Books: Lectures Of Col. R. G. Ingersoll, Vol. I

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The truth is, it is impossible to harmonize all the ills, and pains, and
agonies of this world with the idea that we were created by, and are
watched over and protected by an infinitely wise, powerful and
beneficent God, who is superior to and independent of nature.

The clergy, however, balance all the real ills of this life with the
expected joys of the next. We are assured that all is perfection in
heaven--there the skies are cloudless--there all is serenity and peace.
Here empires may be overthrown; dynasties may be extinguished in blood;
millions of slaves may toil 'neath the fierce rays of the sun, and the
cruel strokes of the lash; yet all is happiness in heaven. Pestilence
may strew the earth with corpses of the loved; the survivors may bend
above them in agony--yet the placid bosom of heaven is unruffled.
Children may expire vainly asking for bread; babies may be devoured by
serpents, while the gods sit smiling in the clouds. The innocent may
languish unto death in the obscurity of dungeons; brave men and heroic
women may be changed to ashes at the bigot's stake, while heaven is
filled with song and joy. Out on the wide sea, in darkness and in storm,
the shipwrecked struggle with the cruel waves, while the angels play
upon their golden harps. The streets of the world are filled with the
diseased, the deformed and the helpless; the chambers of pain are
crowded with the pale forms of the suffering, while the angels float and
fly in the happy realms of day. In heaven they are too happy to have
sympathy; too busy singing to aid the imploring and distressed. Their
eyes are blinded; their ears are stopped and their hearts are turned to
stone by the infinite selfishness of joy. The saved mariner is too
happy when he touches the shore to give a moment's thought to his
drowning brothers. With the indifference of happiness, with the
contempt of bliss, heaven barely glances at the miseries of earth.
Cities are devoured by the rushing lava; the earth opens and thousands
perish; women raise their clasped hands towards heaven, but the gods
are too happy to aid their children. The smiles of the deities are
unacquainted with the tears of men. The shouts of heaven drown the sobs
of earth.

Having shown how man created gods, and how he became the trembling slave
of his own creation, the questions naturally arise: How did he free
himself even a little, from these monarchs of the sky, from these
despots of the clouds, from this aristocracy of the air? How did he,
even to the extent that he has, outgrow his ignorant, abject terror, and
throw off, the yoke of superstition?

Probably, the first thing that tended to disabuse his mind was the
discovery of order, of regularity, of periodicity in the universe. From
this he began to suspect that everything did not happen purely with
reference to him. He noticed, that whatever he might do, the motions of
the planets were always the same; that eclipses were periodical, and
that even comets came at certain intervals. This convinced him that
eclipses and comets had nothing to do with him, and that his conduct had
nothing to do with them. He perceived that they were not caused for his
benefit or injury. He thus learned to regard them with admiration
instead of fear. He began to suspect that famine was not sent by some
enraged and revengeful deity but resulted often from the neglect and
ignorance of man. He learned that diseases were not produced by evil
spirits. He found that sickness was occasioned by natural causes, and
would be cured by natural means. He demonstrated, to his own
satisfaction at least, that prayer is not a medicine. He found by sad
experience that his gods were of no practical use, as they never
assisted him, except when he was perfectly able to help himself. At
last, he began to discover that his individual action had nothing
whatever to do with strange appearances in the heavens; that it was
impossible for him to be bad enough to cause a whirlwind, or good enough
to stop one. After many centuries of thought, he about half concluded
that making mouths at a priest would not necessarily cause an
earthquake. He noticed, and no doubt with considerable astonishment,
that very good men were occasionally struck by lightning, while very bad
ones escaped. He was frequently forced to the painful conclusion (and
it is the most painful to which any human being ever was forced) that
the right did not always prevail. He noticed that the gods did not
interfere in behalf of the weak and innocent. He was now and then
astonished by seeing an unbeliever in the enjoyment of most excellent
health. He finally ascertained that there could be no possible
connection between an unusually severe winter and his failure to give
sheep to a priest. He began to suspect that the order of the universe
was not constantly being changed to assist him because he repeated a
creed. He observed that some children would steal after having been
regularly baptized. He noticed a vast difference between religions and
justice, and that the worshipers of the same God took delight in cutting
each other's throats. He saw that these religious disputes filled the
world with hatred and slavery. At last be had the courage to suspect,
that no God at any time interferes with the order of events. He learned
a few facts, and these facts positively refused to harmonize with the
ignorant superstitions of his fathers. Finding his sacred books
incorrect and false in some particulars, his faith in their authenticity
began to be shaken; finding his priests ignorant on some points, he
began to lose respect for the cloth. This was the commencement of
intellectual freedom.

