V.

NO one objects to the morality of Christianity.

The industrious people of the world--those who have anything--are, as

a rule, opposed to larceny; a very large majority of people object to

being murdered, and so we have laws against larceny and murder. A large

majority of people believe in what they call, or what they understand

to be, justice--at least as between others. There is no very great

difference of opinion among civilized people as to what is or is not

moral.

It cannot truthfully be said that the man who attacks Buddhism attacks

all morality. He does not attack goodness, justice, mercy, or anything

that tends in his judgment to the welfare of mankind; but he attacks

Buddhism. So one attacking what is called Christianity does not attack

kindness, charity, or any virtue. He attacks something that has been

added to the virtues. He does not attack the flower, but what he

believes to be the parasite.

If people, when they speak of Christianity, include the virtues common

to all religions, they should not give Christianity credit for all the

good that has been done. There were millions of virtuous men and women,

millions of heroic and self-denying souls before Christianity was known.

It does not seen possible to me that love, kindness, justice, or

charity ever caused any one who possessed and practiced these virtues

to persecute his fellow-man on account of a difference of belief. If

Christianity has persecuted, some reason must exist outside of the

virtues it has inculcated. If this reason--this cause--is inherent in

that something else, which has been added to the ordinary virtues, then

Christianity can properly be held accountable for the persecution. Of

course back of Christianity is the nature of man, and, primarily, it may

be responsible.

Is there anything in Christianity that will account for such

persecutions--for the Inquisition? It certainly was taught by the church

that belief was necessary to salvation, and it was thought at the same

time that the fate of man was eternal punishment; that the state of man

was that of depravity, and that there was but one way by which he could

be saved, and that was through belief--through faith. As long as this

was honestly believed, Christians would not allow heretics or infidels

to preach a doctrine to their wives, to their children, or to themselves

which, in their judgment, would result in the damnation of souls.

The law gives a father the right to kill one who is about to do great

bodily harm to his son. Now, if a father has the right to take the life

of a man simply because he is attacking the body of his son, how much

more would he have the right to take the life of one who was about to

assassinate the soul of his son!

Christians reasoned in this way. In addition to this, they felt that

God would hold the community responsible if the community allowed

a blasphemer to attack the true religion. Therefore they killed the

freethinker, or rather the free talker, in self-defence.

At the bottom of religious persecution is the doctrine of self-defence;

that is to say, the defence of the soul. If the founder of Christianity

had plainly said: "It is not necessary to believe in order to be saved;

it is only necessary to do, and he who really loves his fellow-men, who

is kind, honest, just and charitable, is to be forever blest"--if he had

only said that, there would probably have been but little persecution.

If he had added to this: "You must not persecute in my name. The

religion I teach is the Religion of Love--not the Religion of Force and

Hatred. You must not imprison your fellow-men. You must not stretch them

upon racks, or crush their bones in iron boots. You must not flay them

alive. You must not cut off their eyelids, or pour molten lead into

their ears. You must treat all with absolute kindness. If you cannot

convert your neighbor by example, persuasion, argument, that is the end.

You must never resort to force, and, whether he believes as you do or

not, treat him always with kindness"--his followers then would not have

murdered their fellows in his name.

If Christ was in fact God, he knew the persecutions that would be

carried on in his name; he knew the millions that would suffer death

through torture; and yet he died without saying one word to prevent what

he must have known, if he were God, would happen.

All that Christianity has added to morality is worthless and useless.

Not only so--it has been hurtful. Take Christianity from morality and

the useful is left, but take morality from Christianity and the useless

remains.

Now, falling back on the old assertion, "By its fruits we may know

Christianity," then I think we are justified in saying that, as

Christianity consists of a mixture of morality and _something else_, and

as morality never has persecuted a human being, and as Christianity has

persecuted millions, the cause of the persecution must be the _something

else_ that was added to morality.

I cannot agree with the reverend gentleman when he says that

"Christianity has taught mankind the priceless value and dignity of

human nature." On the other hand, Christianity has taught that the

whole human race is by nature depraved, and that if God should act

in accordance with his sense of justice, all the sons of men would be

doomed to eternal pain. Human nature has been derided, has been held up

to contempt and scorn, all our desires and passions denounced as wicked

and filthy.

