[* Robert G. Ingersoll rarely takes the trouble to answer critics.
His recent address over the dead body of his friend John G. Mills
has called forth a storm of denunciation from nearly every pulpit
in the country. The writer called at the Colonel's office in New York
Avenue yesterday and asked him to reply to some of the points made
against him. Reluctantly he assented.]
_Question_. Have you seen the recent clerical strictures upon your
doctrines?
_Answer_. There are always people kind enough to send me anything
they have the slightest reason to think I do not care to read.
They seem to be animated by a missionary spirit, and apparently
want to be in a position when they see me in hell to exclaim: "You
can't blame me. I sent you all the impudent articles I saw, and
if you died unconverted it was no fault of mine."
_Question_. Did you notice that a Washington clergyman said that
the very fact that you were allowed to speak at the funeral was in
itself a sacrilege, and that you ought to have been stopped?
_Answer_. Yes, I saw some such story. Of course, the clergy regard
marriages and funerals as the perquisites of the pulpit, and they
resent any interference on the part of the pews. They look at
these matters from a business point of view. They made the same
cry against civil marriages. They denied that marriage was a
contract, and insisted that it was a sacrament, and that it was
hardly binding unless a priest had blessed it. They used to bury
in consecrated ground, and had marks upon the graves, so that
Gabriel might know the ones to waken. The clergy wish to make
themselves essential. They must christen the babe--this gives them
possession of the cradle. They must perform the ceremony of marriage
--this gives them possession of the family. They must pronounce
the funeral discourse--this gives them possession of the dead.
Formerly they denied baptism to the children of the unbeliever,
marriage to him who denied the dogmas of the church, and burial to
honest men. The church wishes to control the world, and wishes to
sacrifice this world for the next. Of course I am in favor of the
utmost liberty upon all these questions. When a Presbyterian dies,
let a follower of John Calvin console the living by setting forth
the "Five Points." When a Catholic becomes clay, let a priest
perform such ceremonies as his creed demands, and let him picture
the delights of purgatory for the gratification of the living.
And when one dies who does not believe in any religion, having
expressed a wish that somebody say a few words above his remains,
I see no reason why such a proceeding should be stopped, and, for
my part, I see no sacrilege in it. Why should the reputations of
the dead, and the feelings of those who live, be placed at the
mercy of the ministers? A man dies not having been a Christian,
and who, according to the Christian doctrine, is doomed to eternal
fire. How would an honest Christian minister console the widow
and the fatherless children? How would he dare to tell what he
claims to be truth in the presence of the living? The truth is,
the Christian minister in the presence of death abandons his
Christianity. He dare not say above the coffin, "the soul that
once inhabited this body is now in hell." He would be denounced
as a brutal savage. Now and then a minister at a funeral has been
brave enough and unmannerly enough to express his doctrine in all
its hideousness of hate. I was told that in Chicago, many years
ago, a young man, member of a volunteer fire company, was killed
by the falling of a wall, and at the very moment the wall struck
him he was uttering a curse. He was a brave and splendid man. An
orthodox minister said above his coffin, in the presence of his
mother and mourning friends, that he saw no hope for the soul of
that young man. The mother, who was also orthodox, refused to have
her boy buried with such a sermon--stopped the funeral, took the
corpse home, engaged a Universalist preacher, and, on the next day
having heard this man say that there was no place in the wide
universe of God without hope, and that her son would finally stand
among the redeemed, this mother laid her son away, put flowers upon
his grave, and was satisfied.
_Question_. What have you to say to the charge that you are
preaching the doctrine of despair and hopelessness, when they have
the comforting assurances of the Christian religion to offer?
_Answer_. All I have to say is this: If the Christian religion
is true, as commonly preached--and when I speak of Christianity,
I speak of the orthodox Christianity of the day--if that be true,
those whom I have loved the best are now in torment. Those to whom
I am most deeply indebted are now suffering the vengeance of God.