The civilization of man has increased just to the same extent that
religious power has decreased. The intellectual advancement of man
depends upon how often he can exchange an old superstition for a new
truth. The Church never enabled a human being to make even one of these
exchanges; on the contrary, all her power has been used to prevent
them. In spite, however, of the Church, man found that some of his
religious conceptions were wrong. By reading his bible, he found that
the ideas of his God were more cruel and brutal than those of the most
depraved savage. He also discovered that this holy book was filled with
ignorance, and that it must have been written by persons wholly
unacquainted with the nature of the phenomena by which we are
surrounded; and now and then, some man had the goodness and courage to
speak his honest thoughts. In every age some thinker, some doubter,
some investigator, some hater of hypocrisy, some despiser of sham, some
brave lover of the right, has gladly, proudly and heroically braved the
ignorant fury of superstition for the sake of man and truth. These
divine men were generally torn in pieces by the worshipers of the gods.
Socrates was poisoned because he lacked reverence for some of the
deities. Christ was crucified by the religious rabble for the crime of
blasphemy. Nothing is more gratifying to a religionist than to destroy
his enemies at the command of God. Religious persecution springs from a
due admixture of love towards God and hatred towards man.

The terrible religious wars that inundated the world with blood tended
at least to bring all religion into disgrace and hatred. Thoughtful
people began to question the divine origin of a religion that made its
believers hold the rights of others in absolute contempt. A few began
to compare Christianity with the religions of heathen people, and were
forced to admit that the difference was hardly worth dying for. They
also found that other nations were even happier and more prosperous than
their own. They began to suspect, that their religion, after all, was
not of much real value.

For three hundred years the Christian world endeavored to rescue from
the "Infidel" the empty sepulchre of Christ. For three hundred years
the armies of the cross were baffled and beaten by the victorious hosts
of an impudent impostor. This immense fact sowed the seeds of distrust
throughout all Christendom, and millions began to lose confidence in a
God who had been vanquished by Mohammed. The people also found that
commerce made friends where religion made enemies, and that religious
zeal was utterly incompatible with peace between nations or individuals.
The discovered that those who loved the gods most were apt to love men
least; that the arrogance of universal forgiveness was amazing; that
the most malicious had the effrontery to pray for their enemies, and
that humility and tyranny were the fruit of the same tree.

For ages, a deadly conflict has been waged between a few brave men and
women of thought and genius upon the one side, and the great ignorant
religious mass on the other. This is the war between Science and Faith.
The few have appealed to reason, to honor, to law, to freedom, to the
known, and to happiness here in this world. The many have appealed to
prejudice, to fear, to miracle, to slavery, to the unknown, and to
misery hereafter. The few have said, "Think!" The many have said,
"Believe!"

The first doubt was the womb and cradle of progress, and from the first
doubt, man has continued to advance. Men began to investigate, and the
church began to oppose. The astronomer scanned the heavens, while the
church branded his grand forehead with the word, "Infidel"; and now, not
a glittering star in all the vast expanse bears a Christian name. In
spite of all religion, the geologist penetrated the earth, read her
history in books of stone, and found hidden within her bosom, souvenirs
of all the ages. Old ideas perished in the retort of the chemist,
useful truths took their places. One by one religious conceptions have
been placed in the crucible of science, and thus far, nothing but dross
has been found. A new world has been discovered by the microscope;
everywhere has been found the infinite; in every direction man has
investigated and explored, and nowhere, in earth or stars, has been
found the footstep of any being superior to or independent of nature.
Nowhere has been discovered the slightest evidence of any interference
from without. These are the sublime truths that enable man to throw off
the yoke of superstition. These are the splendid facts that snatched
the sceptre of authority from the hands of priests.

