called "the scavenger's daughter," which resembles
a pair of shears, with handles where handles ought to be, but at the
points as well. And just above the pivot that fastens the blades, a
circle of iron through which the hands would be placed, into the lower
circles the feet, and into the center circle the head would be pushed,
and in that position he would be thrown prone upon the earth, and kept
there until the strain upon the muscles produced such agony that
insanity and death would end his pain. And that was done in the name
of "Whosoever smiteth thee upon one cheek, turn him the other also."
Think of it!
And I saw also the rack, with the windlass and chains, upon which the
sufferer was laid. About his ankles were fastened chains, and about
his wrists also, and then priests began turning this windlass, and they
kept turning until the ankles, the shoulders and the wrists were all
dislocated, and the sufferer was wet with the sweat of agony. And they
had standing by a physician to feel his pulse. What for? To save his
life? Yes. What for? In mercy? No. Simply that they might preserve
his life, that they might rack him once again. And this was
done--recollect it--it was done in the name of civilization, it was
done in the name of law and order, it was done in the name of morality,
it was done in the name of religion, it was done in the name of God.
Sometimes when I get to reading about it, and when I get to thinking
about it, it seems to me that I have suffered all these horrors myself,
as though I had stood upon the shore of exile and gazed with a
tear-filled eye toward home and native land; as though my nails had
been torn from my hands, and into my throat the sharp needles had been
thrust; as though my feet had been crushed in iron boots; as though I
had been chained in the cells of the Inquisition, and had watched and
waited in the interminable darkness to hear the words of release; as
though I had been taken from my fireside, from my wife and children,
and taken to the public square, chained, and fagots had been piled
around me; as though the flames had played around my limbs, and
scorched the sight from my eyes; as though my ashes had been scattered
to the four winds by the hands of hatred; as though I had stood upon
the scaffold and felt the glittering ax fall upon me. And while I feel
and see all this, I swear that while I live I will do what little I can
to augment the liberty of man, woman and child.
My friends, it is all a question of sense; it is all a question of
honesty. If there is a man in this house who is not willing to give to
everybody else what he claims for himself he is just so much nearer to
the barbarian than I am. It is a simple question of honesty; and the
man who is not willing to give to every other human being the same
intellectual rights he claims himself is a rascal, and you know it. It
is a simple question, I say, of intellectual development and of
honesty. And I want to say it now, so you will see it. You show me the
narrow, contracted man; you show me the man who claims everything for
himself and leaves nothing for others, and that man has got a distorted
and deformed brain. That is the matter with him. He has no sense; not
a bit. Let me show you.
A little while ago I saw models of everything man has made for his use
and for his convenience. I saw all the models of all the watercraft,
from the dug-out, in which floated a naked savage--one of our
ancestors--a naked savage, with teeth two inches long, with a spoonful
of brains in the back of his head; I saw the watercraft 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 through 3,000 miles of billows,
with a compass like a conscience, that does not miss throb or beat of
its mighty iron heart from one shore to the other. I saw at the same
time the weapons that man has made, from a rude club, such as was
grasped by that savage when he crawled from his den, from his hole in
the ground, and hunted a snake for his dinner--from that club to the
boomerang, to the sword, to the cross-bow, to the blunderbuss, to the
flint-lock, to the cap-lock, to the needle-gun, up to the cannon cast
by Krupp, capable of hurling a ball of 2,000 pounds through eighteen
inches of solid steel. I saw, too, the armor from the turtle-shell
that our ancestor lashed upon his skin when he went out to fight for
his country, to the skin of the porcupine, with the quills all
bristling, which he pulled over his orthodox head to defend himself
from his enemies--I mean, of course, the orthodox head of that day--up
to the shirts of mail that were worn in the middle ages, capable of
resisting the edge of the sword and the point of the spear; up to the
iron-clad, to the monitor completely clad in steel, capable only a few
years ago of defying the navies of the globe.
I saw at the same time the musical instruments, from the tomtom, which
is a hoop with a couple of strings of rawhide drawn across it--from
that tomtom up to the instruments we have today, which make the common
air blossom with melody. I saw, too, the paintings, from the daub of
yellow mud up to the pieces which adorn the galleries of the world.
And the sculpture, from the rude gods, with six legs and a half dozen
arms, and the rows of ears, up to the sculpture of now, wherein the
marble is clad with such loveliness that it seems almost a sacrilege to
touch it; and in addition I saw there ideas of books--books written
upon skins of wild beasts, books written upon shoulder-blades of sheep;
books written upon leaves, upon bark, up to the splendid volumes that
adorn the libraries of our time. When I think of libraries, I think of
the remark of Plato, "The house that has a library in it has a soul."
I saw there all these things, and also the implements of agriculture,
from a crooked stick up to the plow which makes it possible for a man
to cultivate the soil without being an ignoramus. I saw at the same
time a row of skulls, from the lowest skull that has ever been found;
skulls from the central portion of Africa, skulls from the bushmen of
Australia, up to the best skulls of the last generation.
And I notice that there was the same difference between those skulls
that there is between the products of those skulls. And I said to
myself: "It is all a question of intellectual development. It is a
question of brain and sinew." I noticed that there was the same
difference between those skulls that there was between that dug-out,
and that man-of-war and that steamship. That skull was low. It had
not a forehead a quarter of an inch high. But shortly after, the
skulls became doming and crowning, and getting higher and grander.
That skull was a den in which crawled the base and meaner instincts of
mankind, and this skull was a temple in which dwelt joy, liberty and
love. So said I: "This is all a question of brain, and anything that
tends to develop, intellectually, mankind, is the gospel we want."