Dr. Da Costa asserts that Christianity has taught mankind the value of

freedom. It certainly has not been the advocate of free thought; and

what is freedom worth if the mind is to be enslaved?

Dr. Da Costa knows that millions have been sacrificed in their efforts

to be free; that is, millions have been sacrificed for exercising their

freedom as against the church.

It is not true that the church "has taught and established the fact of

human brotherhood." This has been the result of a civilization to which

Christianity itself has been hostile.

Can we prove that "the church established human brotherhood" by

banishing the Jews from Spain; by driving out the Moors; by the tortures

of the Inquisition; by butchering the Covenanters of Scotland; by the

burning of Bruno and Servetus; by the persecution of the Irish; by

whipping and hanging Quakers in New England; by the slave trade; and by

the hundreds of wars waged in the name of Christ?

We all know that the Bible upholds slavery in its very worst and most

cruel form; and how it can be said that a religion founded upon a Bible

that upholds the institution of slavery has taught and established the

fact of human brotherhood, is beyond my imagination to conceive.

Neither do I think it true that "we are indebted to Christianity for the

advancement of science, art, philosophy, letters and learning."

I cheerfully admit that we are indebted to Christianity for some

learning, and that the human mind has been developed by the discussion

of the absurdities of superstition. Certainly millions and millions have

had what might be called mental exercise, and their minds may have

been somewhat broadened by the examination, even, of these absurdities,

contradictions, and impossibilities. The church was not the friend of

science or learning when it burned Vanini for writing his "Dialogues

Concerning Nature." What shall we say of the "Index Expurgatorius"? For

hundreds of years all books of any particular value were placed on the

"Index," and good Catholics forbidden to read them. Was this in favor of

science and learning?

That we are indebted to Christianity for the advancement of science

seems absurd. What science? Christianity was certainly the enemy of

astronomy, and I believe that it was Mr. Draper who said that astronomy

took her revenge, so that not a star that glitters in all the heavens

bears a Christian name.

Can it be said that the church has been the friend of geology, or of any

true philosophy? Let me show how this is impossible.

The church accepts the Bible as an inspired book. Then the only object

is to find its meaning, and if that meaning is opposed to any result

that the human mind may have reached, the meaning stands and the result

reached by the mind must be abandoned.

For hundreds of years the Bible was the standard, and whenever

anything was asserted in any science contrary to-the Bible, the church

immediately denounced the scientist. I admit the standard has been

changed, and ministers are very busy, not trying to show that science

does not agree with the Bible, but that the Bible agrees with science.

Certainly Christianity has done little for art. The early Christians

destroyed all the marbles of Greece and Rome upon which they could lay

their violent hands; and nothing has been produced by the Christian

world equal to the fragments that were accidentally preserved. There

have been many artists who were Christians; but they were not artists

because they were Christians; because there have been many Christians

who were not artists. It cannot be said that art is born of any creed.

The mode of expression may be determined, and probably is to a certain

degree, by the belief of the artist; but not his artistic perception and

feeling.

So, Galileo did not make his discoveries because he was a Christian,

but in spite of it. His Bible was the other way, and so was his creed.

Consequently, they could not by any possibility have assisted him.

Kepler did not discover or announce what are known as the "Three Laws"

because he was a Christian; but, as I said about Galileo, in spite of

his creed.

Every Christian who has really found out and demonstrated and clung to

a fact inconsistent with the absolute inspiration of the Scriptures, has

done so certainly without the assistance of his creed.

Let me illustrate this: When our ancestors were burning each other to

please God; when they were ready to destroy a man with sword and

flame for teaching the rotundity of the world, the Moors in Spain were

teaching geography to their children with brass globes. So, too, they

had observatories and knew something of the orbits of the stars.

They did not find out these things because they were Mohammedans, or

on account of their belief in the impossible. They were far beyond the

Christians, intellectually, and it has been very poetically said by Mrs.

Browning, that "Science was thrust into the brain of Europe on the point

of a Moorish lance."