In the vast cemetery called the past are most of the religions of men,
and there, too, are nearly all their gods. The sacred temples of India
were ruins long ago. Over column and cornice; over the painted and
pictured walls, cling and creep the trailing vines. Brahma, the golden,
with four heads and four arms; Vishnu, the sombre, the punisher of the
wicked, with his three eyes, his crescent, and his necklace of skulls;
Siva, the destroyer, red with seas of blood; Kali, the goddess;
Draupadi, the white-armed, and Chrishna, the Christ, all passed away and
left the thrones of heaven desolate. Along the banks of the sacred
Nile, Isis no longer wandering weeps, searching for the dead Osiris.
The shadow of Typhon's scowl falls no more upon the waves. The sun
rises as of yore, and his golden beams still smite the lips of Memnon,
but Memnon is as voiceless as the Sphinx. The sacred fanes are lost in
desert sands; the dusty mummies are still waiting for the resurrection
promised by their priests, and the old beliefs, wrought in curiously
sculptured stone, sleep in the mystery of a language lost and dead.
Odin, the author of life and soul, Vili and Ve, and the mighty giant
Ymir, strode long ago from the icy halls of the North; and Thor, with
iron glove and glittering hammer, dashes mountains to the earth no more.
Broken are the circles and cromlechs of the ancient Druids; fallen upon
the summits of the hills, and covered with the centuries' moss, are the
sacred cairns. The divine fires of Persia and of the Aztecs, have died
out in the ashes of the past, and there is none to rekindle, and none to
feed the holy flames. The harp of Orpheus is still; the drained cup of
Bacchus has been thrown aside; Venus lies dead in stone, and her white
bosom heaves no more with love. The streams still murmur, but no naiads
bathe; the trees still wave, but in the forest aisles no dryads dance.
The gods have flown from high Olympus. Not even the beautiful women can
lure them back, and Danee lies unnoticed, naked to the stars. Hushed
forever are the thunders of Sinai; lost are the voices of the prophets,
and the land once flowing with milk and honey is but a desert and waste.

One by one, the myths have faded from the clouds; one by one, the
phantom host has disappeared, and one by one facts, truths and realities
have taken their places. The supernatural has almost gone, but the
natural remains. The gods have fled, but man is here.

Nations, like individuals, have their periods of youth, of manhood and
decay. Religions are the same. The same inexorable destiny awaits them
all. The gods created by the nations must perish with their creators.
They were created by men, and like men, they must pass away. The
deities of one age are the by-words of the next. The religion of one day
and country, is no more exempt from the sneer of the future than others
have been. When India was supreme, Brahma sat upon the world's throne.
When the scepter passed to Egypt, Isis and Osiris received the homage of
mankind. Greece, with her fierce valor, swept to empire, and Zeus put
on the purple of authority. The earth trembled with the tread of Rome's
intrepid sons, and Jove grasped with mailed hand the thunderbolts of
heaven. Rome fell, and Christians from her territory, with the red sword
of war, carved out the ruling nations of the world, and now Christ sits
upon the old throne. Who will be his successor?

Day by day, religious conceptions grow less and less intense. Day by
day, the old spirit dies out of book and creed. The burning enthusiasm,
the quenchless zeal of the early church have gone, never, never to
return. The ceremonies remain, but the ancient faith is fading out of
the human heart. The worn out arguments fail to convince, and
denunciations that once blanched the faces of a race, excite in us only
derision and disgust. As time rolls on, the miracles grow mean and
small, and the evidences our fathers thought conclusive utterly fail to
satisfy us. There is an "irrepressible conflict" between religion and
science, and they cannot peaceably occupy the same brain nor the same
world.

While utterly discarding all creeds, and denying the truth of all
religions, there is neither in my heart nor upon my lips a sneer for the
hopeful, loving and tender souls who believe that from all this discord
will result a perfect harmony; that every evil will in some mysterious
way become a good, and that above and over all there is a being who, in
some way, will reclaim and glorify everyone of the children of men; but
for those who heartlessly try to prove that salvation is almost
impossible; that damnation is almost certain; that the highway of the
universe leads to hell; who fill life with fear and death with horror;
who curse the cradle and mock the tomb, it is impossible to entertain
other than feelings of pity, contempt and scorn.

Reason, Observation and Experience--the Holy Trinity of Science--have
taught us that happiness is the only good; that the time to be happy is
now, and the way to be happy is to make others so. This is enough for
us. In this belief we are content to live and die. If by any
possibility the existence of a power superior to, and independent of,
nature shall be demonstrated, there will then be time enough to kneel.
Until then, let us stand erect.

Notwithstanding the fact that infidels in all ages have battled for the
rights of man, and have at all times been the fearless advocates of
liberty and justice, we are constantly charged by the Church with
tearing down without building again. The Church should by this time
know that it is utterly impossible to rob men of their opinions. The
history of religious persecutions fully establishes the fact that the
mind necessarily resists and defies every attempt to control it by
violence. The mind necessarily clings to old ideas until prepared for
the new. The moment we comprehend the truth, all erroneous ideas are of
necessity cast aside.

A surgeon once called upon a poor cripple and kindly offered to render
him any assistance in his power. The surgeon began to discourse very
learnedly upon the nature and origin of disease; of the curative
properties of certain medicines; of the advantages of exercise, air and
light, and of the various ways in which health and strength could be
restored. These remarks were so full of good sense, and discovered so
much profound thought and accurate knowledge, that the cripple, becoming
thoroughly alarmed, cried out, "Do not, I pray you, take away my
crutches. They are my only support, and without them, I should be
miserable, indeed." "I am not going," said the surgeon, "to take away
your crutches. I am going to cure you, and then you will throw the
crutches away yourself."

