* A discussion between Col. Robert G. Ingersoll, Hon.
Frederic R. Coudert, Ex-Gov. Stewart L. Woodford, before the
Nineteenth Century Club of New York, at the Metropolitan
Opera House, May 8, 1888. The points for discussion, as
submitted in advance, were the following propositions:
Colonel Ingersoll's Opening.
Ladies, Mr. President and Gentlemen:
I AM here to-night for the purpose of defending your right to differ
with me. I want to convince you that you are under no compulsion to
accept my creed; that you are, so far as I am concerned, absolutely free
to follow the torch of your reason according to your conscience; and I
believe that you are civilized to that degree that you will extend to me
the right that you claim for yourselves.
First. Thought is a necessary natural product--the result of what is
called impressions made through the medium of the senses upon the brain,
not forgetting the Fact of heredity.
Second. No human being is accountable to any being-human or divine--for
his thoughts.
Third. Human beings have a certain interest in the thoughts of each
other, and one who undertakes to tell his thoughts should be honest.
Fourth. All have an equal right to express their thoughts upon all
subjects.
Fifth. For one man to say to another, "I tolerate you," is an assumption
of authority--not a disclaimer, but a waiver, of the right to persecute.
Sixth. Each man has the same right to express to the whole world his
ideas, that the rest of the world have to express their thoughts to him.
Courtlandt Palmer, Esq., President of the Club, in introducing Mr.
Ingersoll, among other things said:
"The inspiration of the orator of the evening seems to be that of the
great Victor Hugo, who uttered the august saying, 'There shall be no
slavery of the mind.'
"When I was in Paris, about a year ago, I visited the tomb of Victor
Hugo. It was placed in a recess in the crypt of the Pantheon. Opposite
it was the tomb of Jean Jacques Rousseau. Near by, in another recess, was
the memorial statue of Voltaire; and I felt, as I looked at these three
monuments, that had Colonel Ingersoll been born in France, and had he
passed in his long life account, the acclaim of the liberal culture of
France would have enlarged that trio into a quartette.
"Colonel Ingersoll has appeared in several important debates in print,
notably with Judge Jeremiah S. Black formerly Attorney-General of the
United States: lately in the pages of The North American Review with the
Rev. Dr. Henry M. Field, and last but not least the Right Hon. William
E Gladstone, England's greatest citizen, has taken up the cudgel against
him in behalf of his view of Orthodoxy To-night, I believe-for the first
time, the colonel has consented to appear in a colloquial discussion. I
have now the honor to introduce this distinguished orator."
I admit, at the very threshold, that every human being thinks as he
must; and the first proposition really is, whether man has the right to
think. It will bear but little discussion, for the reason that no man
can control his thought. If you think you can, what are you going to
think to-morrow? What are you going to think next year? If you can
absolutely control your thought, can you stop thinking?
The question is, Has the will any power over the thought? What is
thought? It is the result of nature--of the outer world--first upon the
senses--those impressions left upon the brain as pictures of things in
the outward world, and these pictures are transformed into, or produce,
thought; and as long as the doors of the senses are open, thoughts will
be produced. Whoever looks at anything in nature, thinks. Whoever hears
any sound--or any symphony--no matter what--thinks. Whoever looks upon
the sea, or on a star, or on a flower, or on the face of a fellow-man,
thinks, and the result of that look is an absolute necessity. The
thought produced will depend upon your brain, upon your experience, upon
the history of your life.
One who looks upon the sea, knowing that the one he loved the best had
been devoured by its hungry waves, will have certain thoughts; and he
who sees it for the first time, will have different thoughts. In other
words, no two brains are alike; no two lives have been or are or ever
will be the same. Consequently, nature cannot produce the same effect
upon any two brains, or upon any two hearts.
The only reason why we wish to exchange thoughts is that we are
different. If we were all the same, we would die dumb. No thought would
be expressed after we found that our thoughts were precisely alike. We
differ--our thoughts are different. Therefore the commerce that we call
conversation.
Back of language is thought. Back of language is the desire to express
our thought to another. This desire not only gave us language--this
desire has given us the libraries of the world. And not only the
libraries; this desire to express thought, to show to others the
splendid children of the brain, has written every book, formed every
language, painted every picture, and chiseled every statue--this desire
to express our thought to others, to reap the harvest of the brain.
If, then, thought is a necessity, "it follows as the night the day"
that there is, there can be, no responsibility for thought to any being,
human or divine.
A camera contains a sensitive plate. The light flashes upon it, and the
sensitive plate receives a picture. Is it in fault, is it responsible,
for the picture? So with the brain. An image is left on it, a picture
is imprinted there. The plate may not be perfectly level--it may be too
concave, or too convex, and the picture may be a deformity; so with the
brain. But the man does not make his own brain, and the consequence is,
if the picture is distorted it is not the fault of the brain.