Now I want to be honest with you. Honor bright! Nothing like it in
the world! No matter what I believe. Now, let us be honest. Suppose a
king, if there was a king at the time this gentleman floated in the
dugout and charmed his ears with the music of the tomtom; suppose the
king at that time, if there was one, and the priest, if there was one,
had said: "That dug-out is the best boat that ever can be built. The
pattern of that came from on high, and any man who says he can improve
it, by putting a log or a stick in the bottom of it, with a rag on the
end, is an infidel." Honor bright, what, in your judgment, would have
been the effect upon the circumnavigation of the globe? That is the
question. Suppose the king, if there was one, and the priest, if there
was one--and I presume there was, because it was a very ignorant
age--suppose they had said: "That tomtom is the most miraculous
instrument of music that any man can conceive of; that is the kind of
music they have in heaven. An angel, sitting upon the golden edge of a
fleecy cloud, playing upon that tomtom became so enraptured, so
entranced with her own music, that she dropped it, and that is how we
got it--and any man that says that it can be improved by putting a back
and front to it, and four strings and a bridge on it, and getting some
horsehair and resin, is no better than one of the weak and
unregenerate."
I ask you what effect would that have had upon music? I ask you, honor
bright, if that course had been pursued, would the human ears ever have
been enriched with the divine symphonies of Beethoven? That is the
question. And suppose the king, if there was one, and the priest had
said: "That crooked stick is the best plow we can ever have invented.
The pattern of that plow was given to a pious farmer in a 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, we will twist him." Honor
bright, what, in your judgment, would have been the effect upon the
agricultural world?
Now, you see, the people said, "We want better weapons with which to
kill our enemies;" so the people said, "we want better plows;" the
people said, "we want better music;" the people said, "we want better
paintings;" and they said, "whoever will give us better plows, and
better arms, and better paintings, and better music, we will give him
honor; we will crown him with glory; we will robe him in the garments
of wealth;" and every incentive has been held out to every human being
to improve something in every direction. And that is the reason the
club is a cannon; that the reason the dugout is a steamship; that the
reason the daub is a painting, and that is the reason that that piece
of stone has finally become a glorified statue.
Now, then, this fellow in the dug-out had a religion. That fellow was
orthodox. He had no doubt; he was settled in his mind. He did not
wish to be insulted. He wanted the bark of his soul to lie at the
wharf of orthodoxy, and rot in the sun. He wanted to hear the sails of
old opinions flap against the mast of old creeds. He wanted to see the
joints in the sides open and gape, as though thirsty for water, and he
said: "Now don't disturb my opinions; you'll get my mind unsettled; I
have got it all made up, and I don't want to hear any infidelity,
either." As far as I am concerned, I want to be out on the high sea; I
Want to take my chance with wind and wave and star; and I had rather go
down in the glory and grandeur of the storm than to rot at any orthodox
wharf. Of course I mean by orthodoxy all that don't agree with my
doxy. Do you understand?
Now this man had a religion. That fellow believed in hell. Yes, sir;
and he thought he would be happier in heaven if he could just lean over
and see certain people that he disliked, broiled. That fellow has had a
great many intellectual descendents. It is an unhappy fact in nature
that the ignorant multiply much faster than the intellectual. This
fellow believed in the devil, and his devil had a cloven hoof. (Many
people think I have the same kind of footing.) He had a long tail,
armed with a fiery dart, and he breathed brimstone. And do you know
there has not been a patentable improvement made on that devil for
4,000 years? That fellow believed that God was a tyrant. That fellow
believed that the earth was flat. That fellow believed, as I told you,
in a literal burning, seething lake of fire and brimstone. That is
what he believed in. That fellow, too, had his idea of politics, and
his idea was, "Might makes right." And it will take thousands of years
before the world will believingly say, "Right makes might." Now all I
ask is the same privilege of improving on that gentleman's theology as
upon his musical instrument; the same right to improve upon his
politics as upon his dug-out. That is all. I ask for the human soul
the same liberty in every direction. And that is all. That is the
only crime that I have committed. That is all. I say, let us have a
chance. Let us think, and let each one express his thoughts. Let us
become investigators, not followers; not cringers and crawlers. If
there is in heaven an infinite being, he never will be satisfied with
the worship of cowards and hypocrites. Honest unbelief will be a
perfume in heaven when hypocrisy, no matter however religious it may be
outwardly, will be a stench. That is my doctrine. That is all there
is to it; give every other human being all the chance you claim for
yourself. To keep your mind open to the voices of nature, to new
ideas, to new thoughts, and to improve upon your doctrine whenever you
can; that is my doctrine.
Do you know we are improving all the time? Do you know that the most
orthodox people in this town today, three hundred years ago would have
been burned for heresy? Do you know some ministers who denounce me
would have been in the Inquisition themselves two hundred years ago?
Do you know where once burned and blazed the bivouac fires of the army
of progress, the altars of the church glow today? Do you know that the
church today occupies about the same ground that unbelievers did one
hundred years ago? Do you know that while they have followed this army
of progress, protesting and denouncing, they have had to keep within
protesting and denouncing distance, but they have followed it? They
have been the men, let me say, in the valley; the men in swamps,
shouting to and cursing the pioneers on the hills; the men upon whose
forehead was the light of the coming dawn, the coming day--but they
have advanced. In spite of themselves, they have advanced! If they had
not, I would not speak here to night. If they had not, not a solitary
one of you could have expressed your real and honest thought. But we
are advancing, and we are beginning to hold all kinds of slavery in
utter contempt; do you know that? And we are beginning to question
wealth and power; we are questioning all creeds and all dogmas; and we
are not bowing down, as we used to, to a man simply because he is in
the robe of a clergyman, and we are not bowing down to a man now simply
because he is a king. No! We are not bowing down simply because he is
rich. We used to worship the golden calves, but we do not now. The
worst you can say of an American, is, he worships the gold of the calf,
not the calf; and even the calves are beginning to see this distinction.