From the Arabs we got our numerals, making mathematics of the higher

branches practical. We also got from them the art of making cotton

paper, which is almost at the foundation of modern intelligence. We

learned from them to make cotton cloth, making cleanliness possible in

Christendom.

So from among people of different religions we have learned many useful

things; but they did not discover them on account of their religion.

It will not do to say that the religion of Greece was true because the

Greeks were the greatest sculptors. Neither is it an argument in favor

of monarchy that Shakespeare, the greatest of men, was born and lived in

a monarchy.

Dr. Da Costa takes one of the effects of a general cause, or of a vast

number of causes, and makes it the cause, not only of other effects,

but of the general cause. He seems to think that all events for

many centuries, and especially all the good ones, were caused by

Christianity.

As a matter of fact, the civilization of our time is the result of

countless causes with which Christianity had little to do, except by way

of hindrance.

Does the Doctor think that the material progress of the world was caused

by this passage: "Take no thought for the morrow"?

Does he seriously insist that the wealth of Christendom rests on this

inspired declaration: "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye

of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven"?

The Rev. Mr. Peters, in answer, takes the ground that the Bible has

produced the richest and most varied literature the world has ever seen.

This, I think, is hardly true. Has not most of modern literature

been produced in spite of the Bible? Did not Christians, for many

generations, take the ground that the Bible was the only important book,

and that books differing from the Bible should be destroyed?

If Christianity--Catholic and Protestant--could have had its way, the

works of Voltaire, Spinoza, Hume, Paine, Humboldt, Darwin, Haeckel,

Spencer, Comte, Huxley, Tyndall, Draper, Goethe, Gibbon, Buckle and

Buechner would not have been published. In short, the philosophy that

enlightens and the fiction that enriches the brain would not exist.

The greatest literature the world has ever seen is, in my judgment, the

poetic--the dramatic; that is to say, the literature of fiction in its

widest sense. Certainly if the church could have had control, the plays

of Shakespeare never would have been written; the literature of the

stage could not have existed; most works of fiction, and nearly all

poetry, would have perished in the brain. So I think it hardly fair to

say that "the Bible has produced the richest and most varied literature

the world has ever seen."

Thousands of theological books have been written on thousands of

questions of no possible importance. Libraries have been printed on

subjects not worth discussing--not worth thinking about--and that will,

in a few years, be regarded as puerile by the whole world.

Mr. Peters, in his enthusiasm, asks this question:

"Who raised our great institutions of learning? Infidels never a stone

of them!"

Stephen Girard founded the best institution of learning, the best

charity, the noblest ever founded in this or any other land; and under

the roof built by his wisdom and his wealth many thousands of orphans

have been reared, clothed, fed and educated, not only in books, but in

avocations, and become happy and useful citizens. Under his will

there has been distributed to the poor, fuel to the value of more than

$500,000; and this distribution goes on year after year.

One of the best observatories in the world was built by the generosity

of James Lick, an infidel. I call attention to these two cases simply

to show that the gentleman is mistaken, and that he was somewhat carried

away by his zeal.

So, too, Mr. Peters takes the ground that "we are indebted to

Christianity for our chronology."

According to Christianity this world has been peopled about six thousand

years. Christian chronology gives the age of the first man, and then

gives the line from father to son down to the flood, and from the flood

down to the coming of Christ, showing that men have been upon the earth

only about six thousand years. This chronology is infinitely absurd, and

I do not believe that there is an intelligent, well-educated Christian

in the world, having examined the subject, who will say that the

Christian chronology is correct.

Neither can it, I think, truthfully be said that "we are indebted

to Christianity for the continuation of history." The best modern

historians of whom I have any knowledge are Voltaire, Hume, Gibbon,

Buckle and Draper.

Neither can I admit that "we are indebted to Christianity for natural

philosophy."

I do not deny that some natural philosophers have also been Christians,

or, rather, that some Christians have been natural philosophers to the

extent that their Christianity permitted. But Lamarck and Humboldt and

Darwin and Spencer and Haeckel and Huxley and Tyndall have done far more

for natural philosophy than they have for orthodox religion.