We take then these two steps: first, thought is a necessity; and second,
the thought depends upon the brain.
Each brain is a kind of field where nature sows with careless hands
the seeds of thought. Some brains are poor and barren fields, producing
weeds and thorns, and some are like the tropic world where grow the palm
and pine--children of the sun and soil.
You read Shakespeare. What do you get out of Shakespeare? All that your
brain is able to hold. It depends upon your brain. If you are great--if
you have been cultivated--if the wings of your imagination have been
spread--if you have had great, free, and splendid thoughts--'r you have
stood upon the edge of things--if you have had the courage to meet all
that can come--you get an immensity from Shakespeare. If you have lived
nobly--if you have loved with every drop of your blood and every fibre
of your being--if you have suffered--if you have enjoyed--then you get
an immensity from Shakespeare. But if you have lived a poor, little,
mean, wasted, barren, weedy life--you get very little from that immortal
man.
So it is from every source in nature--what you get depends upon what you
are.
Take then the second step. If thought is a necessity, there can be
no responsibility for thought. And why has man ever believed that his
fellow-man was responsible for his thought?
Everything that is, everything that has been, has been naturally
produced. Man has acted as, under the same circumstances, we would have
acted; because when you say "under the circumstances," it is the same as
to say that you would do exactly as they have done.
There has always been in men the instinct of self-preservation. There was
a time when men believed, and honestly believed, that there was above
them a God. Sometimes they believed in many, but it will be sufficient
for my illustration to say, one. Man believed that there was in the sky
above him a God who attended to the affairs of men. He believed that
that God, sitting upon his throne, rewarded virtue and punished vice. He
believed also, that that God held the community responsible for the sins
of individuals. He honestly believed it. When the flood came, or when
the earthquake devoured, he really believed that some God was filled
with anger--with holy indignation--at his children. He believed it, and
so he looked about among his neighbors to see who was in fault, and if
there was any man who had failed to bring his sacrifice to the altar,
had failed to kneel, it may be to the priest, failed to be present in
the temple, or had given it as his opinion that the God of that tribe
or of that nation was of no use, then, in order to placate the God, they
seized the neighbor and sacrificed him on the altar of their ignorance
and of their fear.
They believed when the lightning leaped from the cloud and left its
blackened mark upon the man, that he had done something--that he had
excited the wrath of the gods.
And while man so believed, while he believed that it was necessary, in
order to defend himself, to kill his neighbor--he acted simply according
to the dictates of his nature.
What I claim is that we have nov-advanced far enough not only to
think, but to know, that the conduct of man has nothing to do with the
phenomena of nature. We are now advanced far enough to absolutely know
that no man can be bad enough and no nation infamous enough to cause an
earthquake. I think we have got to that point that we absolutely
know that no man can be wicked enough to entice one of the bolts from
heaven--that no man can be cruel enough to cause a drought--and that you
could not have infidels enough on the earth to cause another flood.
I think we have advanced far enough not only to say that, but to
absolutely know it--I mean people who have thought, and in whose minds
there is something like reasoning.
We know, if we know anything, that the lightning is just as apt to hit
a good man as a bad man. We know it. We know that the earthquake is just
as liable to swallow virtue as to swallow vice. And you know just as
well as I do that a ship loaded with pirates is just as apt to outride
the storm as one crowded with missionaries. You know it.
I am now speaking of the phenomena of nature. I believe, as much as
I believe that I live, that the reason a thing is right is because it
tends to the happiness of mankind. I believe, as much as I be-believe
that I live, that on the average the good man is not only the happier
man, but that no man is happy who is not good.
If then we have gotten over that frightful, that awful superstition--we
are ready to enjoy hearing the thoughts of each other.
I do not say, neither do I intend to be understood as saying, that there
is no God. All I intend to say is, that so far as we can see, no man
is punished, no nation is punished by lightning, or famine, or storm.
Everything happens to the one as to the other.
Now, let us admit that there is an infinite God. That has nothing to do
with the sinlessness of thought--nothing to do with the fact that no man
is accountable to any being, human or divine, for what he thinks. And
let me tell you why.
If there be an infinite God, leave him to deal with men who sin against
him. You can trust him, if you believe in him. He has the power. He has
a heaven full of bolts. Trust him. And now that you are satisfied that
the earthquake will not swallow you, or the lightning strike you, simply
because you tell your thoughts, if one of your neighbors differs with
you, and acts improperly or thinks or speaks improperly of your God,
leave him with your God--he can attend to him a thousand times better
than you can, He has the time. He lives from eternity to eternity. More
than that, he has the means. So that, whether there be this Being or
not, you have no right to interfere with your neighbor.