It no longer fills the ambition of a man to be emperor or king. The
last Napoleon was not satisfied with being 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 within his head, so he wrote
the life of Julius Caesar, that he might become a member of the French
Academy. Compare, for instance, in the German Empire, King William and
Bismarck. King William is the one anointed of the most high, as they
claim--the one upon whose head has been poured the divine petroleum of
authority. Compare him with Bismarck, who towers, an intellectual
Colossus, above this man. Go into England and compare George Eliot
with Queen Victoria--Queen Victoria, clothed in the garments given to
her by blind fortune and by chance. George Elliot, robed in garments
of glory, woven in the loom of her own genius. Which does the world
pay respect to? I tell you we are advancing! The pulpit does not do
all the thinking; the pews do it; nearly all of it. The world is
advancing, and we question the authority of those men who simply say
"it is so." Down upon your knees and admit it! When I think of how
much this world has suffered, I am amazed. When I think of how long
our fathers were slaves, I am amazed. Why, just think of it! This
world has only been fit for a gentleman to live in fifty years. No, it
has not. It was not until the year 1808 that Great Britain abolished
the slave trade. Up to that time her judge, sitting upon the bench in
the name of justice; her priests, occupying the pulpit in the name of
universal love, owned stock in slave ships and luxuriated in the
profits of piracy and murder. It was not until the year 1808 that the
United States abolished the slave trade between this and other
countries, but preserved it as between the States. It was not until
the 28th day of August, 1833, that Great Britain abolished human
slavery in her colonies; and it was not until the 1st day of January,
1863, that Abraham Lincoln wiped from our flag the stigma of disgrace.
Abraham Lincoln--in my judgment, the grandest man ever president of the
United States, and upon whose monument these words could truthfully be
written: "Here lies the only man in the history of the world who,
having been clothed with almost absolute power, never abused it except
on the side of mercy."
Think, I say, how long we clung to the institution of human slavery;
how long lashes upon the naked back were the legal tender for labor
performed! Think of it! when the pulpit of this country deliberately
and willfully changed the Cross of Christ into the whipping-post.
Think of it! And tell me then if I am right when I say this world has
only been fit for a gentleman to live in fifty years. I hate with
every drop of my blood every form of tyranny. I hate every form of
slavery. I hate dictation--I want something like liberty; and what do
I mean by that? The right to do anything that does not interfere with
the happiness of another, physically. Liberty of thought includes the
right to think right and the right to think wrong. Why? Because that
is the means by which we arrive at truth; for if we knew the truth
before, we needn't think. Those men who mistake their ignorance for
facts, never do think. You may say to me, "How far is it across this
room?" I say 100 feet. Suppose it is 105; have I committed any crime?
I made the best guess I could. You ask me about any thing; I examine it
honestly, and when I get through, what should I tell you--what I think
or what you think? What should I do?
There is a book put in my hands. They say "That is the Koran; that was
written by inspiration; read it." I read it. Chapter VII, entitled
"The Cow," chapter IX, entitled "The Bee," and so on. I read it. When
I get through with it, suppose I think in my heart and in my brain, "I
don't believe a word of it;" and you ask me, "What do you think of
it?" Now, admitting that I live in Turkey, and have a chance to get an
office, what should I say? Now, honor bright, should I just make a
clean breast of it and say "Upon my honor, I don't believe it?" Then
is it right for you to say "That fellow will steal--that fellow is a
dangerous man--he is a robber?" Now, suppose I read the book called
the bible (and I read it, honor bright), and when I get through with it
I make up my mind that book was written by men; and along comes the
preacher of my church, and he says "Did you read that book?" "I did."
"Do you think it is divinely inspired?" I say to myself, "Now if I say
it is not, they will never send me to Congress from this district on
earth." Now, honor bright, what ought I to do? Ought I to say, "I
have read it. I have been honest about it; don't believe it?" Now,
ought I to say that, if that is a real transcript of my mind, or ought
I to commence hemming and hawing and pretend that I do believe it, and
go away with the respect of that man, hating myself for a cringing
coward? Now which? For my part I would rather a man would tell me what
he honestly thinks, and he will preserve his manhood. I had rather be
a manly unbeliever than an unmanly believer. I think I will stand
higher at the judgment day, if there is one, and stand with as good a
chance to get my case dismissed without costs as a man who sneaks
through life pretending he believes what he does not. I tell you one
thing; there is going to be one free fellow in this world. I am going
to say my say, I tell you. I am going to do it kindly, I am going to
do it distinctly, but I am going to do it.
Now, if men have been slaves, what about women? Women have been the
slaves of slaves; and that's a pretty hard position to occupy for life.
They have been the slaves of slaves; and in my judgment it took
millions of ages for women to come from the condition of abject slavery
up to the institution of marriage. Let me say right here, tonight, I
regard marriage as the holiest institution among men. Without the
fireside there is no human advancement; without the family relation,
there is no life worth living. Every good government is made up of
good families. The unit of government is family, and anything that
tends to destroy the family is perfectly devilish and infamous. I
believe in marriage, and I hold in utter contempt the opinions of
long-haired men and short-haired women who denounce the institution of
marriage. Let me say right here--and I have thought a good deal about
it--let me say right here, the grandest ambition that any man can
possibly have is to so live and so improve himself in heart and brain
as to be worthy of the love of some splendid woman; and the grandest
ambition of any girl is to make herself worthy of the love and
adoration of some magnificent man. That is my idea, and there is no
success in life without it. If you are the grand emperor of the world,
you had better be the grand emperor of one loving and tender heart, and
she the grand empress of yours. The man who has really won the love of
one good woman in this world, I do not care if he dies in the ditch a
beggar, his life has been a success.
I say it took millions of years to come from the condition of abject
slavery up to the condition of marriage. Ladies, the ornaments you
bear upon your person tonight are but the souvenirs of your mothers'
bondage. The chains around your necks and the bracelets clasped upon
your wrists by the thrilling hand of love, have been changed by the
wand of civilization from iron to shining, glittering gold. But nearly
every religion has accounted for the devilment in this world by the
crime of woman. What a gallant thing that is! And if it is true, I had
rather live with the woman I love in a world full of trouble, than to
live in heaven with nobody but men.