Whoever believes in the miraculous must be the enemy of natural

philosophy. To him there is something above nature, liable to interfere

with nature. Such a man has two classes of ideas in his mind, each

inconsistent with the other. To the extent that he believes in the

supernatural he is incapacitated for dealing with the natural, and to

that extent fails to be a philosopher. Philosophy does not include the

caprice of the Infinite. It is founded on the absolute integrity and

invariability of nature.

Neither do I agree with the reverend gentleman when he says that "we are

indebted to Christianity for our knowledge of philology."

The church taught for a long time that Hebrew was the first language and

that other languages had been derived from that; and for hundreds and

hundreds of years the efforts of philologists were arrested simply

because they started with that absurd assumption and believed in the

Tower of Babel.

Christianity cannot now take the credit for "metaphysical research." It

has always been the enemy of metaphysical research. It never has said

to any human being, "Think!" It has always said, "Hear!" It does not

ask anybody to investigate. It lays down certain doctrines as absolutely

true, and, instead of asking investigation, it threatens every

investigator with eternal pain. Metaphysical research is destroying what

has been called Christianity, and Christians have always feared it.

This gentleman makes another mistake, and a very common one. This is his

argument: Christian countries are the most intelligent; therefore they

owe that intelligence to Christianity. Then the next step is taken.

Christianity, being the best, having produced these results, must have

been of divine origin.

Let us see what this proves. There was a time when Egypt was the first

nation in the world. Could not an Egyptian, at that time have used the

same arguments that Mr. Peters uses now, to prove that the religion

of Egypt was divine? Could he not then have said: "Egypt is the most

intelligent, the most civilized and the richest of all nations; it has

been made so by its religion; its religion is, therefore, divine"?

So there was a time when a Hindoo could have made the same argument.

Certainly this argument could have been made by a Greek. It could have

been repeated by a Roman. And yet Mr. Peters will not admit that the

religion of Egypt was divine, or that the mythology of Greece was true,

or that Jupiter was in fact a god.

Is it not evident to all that if the churches in Europe had been

institutions of learning; if the domes of cathedrals had been

observatories; if priests had been teachers of the facts in nature, the

world would have been far in advance of what it is to-day?

Countries depend on something besides their religion for progress.

Nations with a good soil can get along quite well with an exceedingly

poor religion; and no religion yet has been good enough to give wealth

or happiness to human beings where the climate and soil were bad and

barren.

Religion supports nobody. It has to be supported. It produces no wheat,

no corn; it ploughs no land; it fells no forests. It is a perpetual

mendicant. It lives on the labor of others, and then has the arrogance

to pretend that it supports the giver.

Mr. Peters makes this exceedingly strange statement: "Every discovery in

science, invention and art has been the work of Christian men. Infidels

have contributed their share, but never one of them has reached the

grandeur of originality."

This, I think, so far as invention is concerned, can be answered with

one name--John Ericsson, one of the profoundest agnostics I ever met.

I am almost certain that Humboldt and Goethe were original. Darwin was

certainly regarded as such.

I do not wish to differ unnecessarily with Mr. Peters, but I have some

doubts about Morse having been the inventor of the telegraph.

Neither can I admit that Christianity abolished slavery. Many of

the abolitionists in this country were infidels; many of them were

Christians. But the church itself did not stand for liberty. The

Quakers, I admit, were, as a rule, on the side of freedom. But the

Christians of New England persecuted these Quakers, whipped them from

town to town, lacerated their naked backs, and maimed their bodied, not

only, but took their lives.

Mr. Peters asks: "What name is there among the world's emancipators

after which you cannot write the name 'Christian?'" Well, let me give

him a few--Voltaire, Jefferson, Paine, Franklin, Lincoln, Darwin.

Mr. Peters asks: "Why is it that in Christian countries you find the

greatest amount of physical and intellectual liberty, the greatest

freedom of thought, speech, and action?"

Is this true of all? How about Spain and Portugal? There is more

infidelity in France than in Spain, and there is far more liberty in

France than in Spain.

There is far more infidelity in England than there was a century ago,

and there is far more liberty than there was a century ago. There is far

more infidelity in the United States than there was fifty years ago, and

a hundred infidels to-day where there was one fifty years ago; and there

is far more intellectual liberty, far greater freedom of speech and

action, than ever before.