The next proposition is, that I have the same right to express my
thought to the whole world, that the whole world has to express its
thought to me.
I believe that this realm of thought is not a democracy, where
the majority rule; it is not a republic. It is a country with one
inhabitant. This brain is the world in which my mind lives, and my mind
is the sovereign of that realm. We are all kings, and one man balances
the rest of the world as one drop of water balances the sea. Each soul
is crowned. Each soul wears the purple and the tiara; and only those are
good citizens of the intellectual world who give to every other human
being every right that they claim for themselves, and only those are
traitors in the great realm of thought who abandon reason and appeal to
force.
If now I have got out of your minds the idea that you must abuse your
neighbors to keep on good terms with God, then the question of religion
is exactly like every question--I mean of thought, of mind--I have
nothing to say now about action.
Is there authority in the world of art? Can a legislature pass a law
that a certain picture is beautiful, and can it pass a law putting in
the penitentiary any impudent artistic wretch who says that to him it is
not beautiful? Precisely the same with music. Our ears are not all
the same; we are not touched by the same sounds--the same beautiful
memories* do not arise. Suppose you have an authority in music? You may
make men, it may be, by offering them office or by threatening them with
punishment, swear that they all like that tune--but you never will
know till the day of your death whether they do or not. The moment you
introduce a despotism in the world of thought, you succeed in making
hypocrites--and you get in such a position that you never know what your
neighbor thinks.
So in the great realm of religion, there can be no force. No one can be
compelled to pray. No matter how you tie him down, or crush him down on
his face or on his knees, it is above the power of the human race to put
in that man, by force, the spirit of prayer. You cannot do it. Neither
can you compel anybody to worship a God. Worship rises from the heart
like perfume from a flower. It cannot obey; it cannot do that which
some one else commands. It must be absolutely true to the law of its
own nature. And do you think any God would be satisfied with compulsory
worship? Would he like to see long rows of poor, ignorant slaves on
their terrified knees repeating words without a soul--giving him what
you might call the shucks of sound? Will any God be satisfied with
that? And so I say, we must be as free in one department of thought as
another.
Now, I take the next step, and that is, that the rights of all are
absolutely equal.
I have the same right to give you my opinion that you have to give me
yours. I have no right to compel you to hear, if you do not want to. I
have no right to compel you to speak if you do not want to. If you do
not wish to know my thought, I have no right to force it upon you.
The next thing is, that this liberty of thought, this liberty of
expression, is of more value than any other thing beneath the stars. Of
more value than any religion, of more value than any government, of more
value than all the constitutions that man has written and all the laws
that he has passed, is this liberty--the absolute liberty of the human
mind. Take away that word from language, and all other words become
meaningless sounds, and there is then no reason for a man being and
living upon the earth.
So then, I am simply in favor of intellectual hospitality--that is all.
You come to me with a new idea. I invite you into the house. Let us see
what you have. Let us talk it over. If I do not like your thought, I
will bid it a polite "good day." If I do like it, I will say: "Sit down;
stay with me, and become a part of the intellectual wealth of my world."
That is all.
And how any human being ever has had the impudence to speak against the
right to speak, is beyond the power of my imagination. Here is a man
who speaks--who exercises a right that he, by his speech, denies. Can
liberty go further than that? Is there any toleration possible beyond
the liberty to speak against liberty--the real believer in free speech
allowing others to speak against the right to speak? Is there any
limitation beyond that?
So, whoever has spoken against the right to speak has admitted that he
violated his own doctrine. No man can open his mouth against the freedom
of speech without denying every argument he may put forward. Why? He is
exercising the right that he denies. How did he get it? Suppose there
is one man on an island. You will all admit now that he would have the
right to do his own thinking. You will all admit that he has the right
to express his thought. Now, will somebody tell me how many men would
have to emigrate to that island before the original settler would lose
his right to think and his right to express himself?
If there be an infinite Being--and it is a question that I know nothing
about--you would be perfectly astonished to know how little I do know on
that subject, and yet I know as much as the aggregated world knows, and
as little as the smallest insect that ever fanned with happy wings the
summer air--if there be such a Being, I have the same right to think
that he has simply because it is a necessity of my nature--because I
cannot help it. And the Infinite would be just as responsible to the
smallest intelligence living in the infinite spaces--he would be just
as responsible to that intelligence as that intelligence can be to him,
provided that intelligence thinks as a necessity of his nature.