I say that nearly every religion has accounted for all the trouble in
this world by the crime of woman. I read in a book--and I will say now
that I cannot give the exact language; my memory does not retain the
words--but I can give the substance. I read in a book that the supreme
being concluded to make a world and one man; that he took some nothing
and made a world and one man, and put this man in a garden: but he
noticed that he got lonesome; he wandered around as if he was waiting
for a train; there was nothing to interest him; no news; no papers; no
politics; no policy; and as the devil had not yet made his appearance,
there was no chance for reconciliation; not even for civil service
reform. Well, he would wander about this garden in this condition
until finally the supreme being made up his mind to make him a
companion; and having used up all the nothing he originally took in
making the world and one man, he had to take a part of the man to start
a woman with, and so he caused a deep sleep to fall upon this man--now,
understand me. I didn't say this story is true. After the sleep fell
upon this man, he took a rib, or, as the French would call it, a cutlet
out of this man, and from that he made a woman; and considering the raw
material, I look upon it as the most successful job ever performed.
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 an extra force was put on to keep them from getting back.
Then devilment commenced. The mumps, and the measles, and the whooping
cough and the scarlet fever started in their race for man, and they
began to have the toothache, the roses began to have thorns, and snakes
began to have poisoned teeth, and people began to divide about religion
and politics; and the world has been full of trouble from that day to
this. Now, nearly all of the religions of this world account for the
existence of evil by such a story as that.
I read in another book what appeared to be an account of the same
transaction. It was written about 4,000 years before the other; but
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; but I would advise you all not to allow your
creed to be disturbed by a little matter of four or five thousand
years. In this other story the Supreme Brahma made up his mind to make
the world and man and woman; and he made the world, and he made the man
and he made the woman, and he put them on the island of Ceylon; and
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 them every tree was a thousand aeolian harps. The Supreme
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 nightingales singing and the
stars shining and the flowers blooming, and they fell in love. Imagine
the courtship! No prospective fathers or mothers in law; no prying and
gossiping neighbors, nobody to say, "Young man, how do you expect to
support her?" Nothing of that kind. They were married by the 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 Amend,
and the woman's name was Heva--and the man said to Heva: "I believe
I'll look about a little;" and he went to the northern extremity of
the island, where there was a little, narrow neck of land connecting it
with the mainland; and the devil, who is always playing pranks with us,
got up a mirage, and when he looked over to the mainland, such hills
and dells, vales and dales; such mountains, crowned with silver; such
cataracts, clad in robes of beauty, 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 lived,
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, discovered that this narrow neck of land had fallen
into the sea, with the exception of now and then a rock, and the mirage
had disappeared and there was naught but rocks and sand; and then a
voice called out, cursing them. Then it was that the man spoke up--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 man to start a
world with. The Supreme Brahma said, "I will save her but not thee."
She spoke up out of her feelings of love, out of a heart in which there
was love enough to make all of 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 first-rate ever since I read it--"I will spare you both
and watch over you."
Honor bright, isn't that the better story?
And from that same book I want to show you what ideas some of these
miserable heathen had--the heathen we are trying to convert. We send
missionaries over yonder to convert heathen there, and we send soldiers
out on the plains to kill heathen there. If we can convert the
heathen, why not convert those nearest home? Why not convert those we
can get at? Why not convert those who have the immense advantage of
the example of the average pioneer? But to show you the men we are
trying to convert--in this book it says: "Man is strength, woman is
beauty; man is courage, woman is love. When the one man loves the one
woman and the one woman loves the one man, the very angels leave heaven
and come and sit in that house and sing for joy." They are the men we
are converting. Think of it! I tell you when I read these things I
begin to say, "Love is not of any country; nobility does not belong
exclusively here;" and through all the ages there have been a few
great and tender souls lifted far above their fellows.
Now, my friends, it seems to me that the woman is the equal of the man.
She has all the rights I have, and one more, and that is the right to
be protected. That's my doctrine. You are married; try and make the
woman you love happy; try and make the man you love happy. Whoever
marries simply for himself will make a mistake; but whoever loves a
woman so well that he says "I will make her happy," makes no mistake;
and so with the woman who says "I will make him happy." There is only
one way to be happy, and that is to make somebody else so, and you
can't be happy cross-lots; you have got to go the regular turnpike road.
If there is any man I detest, it is the man who thinks he is the head
of the family--the man who thinks he is "boss". That fellow in the
dug-out used that word "boss;" that was one of his favorite
expressions--that he was "boss". Imagine a young man and a young woman
courting, walking out in the moonlight, and the nightingale singing a
song of pain and love, as though the thorn touched her heart--imagine
them stopping there in the moonlight and starlight and song, and saying
"Now here, let's settle who's boss!" I tell you it is an infamous
word, and an infamous feeling--a man who is "boss," who is going to
govern his family, and when he speaks let all the rest of them be
still--some mighty idea is about to be launched from his mouth. Do you
know I dislike this man unspeakably; and a cross man I hate above all
things.
What right has he to murder the sunshine of the day? What right has he
to assassinate the joy of life? Where you go home you ought to feel
the light there is in the house; if it is in the night it will burst
out of doors and windows and illuminate the darkness. It is just as
well to go home a ray of sunshine as an old sour, cross curmudgeon, who
thinks he is the head of the family. Wise 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 8 cents, or 6, and want to sell it for 7.
Think of the intellectual strain that must have been upon a man, and
when he gets home everybody else in the house must look out for his
comfort. A woman who has only taken care of five or six children, and
one or two of them may be sick; has been nursing them and singing to
them, and taking care of 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 great gentleman--the head of the family I don't like him a
bit!