If this religion be true, the future is of no value to me. I care
nothing about heaven, unless the ones I love and have loved are
there. I know nothing about the angels. I might not like them,
and they might not like me. I would rather meet there the ones
who have loved me here--the ones who would have died for me, and
for whom I would have died; and if we are to be eternally divided
--not because we differed in our views of justice, not because we
differed about friendship or love or candor, or the nobility of
human action, but because we differed in belief about the atonement
or baptism or the inspiration of the Scriptures--and if some of us
are to be in heaven, and some in hell, then, for my part, I prefer
eternal sleep. To me the doctrine of annihilation is infinitely
more consoling, than the probable separation preached by the orthodox
clergy of our time. Of course, even if there be a God, I like
persons that I know, better than I can like him--we have more in
common--I know more about them; and how is it possible for me to
love the infinite and unknown better than the ones I know? Why
not have the courage to say that if there be a God, all I know
about him I know by knowing myself and my friends--by knowing
others? And, after all, is not a noble man, is not a pure woman,
the finest revelation we have of God--if there be one? Of what
use is it to be false to ourselves? What moral quality is there
in theological pretence? Why should a man say that he loves God
better than he does his wife or his children or his brother or his
sister or his warm, true friend? Several ministers have objected
to what I said about my friend Mr. Mills, on the ground that it
was not calculated to console the living. Mr. Mills was not a
Christian. He denied the inspiration of the Scriptures. He believed
that restitution was the best repentance, and that, after all, sin
is a mistake. He was not a believer in total depravity, or in the
atonement. He denied these things. He was an unbeliever. Now,
let me ask, what consolation could a Christian minister have given
to his family? He could have said to the widow and the orphans,
to the brother and sister: "Your husband, your father, your brother,
is now in hell; dry your tears; weep not for him, but try and save
yourselves. He has been damned as a warning to you, care no more
for him, why should you weep over the grave of a man whom God thinks
fit only to be eternally tormented? Why should you love the memory
of one whom God hates?" The minister could have said: "He had an
opportunity--he did not take it. The life-boat was lowered--he
would not get in--he has been drowned, and the waves of God's wrath
will sweep over him forever." This is the consolation of Christianity
and the only honest consolation that Christianity can have for the
widow and orphans of an unbeliever. Suppose, however, that the
Christian minister has too tender a heart to tell what he believes
to be the truth--then he can say to the sorrowing friends: "Perhaps
the man repented before he died; perhaps he is not in hell, perhaps
you may meet him in heaven;" and this "perhaps" is a consolation
not growing out of Christianity, but out of the politeness of the
preacher--out of paganism.
_Question_. Do you not think that the Bible has consolation for
those who have lost their friends?
_Answer_. There is about the Old Testament this strange fact--I
find in it no burial service. There is in it, I believe, from the
first mistake in Genesis to the last curse in Malachi, not one word
said over the dead as to their place and state. When Abraham died,
nobody said: "He is still alive--he is in another world." When
the prophets passed away, not one word was said as to the heaven
to which they had gone. In the Old Testament, Saul inquired of
the witch, and Samuel rose. Samuel did not pretend that he had
been living, or that he was alive, but asked: "Why hast thou
disquieted me?" He did not pretend to have come from another world.
And when David speaks of his son, saying that he could not come
back to him, but that he, David, could go to his son, that is but
saying that he, too, must die. There is not in the Old Testament
one hope of immortality. It is expressly asserted that there is
no difference between the man and beast--that as the one dieth so
dieth the other. There is one little passage in Job which commentators
have endeavored to twist into a hope of immortality. Here is a
book of hundreds and hundreds of pages, and hundreds and hundreds
of chapters--a revelation from God--and in it one little passage,
which, by a mistranslation, is tortured into saying something about
another life. And this is the Old Testament. I have sometimes
thought that the Jews, when slaves in Egypt, were mostly occupied
in building tombs for mummies, and that they became so utterly
disgusted with that kind of work, that the moment they founded a
nation for themselves they went out of the tomb business. The
Egyptians were believers in immortality, and spent almost their
entire substance upon the dead. The living were impoverished to
enrich the dead. The grave absorbed the wealth of Egypt. The
industry of a nation was buried. Certainly the Old Testament has
nothing clearly in favor of immortality. In the New Testament we
are told about the "kingdom of heaven,"--that it is at hand--and
about who shall be worthy, but it is hard to tell what is meant by
the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom of heaven was apparently to be
in this world, and it was about to commence. The Devil was to be
chained for a thousand years, the wicked were to be burned up, and
Christ and his followers were to enjoy the earth. This certainly
was the doctrine of Paul when he says: "Behold, I show you a
mystery; We shall not all _sleep_, but we shall all be _changed_.
In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump; for
the trumpet shall sound, and the _dead_ shall be _raised_ incorruptible,
and _we_ shall be _changed_. For this corruptible must put on
incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality." According
to this doctrine, those who were alive were to be changed, and
those who had died were to be raised from the dead. Paul certainly
did not refer to any other world beyond this. All these things
were to happen here. The New Testament is made up of the fragments
of many religions. It is utterly inconsistent with itself; and
there is not a particle of evidence of the resurrection and ascension
of Christ--neither in the nature of things could there be. It is
a thousand times more probable that people were mistaken than that
such things occurred. If Christ really rose from the dead, he
should have shown himself, not simply to his disciples, but to the
very men who crucified him--to Herod, to the high priest, to Pilate.
He should have made a triumphal entry into Jerusalem after his
resurrection, instead of before. He should have shown himself to
the Sadducees,--to those who denied the existence of spirit. Take
from the New Testament its doctrine of eternal pain--the idea that
we can please God by acts of self-denial that can do no good to
others--take away all its miracles, and I have no objection to all
the good things in it--no objection to the hope of a future life,
if such a hope is expressed--not the slightest. And I would not
for the world say anything to take from any mind a hope in which
dwells the least comfort, but a doctrine that dooms a large majority
of mankind to eternal flames ought not to be called a consolation.