There is another phrase to which I object--"toleration." "The limits
of toleration." Why say "toleration"? I will tell you why. When
the thinkers were in the minority--when the philosophers were
vagabonds--when the men with brains furnished fuel for bonfires--when
the majority were ignorantly orthodox--when they hated the heretic as a
last year's leaf hates a this year's bud--in that delightful time
these poor people in the minority had to say to ignorant power, to
conscientious rascality, to cruelty born of universal love: "Don't kill
us; don't be so arrogantly meek as to burn us; tolerate us." At that
time the minority was too small to talk about rights, and the great big
ignorant majority when tired of shedding blood, said: "Well, we will
tolerate you; we can afford to wait; you will not live long, and when
the Being of infinite compassion gets hold of you we will glut our
revenge through an eternity of joy; we will ask you every now and then,
'What is your opinion now?'"
Both feeling absolutely sure that infinite goodness would have his
revenge, they "tolerated" these thinkers, and that word finally took
the place almost of liberty. But I do not like it. When you say "I
tolerate," you do not say you have no right to punish, no right to
persecute. It is only a disclaimer for a few moments and for a few
years, but you retain the right. I deny it.
And let me say here to-night--it is your experience, it is mine--that
the bigger a man is the more charitable he is; you know it. The more
brain he has, the more excuses he finds for all the world; you know it.
And if there be in heaven an infinite Being, he must be grander than any
man; he must have a thousand times more charity than the human heart can
hold, and is it possible that he is going to hold his ignorant children
responsible for the impressions made by nature upon their brain? Let us
have some sense.
There is another side to this question, and that is with regard to the
freedom of thought and expression in matters pertaining to this world.
No man has a right to hurt the character of a neighbor. He has no right
to utter slander. He has no right to bear false witness. He has no right
to be actuated by any motive except for the general good--but the
things he does here to his neighbor--these are easily defined and easily
punished. All that I object to is setting up a standard of authority in
the world of art, the world of beauty, the world of poetry, the world
of worship, the world of religion, and the world of metaphysics. That is
what I object to; and if the old doctrines had been carried out, every
human being that has benefited this world would have been destroyed.
If the people who believe that a certain belief is necessary to insure
salvation had had control of this world, we would have been as ignorant
to-night as wild beasts. Every step in advance has been made in spite of
them. There has not been a book of any value printed since the invention
of that art--and when I say "of value," I mean that contained new
and splendid truths--that was not anathematized by the gentlemen who
believed that man is responsible for his thought. Every step has been
taken in spite of that doctrine.
Consequently I simply believe in absolute liberty of mind. And I have no
fear about any other world--not the slightest. When I get there, I will
give my honest opinion of that country; I will give my honest thought
there; and if for that I lose my soul, I will keep at least my
self-respect.
A man tells me a story. I believe it, or disbelieve it. I cannot help
it. I read a story--no matter whether in the original Hebrew, or whether
it has been translated. I believe it or I disbelieve it. No matter
whether it is written in a very solemn or a very flippant manner--I have
my idea about its truth. And I insist that each man has the right to
judge that for himself, and for that reason, as I have already said, I
am defending your right to differ with me--that is all. And if you do
differ with me, all that it proves is that I do not agree with you.
There is no man that lives to-night beneath the stars--there is no
being--that can force my soul upon its knees, unless the reason is
given. I will be no slave. I do not care how big my master is, I am just
as small, if a slave, as though the master were small. It is not the
greatness of the master that can honor the slave. In other words, I
am going to act according to my right, as I understand it, without
interfering with any other human being. And now, if you think--any of
you, that you can control your thought, I want you to try it. There is
not one here who can by any possibility think, only as he must.
You remember the story of the Methodist minister who insisted that he
could control his thoughts. A man said to him, "Nobody can control his
own mind." "Oh, yes, he can," the preacher replied. "My dear sir," said
the man, "you cannot even say the Lord's Prayer without thinking of
something else." "Oh, yes, I can." "Well, if you will do it, I will give
you that horse, the best riding horse in this county." "Well, who is to
judge?" said the preacher. "I will take your own word for it, and if you
say the Lord's Prayer through without thinking of anything else, I will
give you that horse." So the minister shut his eyes and began: "Our
Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy
will be done,"--"I suppose you will throw in the saddle and bridle?"
I say to you to-night, ladies and gentlemen, that I feel more interest
in the freedom of thought and speech than in all other questions,
knowing, as I do, that it is the condition of great and splendid
progress for the race; remembering, as I do, that the opposite idea has
covered the cheek of the world with tears; remembering, and knowing, as
I do, that the enemies of free thought and free speech have covered this
world with blood. These men have filled the heavens with an infinite
monster; they have filled the future with fire and flame, and they have
made the present, when they have had the power, a perdition. These men,
these doctrines, have carried fagots to the feet of philosophy. These
men, these doctrines, have hated to see the dawn of an intellectual day.
These men, these doctrines, have denied every science, and denounced and
killed every philosopher they could lay their bloody, cruel, ignorant
hands upon.
And for that reason, I am for absolute liberty of thought, everywhere,
in every department, domain, and realm of the human mind.