Do you know another thing? I despise a stingy man. I don't see how it
is possible for a man to die worth fifty millions of dollars, or ten
millions of dollars, in a city full of want, when he meets almost every
day the withered hand of beggary and the white lips of famine. How a
man can withstand all that, and hold in the clutch of his greed twenty
or thirty millions of dollars, is past my comprehension. I do not see
how he can do it. I should not think he could do it any more than he
could keep a pile of lumber where hundreds and thousands of men were
drowning in the sea. I should not think he could do it.
Do you know I have known men who would trust their wives with their
hearts and their honor, but not with their pocketbook; not with a
dollar. When I see a man of that kind I always think he knows which of
these articles is the most valuable. Think of making your wife a
beggar! Think of her having to ask you every day for a dollar, or for
two dollars, or for fifty cents! "What did you do with that dollar I
gave you last week?" Think of having a wife that was afraid of you!
What kind of children do you expect to have with a beggar and a coward
for their mother? Oh, I tell you, if you have but a dollar in the
world, and you have got to spend it, spend it like a king; spend it as
though it were a dry leaf and you the owner of unbounded forests!
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's got to go, let it go.
Get the best you can for your family--try to look as well as you can
yourself. When you used to go courting, how nice you looked! Ah, your
eye was bright, your step was light, and you just put on the very best
look you could. Do you know that it is insufferable egotism in you to
suppose that a woman is going to love you always looking as bad as you
can? Think of it! Any woman on earth will be true to you forever when
you do your level best. Some people tell me, "Your doctrine about
loving, and wives, and all that is splendid for the rich, but it won't
do for the poor." I tell you tonight there is on the average more love
in the homes of the poor than in the palaces of the rich; and the
meanest but with love in it is fit for the gods, and a palace without
love is a den only fit for wild beasts. That's my doctrine!
You can't be so poor but that you can help somebody. Good nature is
the cheapest commodity in the world; and love is the only thing that
will pay 10 percent to borrower and lender both. Don't tell me that you
have got to be rich! We have all a false standard of greatness in the
United States. We think here that a man to be great, must be
notorious; must be extremely wealthy, or his name must be between the
lips of rumor. It is all nonsense! It is not necessary to be rich to
be great, or to be powerful to be happy; and the happy man is the
successful man. Happiness is the legal tender of the soul. Joy is
wealth.
A little while ago I stood by the grave of the old Napoleon, a
magnificent tomb, fit for a dead deity almost, and gazed into the great
circle at the bottom of it. In the sarcophagus, of black Egyptian
marble, at last rest the ashes of that restless man. I looked over the
balustrade, and I thought about the career of Napoleon. I could see
him walking upon the banks of the Seine contemplating suicide. I saw
him at Toulon. I saw him putting down the mob in the streets of Paris.
I saw him at the head of the army of Italy. I saw him crossing the
bridge at Lodi. I saw him in Egypt, fighting the battle of the
pyramids. I saw him cross the Alps, and mingle the eagles of France
with the eagles of the crags. I saw him at Austerlitz. I saw him with
his army scattered and dispersed before the blast. I saw him at
Leipsic when his army was defeated and he was taken captive. I saw him
escape. I saw him land again upon French soil, and retake an empire by
the force of his own genius. I saw him captured once more, and again
at St. Helena, with his arms behind him, gazing out upon the sad and
solemn sea; and I thought of the orphans and Widows he had made.
I thought of the tears that had been shed for his glory. I thought of
the only woman who ever loved him, who had been pushed from his heart
by the cold hand of ambition; and as I looked at the sarcophagus, I
said, "I would rather have been a French peasant and worn wooden shoes;
I would rather have lived in a hut, with a vine growing over the door,
and the grapes growing and ripening in the autumn sun; I would rather
have been that peasant, with my wife by my side and my children upon my
knees, twining their arms of affection about me; I would rather have
been that poor French peasant, and gone down at last to the eternal
promiscuity of the dust, followed by those who loved me; I would a
thousand times rather have been that French peasant than that imperial
personative of force and murder." And so I would, ten thousand times.
It is not necessary to be great to be happy; it is not necessary to be
rich to be just and generous, and to have a heart filled with divine
affection. No matter whether you are rich or poor, use your wife as
though she were a splendid creation, and she will fill your life with
perfume and joy. And do you know, it is a splendid thing for me to
think that the woman you really love will never grow old to you?
Through the wrinkles of time, through the music of years, if you really
love her, you will always see the face you loved and won. And a woman
who really loves a man, does not see that he grows older; he is not
decrepit; he does not tremble; he is not old; she always sees the same
gallant gentleman who won her hand and heart. I like to think of it in
that way. I like to think of all passions; love is eternal, and, as
Shakespeare says, "Although Time, with his sickle, can rob ruby lips
and sparkling eyes, let him reach as far as he can, he cannot quite
touch love; that reaches even to the end of the tomb." And to love in
that way, and then go down the hill of life together, and as you go
down hear, perhaps, the laughter of grandchildren--the birds of joy and
love sing once more in the leafless branches of age. I believe in the
fireside. I believe in the democracy of home. I believe in the
republicanism of the family. I believe in liberty and equality with
those we love.
If women have been slaves, what shall I say of children; of the little
children in the alleys and sub-cellars; the little children who turn
pale when they hear their father's footsteps; little children who run
away when they only hear their names called by the lips of another;
little children--the children of poverty, the children of crime, the
children of brutality wherever you are--flotsam and jetsam upon the
wild, mad sea of life, my heart goes out to you, one and all. I tell
you the children have the same rights that we have, and we ought to
treat them as though they were human beings; and they should be reared
by love, by kindness, by tenderness, and not by brutality. That is my
idea of children. When your little child tells a lie, don't rush at
him as though the world were about to go into bankruptcy. Be honest
with him. A tyrant father will have liars for children; do you know
that? A lie is born of tyranny upon the one hand and weakness upon the
other, and when you rush at a poor little boy with a club in your hand,
of course he lies. I thank Mother Nature that she has put ingenuity
enough in the breast of a child, when attacked by a brutal parent, to
throw up a little breastwork in the shape of a lie. When one of your
children tells a lie, be honest with him; tell him you have told
hundreds of them yourself. Tell him it is not the best way; you have
tried it. Tell him, as the man did in Maine when his boy left home:
"John, honesty is the best policy; I have tried both." Just be honest
with him. Imagine now; you are about to whip a child five years of
age. What is the child to do? Suppose a man, as much larger than you
are larger than a child five years old, should come at you with
liberty-pole in hand, and in a voice of thunder shout, "Who broke the
plate?" There is not a solitary one of you who wouldn't swear you
never saw it, or that it was cracked when you found it. Why not be
honest with these children? Just imagine a man who deals in stocks
putting false rumors afloat!