A few years ago Italy was a Christian country to the fullest extent.

Now there are a thousand times more liberty and a thousand times less

religion.

Orthodoxy is dying; Liberty is growing.

Mr. Ballou, a grandson, or grand-nephew, of Hosea Ballou, seems to have

wandered from the faith. As a rule, Christians insist that when one

denies the religion of Christian parents he is an exceedingly bad man,

but when he denies the religion of parents not Christians, and becomes a

Christian, that he is a very faithful, good and loving son.

Mr. Ballou insists that God has the same right to punish us that Nature

has, or that the State has. I do not think he understands what I have

said. The State ought not to punish for the sake of punishment. The

State may imprison, or inflict what is called punishment, first, for its

own protection, and, secondly, for the reformation of the punished. If

no one could do the State any injury, certainly the State would have

no right to punish under the plea of protection; and if no human being

could by any possibility be reformed, then the excuse of reformation

could not be given.

Let us apply this: If God be infinite, no one can injure him. Therefore

he need not punish anybody or damn anybody or burn anybody for his

protection.

Let us take another step. Punishment being justified only on two

grounds--that is, the protection of society and the reformation of the

punished--how can eternal punishment be justified? In the first place,

God does not punish to protect himself, and, in the second place, if the

punishment is to be forever, he does not punish to reform the punished.

What excuse then is left?

Let us take still another step. If, instead of punishment, we say

"consequences," and that every good man has the right to reap the good

consequences of good actions, and that every bad man must bear the

consequences of bad actions, then you must say to the good: If you stop

doing good you will lose the harvest. You must say to the bad: If you

stop doing bad you need not increase your burdens. And if it be a fact

in Nature that all must reap what they sow, there is neither mercy nor

cruelty in this fact, and I hold no God responsible for it. The trouble

with the Christian creed is that God is described as the one who gives

rewards and the one who inflicts eternal pain.

There is still another trouble. This God, if infinite, must have known

when he created man, exactly who would be eternally damned. What right

had he to create men, knowing that they were to be damned?

So much for Mr. Ballou.

The Rev. Dr. Hillier seems to reason in a kind of circle. He takes the

ground, in the first place, that "infidelity, Christianity, science, and

experience all agree, without the slightest tremor of uncertainty, in

the inexorable law that whatsoever a man sows that shall he also reap."

He then takes the ground that, "if we wish to be rid of the harvest, we

must not sow the seed; if we would avoid the result, we must remove the

cause; the only way to be rid of hell is to stop doing evil; that this,

and this only, is the way to abolish an eternal penitentiary."

Very good; but that is not the point. The real thing under discussion

is this: Is this life a state of probation, and if a man fails to live

a good life here, will he have no opportunity for reformation in

another world, if there be one? Can he cease to do evil in the eternal

penitentiary? and if he does, can he be pardoned--can he be released?

It is admitted that man must bear the consequences of his acts. If the

consequences are good, then the acts are good. If the consequences are

bad, the acts are bad. Through experience we find that certain acts tend

to unhappiness and others to happiness.

Now, the only question is whether we have wisdom enough to live in

harmony with our conditions here; and if we fail here, will we have an

opportunity of reforming in another world? If not, then the few years

that we live here determine whether we shall be angels or devils

forever.

It seems to me, if there be another life, that in that life men may do

good, and men may do evil; and if they may do good it seems to me that

they may reform.

I do not see why God, if there be one, should lose all interest in his

children, simply because they leave this world and go where he is. Is

it possible that an infinite God does all for his children here, in this

poor ignorant world, that it is possible for him to do, and that if he

fails to reform them here, nothing is left to do except to make them

eternal convicts?

The Rev. Mr. Haldeman mistakes my position. I do not admit that "an

infinite God, as revealed in Nature, has allowed men to grow up

under conditions which no ordinary mortal can look at in all their

concentrated agony and not break his heart."