What I say is, that the writers of the New Testament knew no more
about the future state than I do, and no less. The horizon of life
has never been pierced. The veil between time and what is called
eternity, has never been raised, so far as I know; and I say of
the dead what all others must say if they say only what they know.
There is no particular consolation in a guess. Not knowing what
the future has in store for the human race, it is far better to
prophesy good than evil. It is better to hope that the night has
a dawn, that the sky has a star, than to build a heaven for the
few, and a hell for the many. It is better to leave your dead in
doubt than in fire--better that they should sleep in shadow than
in the lurid flames of perdition. And so I say, and always have
said, let us hope for the best. The minister asks: "What right
have you to hope? It is sacrilegious in you!" But, whether the
clergy like it or not, I shall always express my real opinion, and
shall always be glad to say to those who mourn: "There is in death,
as I believe, nothing worse than sleep. Hope for as much better
as you can. Under the seven-hued arch let the dead rest." Throw
away the Bible, and you throw away the fear of hell, but the hope
of another life remains, because the hope does not depend upon a
book--it depends upon the heart--upon human affection. The fear,
so far as this generation is concerned, is born of the book, and
that part of the book was born of savagery. Whatever of hope is
in the book is born, as I said before, of human affection, and the
higher our civilization the greater the affection. I had rather
rest my hope of something beyond the grave upon the human heart,
than upon what they call the Scriptures, because there I find
mingled with the hope of something good the threat of infinite
evil. Among the thistles, thorns and briers of the Bible is one
pale and sickly flower of hope. Among all its wild beasts and
fowls, only one bird flies heavenward. I prefer the hope without
the thorns, without the briers, thistles, hyenas, and serpents.
_Question_. Do you not know that it is claimed that immortality
was brought to light in the New Testament, that that, in fact, was
the principal mission of Christ?
_Answer_. I know that Christians claim that the doctrine of
immortality was first taught in the New Testament. They also claim
that the highest morality was found there. Both these claims are
utterly without foundation. Thousands of years before Christ was
born--thousands of years before Moses saw the light--the doctrine
of immortality was preached by the priests of Osiris and Isis.
Funeral discourses were pronounced over the dead, ages before
Abraham existed. When a man died in Egypt, before he was taken
across the sacred lake, he had a trial. Witnesses appeared, and
if he had done anything wrong, for which he had not done restitution,
he was not taken across the lake. The living friends, in disgrace,
carried the body back, and it was buried outside of what might be
called consecrated ground, while the ghost was supposed to wander
for a hundred years. Often the children of the dead would endeavor
to redeem the poor ghost by acts of love and kindness. When he
came to the spirit world there was the god Anubis, who weighed his
heart in the scales of eternal justice, and if the good deed
preponderated he entered the gates of Paradise; if the evil, he
had to go back to the world, and be born in the bodies of animals
for the purpose of final purification. At last, the good deeds
would outweigh the evil, and, according to the religion of Egypt,
the latch-string of heaven would never be drawn in until the last
wanderer got home. Immortality was also taught in India, and, in
fact, in all the countries of antiquity. Wherever men have loved,
wherever they have dreamed, wherever hope has spread its wings,
the idea of immortality has existed. But nothing could be worse
than the immortality promised in the New Testament--admitting that
it is so promised--eternal joy side by side with eternal pain.
Think of living forever, knowing that countless millions are
suffering eternal pain! How much better it would be for God to
commit suicide and let all life and motion cease! Christianity
has no consolation except for the Christian, and if a Christian
minister endeavors to console the widow of an unbeliever he must
resort, not to his religion, but to his sympathy--to the natural
promptings of the heart. He is compelled to say: "After all, may
be God is not so bad as we think," or, "May be your husband was
better than he appeared; perhaps somehow, in some way, the dear
man has squeezed in; he was a good husband, he was a kind father,
and even if he is in hell, may be he is in the temperate zone,
where they have occasional showers, and where, if the days are hot,
the nights are reasonably cool." All I ask of Christian ministers
is to tell what they believe to be the truth--not to borrow ideas
from the pagans--not to preach the mercy born of unregenerate
sympathy. Let them tell their real doctrines. If they will do
that, they will not have much influence. If orthodox Christianity
is true, a large majority of the man who have made this world fit
to live in are now in perdition. A majority of the Revolutionary
soldiers have been damned. A majority of the man who fought for
the integrity of this Union--a majority who were starved at Libby
and Andersonville are now in hell.
_Question_. Do you deny the immortality of the soul?
_Answer_. I have never denied the immortality of the soul. I have
simply been honest. I have said: "I do not know." Long ago, in
my lecture on "The Ghosts," I used the following language: "The
idea of immortality, that like a sea has ebbed and flowed in the
human heart, with its countless waves of hope and fear beating
against the shores and rocks of time and fate, was not born of any
book, nor of any creed, nor of any religion. It was born of human
affection, and it will continue to ebb and flow beneath the mists
and clouds of doubt and darkness as long as love kisses the lips
of death. It is the rainbow Hope, shining upon the tears of grief."
--_The Post_, Washington, D. C., April 30, 1883.