Think of a lawyer beating his own flesh and blood for evading the
truth, when he makes half of his own living that way! Think of a
minister punishing his child for not telling all he thinks! Just think
of it! When your child commits a wrong, take it in your arms; let it
feel your heart beat against its heart; let the child know that you
really and truly and sincerely love it. Yet some Christians, good
Christians, when a child commits a fault, drive it from the door, and
say, "Never do you darken this house again." Think of that! And then
these same people will get down on their knees and ask God to take care
of the child they have driven from home. I will never ask God to take
care of my children unless I am doing my level best in that same
direction. But I will tell you what I say to my children: "Go where
you will; commit what crime you may; fall to what depth of degradation
you may; you can never commit any crime that will shut my door, my
arms, my heart to you; as long as I live you shall have no more sincere
friend."
Do you know, I have seen some people who acted as though they thought
when the Savior said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, for such
is the Kingdom of Heaven," that he had a rawhide under his mantle and
made that remark to get the children within striking distance. I don't
believe in the government of the lash. If any one of you ever expect
to whip your children again after you hear me, I want you to have a
photograph taken of yourself when you are in the act, with your face
red with vulgar anger; and then the face of the little child, with eyes
swimming in tears, and the little chin dimpled with fear, like a piece
of water struck by a sudden, cold wind. Have the picture taken. If
that little child should die, I cannot find a sweeter way to spend an
autumn afternoon than to go out to the cemetery, when the maples are
clad in bright colors, and little scarlet runners are coming, like
poems of regret, from the sad heart of the earth--than to go out to the
cemetery and sit down upon the grave and look at this photograph, and
think of the flesh, now dust, that you beat.
I tell you it is wrong; it is no way to raise children! Make your home
happy. Be honest with them, divide fairly with them in everything.
Give them a little liberty, and you cannot drive them out of the house.
They will want to stay there. Make home pleasant. Let them play any
game they want to. Don't be so foolish as to say: "You may roll balls
on the ground, but you must not roll them on green cloth. You may
knock them with a mallet, but you must not push them with a cue. You
may play with little pieces of paper which have 'Authors' written on
them, but you must not have 'keerds.'" Think of it! "You may go to a
minstrel show, where people blacken themselves up and degrade
themselves, and imitate humanity below themselves, but you must not go
to the theater and see the characters of immortal genius put upon the
stage." Why? Well, I can't think of any reason in the world except
"minstrel" is a word of two syllables and theater has three. Let
children have some daylight at home if you want to keep them there, and
don't commence at the cradle and yell, "Don't!" "Don't!" "Stop!"
That is nearly all that is said to a young one from the cradle until he
is twenty one years old, and when he comes of age other people begin
saying "Don't!" And the church says "Don't!" And the party that he
belongs to says "Don't!" I despise that way of going through this
world. Let us have a little liberty--just a little bit. There is
another thing. In old times, you know, they thought some days were too
good for a child to enjoy himself in. When I was a boy Sunday was
considered altogether too good to be happy in; and Sunday used to
commence then when the sun went down Saturday night. That was to get
good ready--a kind of running jump; and when the sun went down, a
darkness ten thousand times deeper than that of night fell on that
house. Nobody said a word then; nobody laughed; and the child that
looked the sickest was regarded the most pious. You couldn't crack
hickory nuts; you couldn't chew gum; and if you laughed, it was only
another evidence of the total depravity of man. That was a solemn
night; and the next morning everybody looked sad, mournful,
dyspeptic--and thousands of people think they have religion when they
have only got dyspepsia--thousands! But there is nothing in this world
that would break up the old orthodox churches as quick as some specific
for dyspepsia--some sure cure.
Then we went to church, and the minister was up in a pulpit about
twenty feet high, with a little sounding-board over him, and he
commenced with Firstly and went on to about twenty-thirdly, and then
around by way of application, and then divided it off again once or
twice, and after having put in about two hours, he got to Revelations.
We were not allowed to have any fire, even if it was in the winter. It
was thought to be outrageous to be comfortable while you are thanking
the Lord, and the first church that ever had a stove put in it in New
England was broken up on that account. Then we went a-nooning, and
then came the catechism, the chief end of man. We went through that;
and then this same sermon was preached, commencing at the other end,
and going back. After that was over we started for home, solemn and
sad--"not a soldier discharged his farewell shot;" not a word was
said--and when we got home, if we had been good boys, they would take
us up to the graveyard to cheer us up a little.
It did cheer me! When I looked at those tombs the comforting
reflection came to my mind that this kind of thing couldn't last
always. Then we had some certain books that we read just by way of
cheerfulness. There was Milner's "History of the Wilderness," Baxter's
"Call to the Unconverted," and Jenkins' "On the Atonement." I used to
read Jenkins' "On the Atonement;" and I have often thought the
atonement would have to be very broad in its provisions to cover the
case of a man who would write a book like that for a boy to read.