I do not confess that God reveals himself in Nature as an infinite God,

without mercy. I do not admit that there is an infinite Being anywhere

responsible for the agonies and tears, for the barbarities and horrors

of this life. I cannot believe that there is in the universe a Being

with power to prevent these things. I hold no God responsible. I

attribute neither cruelty nor mercy to Nature. Nature neither weeps

nor rejoices. I cannot believe that this world, as it now is, as it has

been, was created by an infinitely wise, powerful, and benevolent

God. But it is far better that we should all go down "with souls

unsatisfied" to the dreamless grave, to the tongueless silence of the

voiceless dust, than that countless millions of human souls should

suffer forever.

Eternal sleep is better than eternal pain. Eternal punishment is eternal

revenge, and can be inflicted only by an eternal monster.

Mr. George A. Locey endeavors to put his case in an extremely small

compass, and satisfies himself with really one question, and that is:

"If a man in good health is stricken with disease, is assured that a

physician can cure him, but refuses to take the medicine and dies, ought

there to be any escape?"

He concludes that the physician has done his duty; that the patient was

obdurate and suffered the penalty.

The application he makes is this:

"The Christian's 'tidings of great joy' is the message that the Great

Physician tendered freely. Its acceptance is a cure certain, and a

life of eternal happiness the reward. If the soul accepts, are they not

tidings of great joy; and if the soul rejects, is it not unreasonable on

the part of Colonel Ingersoll to try and sneak out and throw the blame

on God?"

The answer to this seems easy. The cases are not parallel. If an

infinite God created us all, he knew exactly what we would do. If he

gave us free will it does not change the result, because he knew how we

would use the free will.

Now, if he knew that billions upon billions would refuse to take the

remedy, and consequently would suffer eternal pain, why create them?

There would have been much less misery in the world had he left them

dust.

What right has a God to make a failure? Why should he change dust into

a sentient being, knowing that that being was to be the heir of endless

agony?

If the supposed physician had created the patient who refused to take

the medicine, and had so created him that he knew he would refuse to

take it, the cases might be parallel.

According to the orthodox creed, millions are to be damned who never

heard of the medicine or of the "Great Physician."

There is one thing said by the Rev. Mr. Talmage that I hardly think

he could have intended. Possibly there has been a misprint. It is the

following paragraph:

"Who" (speaking of Jesus) "has such an eye to our need; such a lip to

kiss away our sorrow; such a hand to snatch us out of the fire; _such

a foot to trample our enemies_; such a heart to embrace all our

necessities?"

What does the reverend gentleman mean by "_such a foot to trample our

enemies_"?

This, to me, is a terrible line. But it is in accordance with the

history of the church. In the name of its founder it has "trampled on

its enemies," and beneath its cruel feet have perished the noblest of

the world.

The Rev. J. Benson Hamilton, of Brooklyn, comes into this discussion

with a great deal of heat and considerable fury. He states that

"Infidelity is the creed of prosperity, but when sickness or trouble or

sorrow comes he" (meaning the infidel) "does not paw nor mock nor cry

'Ha! ha!' He sneaks and cringes like a whipped cur, and trembles and

whines and howls."

The spirit of Mr. Hamilton is not altogether admirable. He seems to

think that a man establishes the truth of his religion by being brave,

or demonstrates its falsity by trembling in the presence of death.

Thousands of people have died for false religions and in honor of false

gods. Their heroism did not prove the truth of the religion, but it did

prove the sincerity of their convictions.

A great many murderers have been hanged who exhibited on the scaffold

the utmost contempt of death; and yet this courage exhibited by dying

murderers has never been appealed to in justification of murder.

The reverend gentleman tells again the story of the agonies endured by

Thomas Paine when dying; tells us that he then said that he wished his

work had been thrown into the fire, and that if the devil ever had any

agency in any work he had in the writing of that book (meaning "The Age

of Reason,") and that he frequently asked the Lord Jesus to have mercy

upon him.

Of course there is not a word of truth in this story. Its falsity has

been demonstrated thousands and thousands of times, and yet ministers of

the Gospel go right on repeating it just the same.

So this gentleman tells us that Voltaire was accustomed to close his

letters with the words, "Crush the wretch!" (meaning Christ). This is

not so. He referred to superstition, to religion, not to Christ.