Well, you know, the Sunday had to go at last; and the moment the sun
went down Sunday night we were free. About 4 or 5 o'clock we would go
to see how the sun was coming out. Sometimes it seemed to me that it
was just stopping from pure cussedness; but finally it had to go down,
and when the last rim of light sank below the horizon, out would come
our traps, and we would give three cheers for liberty once more. In
those times it was thought wrong for a child to laugh on Sunday. Think
of that! A little child--a little boy--could go out in the garden, and
there would be a tree laden with blossoms, and this little fellow would
lean up against the tree, and there would be a bird singing and
swinging, and thinking about four little speckled eggs, warmed by the
breast of its mate--singing and swinging, and the music coming rippling
out of its throat, and the flowers blossoming and the air full of
perfume, and the great white clouds floating in the sky; and that
little boy would lean up against that trunk, and think of hell.
That's true! I have heard them preach when I sat in the pew, and my
feet didn't come within eighteen inches of the floor, about that hell.
And they said, "Suppose that once in a million years a bird would come
from some far distant planet, and carry in its bill a grain of sand,
the time would finally come when the last atom composing this earth
would be carried away;" and the old preacher said, in order to impress
upon the boys the length of time they would have to stay, "it wouldn't
be sun-up in hell yet."
Think of that to preach to children! I tell you, my friends, no day
can be so sacred but that the laugh of a little child will make it
holier still--no day! And yet, at that time, the minds of children
were polluted by this infamous doctrine of eternal punishment; and I
denounce it today as an infamous doctrine beyond the power of language
to express. Where did that doctrine of eternal punishment for the
children of men come from? It came from that wretch in the dug-out.
Where did he get it? It was a souvenir from the animals, and the
doctrine of eternal punishment was born in the eyes of snakes when they
hung in fearful coils watching for their prey. It was a doctrine born
of the howling and barking and growling of wild beasts; it was born in
the grin of the hyenas, and of the depraved chatter of the baboons; and
I despise it with every drop of my blood. Tell me there is a God in
the serene heaven that will damn his children for the expression of an
honest belief!
There have been more men who died in their sins, according to your
orthodox religion, than there are leaves on all the forests of this
world ten thousand times over. Tell me they are in hell! Tell me they
are to be punished for ever and ever! I denounce it as an infamous lie!
And when the great ship containing the hope and aspiration of the
world, when the great ship freighted with mankind goes down in the
night of death and disaster, I will go down with the ship. I don't
want to paddle off in any orthodox canoe. I will go down with the
ship; and if there is a God who will damn his children forever I had
rather go to hell than to go to heaven and keep the society of such an
infamous Deity. I make my choice now. I despise that doctrine, and
I'll tell you why. It has covered the cheeks of this world with tears.
It has polluted the heart of children. It has been a pain and terror
to every man that ever believed it. It has filled the good with horror
and fear, but it has had no effect upon the infamous and base. I tell
you it is a bad doctrine. I read in the papers today what Henry Ward
Beecher, whom I regard as the most intellectual preacher in the pulpit
of the United States--I will read from the paper what he said
yesterday, and you will see an abstract of it in the New York Times of
today. He has had the courage, and he has had the magnificent manhood,
to say:
"I say to you, and I swear to you, by the wounds in the hands of
Christ--I swear to you by the wounds in the body and feet of Christ,
that this doctrine of eternal hell is a most infamous nightmare of
theology! It never should be preached again."
What right have you, sir; you, minister, as you are, to stand at the
portal of eternity, or the portal of the tomb, and fill the future with
horror and with fear? You have no right to do it. I don't believe it,
and neither do you. You would not sleep one night. Any man who
believes it, who has got a decent heart in his bosom, will go insane.
Yes, sir, a man that really believes that doctrine and does not go
insane, has got the conscience of a snake and the intellect of a hyena.
O! I thank my stars that you do not believe it. You cannot believe it,
and you never will believe it. Old Jonathan Edwards, the dear old
soul, he is in heaven I suppose, said: "Can the believing husband in
heaven be happy with his unbelieving wife in hell? Can the believing
father in heaven be happy with his unbelieving children in hell? Can
the loving wife in heaven be happy with her unbelieving husband in
hell? I tell you yea. Such will be their sense of justice that it
will increase rather than diminish their happiness."
Think of these infamous doctrines that have been taught in the name of
religion! Do not stuff these things into the minds of your children.
Give them a chance. Let them read. Let them think. Do not treat your
children like posts, to be set in the orthodox road, but like trees,
that need light and sun and air. Be honest with them. Be fair with
them. In old times they used to make all children go to bed when they
were not sleepy, and all of them got up when they were sleepy. I say
let them go to bed--when they are sleepy and get up when they are not.
But they say that will do for the rich, but not for the poor. Well, if
the poor have to wake their children early in the morning, it is as
easy to wake them with a kiss as with a club. I believe in letting
children commence at which end of the dinner they want to.
Let them eat what they want. It is their business. They know what
they want to eat. And if they have had their liberty from the first,
they can beat any doctor in the world. All the improvement that has
ever been made in medicine has been made by the recklessness of
patients. Yes, sir. Thousands and thousands of years the doctors
wouldn't let a man have water in fever. Every now and then some fellow
got reckless and said: "I will die, I am so thirsty," and drank two or
three quarts of water and got well. And they kept that up until
finally the doctors said, "that is the best thing for a fever you can
do."
I have more confidence to agree with nature about these things than any
of the conclusions of the schools. Just let your children have
freedom, and they will fall right into your ways and do just as you do.
But you try to make them, and there is some magnificent, splendid thing
in the human heart that will not be driven. And do you know it is the
luckiest thing for this world that ever happened that people are so.
What would we have been if the people in any age of the world had done
just as the doctors told them? They would have been all dead. What
would we have done if, at any age of the world, we had followed
implicitly the direction of the church? We would have been all idiots,
every one.
It is a splendid thing that there is always some fellow who won't mind,
and will think for himself. And I believe in letting children think
for themselves. I believe in having a family like a democracy. If
there is anything splendid in this world it is a home of that kind.
They used to tell us, "Let your victuals close your mouth." We used to
eat as though it was a religious performance. I like to see the
children about, and every one telling what he has seen and heard. I
like to hear the clatter of the knives and spoons mingling with the
laughter of their voices. I had rather hear it than any opera that has
ever been put upon the boards. Let them have liberty; let them have
freedom, and I tell you your children will love you to death.
Now, I have some excuses to offer for the race to which I belong. I
have two. My first excuse is that this is not a very good world to
raise folks in anyway. It is not very well adapted to raising
magnificent people. There's only a quarter of it land to start with.
It is three times better fitted for raising fish than folks, and in
that one quarter of land there is not a tenth part fit to raise people
on. You can't raise people without a good climate. You have got to
have the right kind of climate, and you have got to have certain
elements in the soil, or you can't raise good people. Do you know that
there is only a little zig-zag strip around the world within which have
been produced all men of genius?
The southern hemisphere has never produced a man of genius, never; and
never will until civilization, fighting the heat that way and the cold
this, widens this portion of the earth until it is capable of producing
great men and great women. It is the same with men that it is with
vegetation; you go into a garden, and find there flowers growing. And
as you go up the mountain, the birch and the hemlock and the spruce are
to be found. And as you go toward the top, you find little, stunted
trees getting a miserable subsistence out of the crevices of the rocks,
and you go on up and up and up, until finally you find at the top
little moss-like freckles. You might as well try to raise flowers
where those freckles grow as to raise great men and women where you
haven't got the soil.
I don't believe man ever came to any high station without woman. There
has got to be some restraint, something to make you prudent, something
to make you industrious. And in a country where you don't need any bed
quilt but a cloud, revolution is the normal condition of the people.
You have got to have the fireside; you have got to have the home, and
there by the fireside will grow and bloom the fruits of the human race.
I recollect a while ago I was in Washington when they were trying to
annex Santo Domingo. They said: "We want to take in Santo Domingo."
Said I: "We don't want it." "Why," said they, "it is the best
climate the earth can produce. There is everything you want." "Yes,"
said I, "but it won't produce men. We don't want it. We have got soil
enough now. Take 5,000 ministers from New England, 5,000 presidents of
colleges, and 5,000 solid business men, and their families, and take
them to Santo Domingo; and then you will see the effect of climate. The
second generation, you will see barefooted boys riding bareback on a
mule, with their hair sticking out of the top of their sombreros, with
a rooster under each arm, going to a cock-fight on Sunday."
You have got to have the soil; you have got to have the climate, and
you have got to have another thing--you have got to have the fireside.
That is one excuse I have for us.
The next excuse is that I think we came up from the lower animals.
Else how can you account for all this snake and hyena and jackal in
man? Now, when I first heard that doctrine, I didn't like it. I felt
sorry for people who had nothing but ancestors to be proud of. It
touched my heart to think that they would have to go back to the Duke
Orangutan or the Duchess Chimpanzee. I was sorry, and I hated to
believe it. I don't know that it is the truth now. I am not satisfied
upon that question; I stand about eight to seven. I thought it over.
I read about it. I read about these rudimentary bones and muscles. I
didn't like that. I read that everybody had rudimentary muscles coming
from the ear right down here (indicating); that the most intellectual
people in the world have got them. I say, "What are they?"
"Rudimentary muscles." "What kind of muscles?" "Muscles that your
ancestors used to have fully developed." "What for?" "To flap their
ears with."
Well, whether we ever had them or not, I know of lots of men who ought
to have them yet. And finally I said, "Well, I guess we came up from
the lower animals." I thought it all over; the best I could, and I
said, "I guess we did." And after a while I began to like it, and I
like it better now than I did before.
Do you know that I would rather belong to a race that started with
skull-less vertebrae in the dim Laurentian seas, wiggling without
knowing why they wiggled, swimming without knowing where they were
going; but kept developing and getting a little further up and a little
further up, all through the animal world, and finally striking this
chap in the dug-out. A getting a little bigger, and this fellow
calling that fellow a heretic, and that fellow calling the other an
infidel, and so on. For in the history of the world, the man who has
been ahead has always been called a heretic. Recollect this! I would
rather come from a race that started from that skull-less vertebrae,
and came up and up and up, and finally produced Shakespeare, who found
the human intellect wallowing in a hut, and touched it with a wand of
his genius, and it became a palace--dome and pinnacle. I would rather
belong to a race that commenced then, and produced Shakespeare, with
the eternal hope of an infinite future for the children of progress
leading from the far horizon, beckoning men forward--forward and onward
forever. I had rather belong to this race, and commence there, with
that hope, than to have sprung from a perfect pair on which the Lord
has lost money every day since.
These are the excuses I have for my race.
Now, my friends, let me say another thing. I do not pretend to have
floated even with the heights of thought; I do not pretend to have
fathomed the abyss. All I pretend is to give simply my honest thought.
Every creed that we have today has upon it the mark of whip and chain
and fagot. I do not want it. Free labor will give us wealth, and has
given us wealth, and why? Because a free brain goes into partnership
with a free hand. That is why. And when a man works for his wife and
children, the problem of liberty is, how to do the most work in the
shortest space of time; but the problem of slavery is, how to do the
least work in the longest space of time. Slavery is poverty; liberty
is wealth.
It is the same in thought. Free thought will give us truth; and the
man who is not in favor of free thought occupies the same relation to
those he can govern that the slaveholder occupied to his slaves,
exactly. Free thought will give us wealth. There has not been a
generation of free thought yet.
It will be time to write a creed when there have been a few generations
of free-brained men and splendid women in this world. I don't know what
the future may bring forth; I don't know what inventions are in the
brain of the future; I don't know what garments may be woven, with the
years to come; but I do know, coming from the infinite sea of the
future, there will never touch this "bank and shoal of time" a greater
blessing, a grander glory, than liberty for man, woman and child.
Oh, liberty! Float not forever in the far horizon! Remain not forever
in the dream of the enthusiast and the poet and the philanthropist!
But come and take up thine abode with the children of men forever!