This gentleman also says that "Voltaire was the prey of anguish and

dread, alternately supplicating and blaspheming God; that he complained

that he was abandoned by God; that when he died his friends fled from

the room, declaring the sight too terrible to be endured."

There is not one word of truth in this. Everybody who has read the life

of Voltaire knows that he died with the utmost serenity.

Let me tell you how Voltaire died.

He was an old man of eighty-four. He had been surrounded by the comforts

of life. He was a man of wealth--of genius. Among the literary men of

the world he stood first. God had allowed him to have the appearance of

success. His last years were filled with the intoxication of flattery.

He stood at the summit of his age. The priests became anxious. They

began to fear that God would forget, in a multiplicity of business, to

make a terrible example of Voltaire.

Toward the last of May, 1788, it was whispered in Paris that Voltaire

was dying. Upon the fences of expectation gathered the unclean birds of

superstition, impatiently waiting for their prey.

"Two days before his death his nephew went to seek the Cure of St.

Sulpice and the Abbe Gautier, and brought them into his uncle's

sick-chamber, who was informed that they were there.

"'Ah, well,' said Voltaire; 'give them my compliments and my thanks.'

"The abbe spoke some words to Voltaire, exhorting him to patience. The

Cure of St. Sulpice then came forward, having announced himself, and

asked Voltaire, lifting his voice, if he acknowledged the divinity of

our Lord Jesus Christ. The sick man pushed one of his hands against the

cure's coif shoving him back, and cried, turning abruptly to the other

side:

"'Let me die in peace!'

"The cure seemingly considered his person soiled and his coif dishonored

by the touch of the philosopher. He made the nurse give him a little

brushing and went out with the Abbe Gautier.

"He expired," says Wagniere, "on the 30th of May, 1788, at about a

quarter past eleven at night, with the most perfect tranquillity.

"Ten minutes before his last breath he took the hand of Morand, his

_valet-de-chambre_, who was watching by him, pressed it and said:

'Adieu, my dear Morand. I am gone!'

"These were his last words."

From this death, so simple and serene, so natural and peaceful--from

these words so utterly destitute of cant or dramatic touch--all the

frightful pictures, all the despairing utterances have been drawn and

made. From these materials, and from these alone, have been constructed

all the shameless calumnies about the death of this great and wonderful

man.

Voltaire was the intellectual autocrat of his time. From his throne at

the foot of the Alps he pointed the finger of scorn at every hypocrite

in Europe. He was the pioneer of his century. He was the assassin

of superstition. Through the shadows of faith and fable; through the

darkness of myth and miracle; through the midnight of Christianity;

through the blackness of bigotry; past cathedral and dungeon; past rack

and stake; past altar and throne, he carried, with chivalric hands, the

sacred torch of Reason.

Let me also tell you about the death of Thomas Paine. After the

publication of his "Rights of Man" and "The Age of Reason", every

falsehood that malignity could coin and malice pass, was given to the

world. On his return to America, although Thomas Jefferson, another

infidel, was President, it was hardly safe for Paine to appear in the

public streets.

Under the very flag he had helped to put in heaven, his rights were not

respected. Under the Constitution that he had first suggested, his life

was insecure. He had helped to give liberty to more than three millions

of his fellow-citizens, and they were willing to deny it unto him.

He was deserted, ostracized, shunned, maligned and cursed. But he

maintained his integrity. He stood by the convictions of his mind, and

never for one moment did he hesitate or waver. He died almost alone.

The moment he died the pious commenced manufacturing horrors for his

death-bed. They had his chamber filled with devils rattling chains,

and these ancient falsehoods are certified to by the clergy even of the

present day.

The truth is that Thomas Paine died as he had lived. Some ministers

were impolite enough to visit him against his will. Several of them he

ordered from his room. A couple of Catholic priests, in all the meekness

of arrogance, called that they might enjoy the agonies of the dying

friend of man. Thomas Paine, rising in his bed, the few moments of

expiring life fanned into flame by the breath of indignation, had the

goodness to curse them both.

His physician, who seems to have been a meddling fool, just as the cold

hand of Death was touching the patriot's heart, whispered in the dulled

ear of the dying man: "Do you believe, or do you wish to believe, that

Jesus Christ is the Son of God?"