For the vagaries of the clouds, the infidels propose to substitute the
realities of the earth; for superstition, the splendid demonstrations
and achievements of science; and for the theological tyranny, the
chainless liberty of thought.

We do not say we have discovered all; that our doctrines are the all in
all in truth. We know of no end to the development of man. We cannot
unravel the infinite complications of matter and force. The history of
one monad is as unknown as that of the universe; one drop of water is as
wonderful as all the seas; one leaf, as all the forests; and one grain
of sand, as all the stars.

We are not endeavoring to chain the future, but to free the present. We
are not forgoing fetters for our children, but we are breaking those our
fathers made for us. We are the advocates of inquiry, of investigation
and thought. This of itself, is an admission that we are not perfectly
satisfied with all our conclusions. Philosophy has not the egotism of
faith. While superstition builds walls and creates obstructions,
science opens all the highways of thought. We do not pretend to have
circumnavigated everything, and to have solved all difficulties, but we
do believe that it is better to love men than to fear gods, that it is
grander and nobler to think and investigate for yourself than to repeat
a creed. We are satisfied that there can be but little liberty on earth
while men worship a tyrant in heaven. We do not expect to accomplish
everything in our day; but we want to do what good we can, and to
render all the service possible in the holy cause of human progress. We
know that doing away with gods and supernatural persons and powers is
not an end. It is a means to an end; the real end being the happiness
of man.

Felling forests is not the end of agriculture. Driving pirates from the
sea is not all there is of commerce.

We are laying the foundations of a grand temple of the future--not the
temple of all the gods, but of all the people--wherein, with appropriate
rites, will be celebrated the religion of Humanity. We are doing what
little we can to hasten the coming of the day when society shall cease
producing millionaires and mendicants--gorged indolence and famished
industry--truth in rags, and superstition robed and crowned. We are
looking for the time when the useful shall be the honorable; and when
REASON, throned upon the world's brain, shall be the King of Kings, and
God of Gods.

INGERSOLL'S LECTURE ON GHOSTS.

Ladies and Gentlemen: In the first place, allow me to tender my sincere
thanks to the clergy of this city. I feel that I am greatly indebted to
them for this magnificent audience. It has been said, and I believe it
myself, that there is a vast amount of intolerance in the church of
today, but when twenty-four clergymen, three of whom, I believe, are
bishops, act as my advance agents, without expecting any remuneration,
or reward in this world, I must admit that perhaps I was mistaken on the
question of intolerance. And I will say, further, that against those
men I have not the slightest feeling in the world; every man is the
product of his own surroundings; he is the product of every
circumstance that has ever touched him; he is the product to a certain
degree of the religion and creed of his day, and when men show the
slightest intolerance I blame the creed, I blame the religion, I blame
the superstition that forced them to do so. I do not blame those men.

Allow me to say, further, that this world is not, in my judgment, yet
perfect. I am doing, in a very feeble way, to be sure, but I am still
endeavoring, according to my Idea, to make this world just a little
better; to give a little more liberty to men, a little more liberty to
women. I believe in the government of kindness; I believe in truth, in
investigation, in free thought. I do not believe that the hand of want
will be eternally extended in the world; I do not believe that the
prison will forever scar the ground; I do not believe that the shadow
of the gallows will forever curse the earth; I do not believe that it
will always be true that the men who do the most work will have the
least to wear and the least to eat. I do believe that the time will
come when liberty and morality and justice, like the rings of Saturn,
will surround the world; that the world will be better, and every true
man and every free man will do what he can to hasten the coming of the
religion of human advancement.

I understand that for the thousands and thousands of years that have
gone by, all questions have been settled by religion. I understand that
during all this time the people have gotten their information from the
sacerdotal class--from priests. I know that when India was supreme they
worshipped Brahma and Vishnu, and that when Rome held in its hand the
red sword of war they worshipped Jove, and I know now that our religion
has swept to the top. Any man living in India a few hundred or thousand
years ago would have said, this is the only true religion. Why?
Because here is the only true civilization. A man afterward living in
Egypt would have said, this is the only true religion, because we have
the best civilization; a Greek in Athens would have said this is the only
true religion, and a Roman would have said we have the true religion,
and now those religions all having died, although they were all true
religions, we say ours is the only religion, because we are the greatest
commercial nation in the world.

There will come other nations; there will come other religions. Man has
made every religion in this world, in my judgment, and the religion, has
been good or bad according as the men who made it were good or bad. If
they were savages and barbarians, they made a God like the Jehovah of
the Jews; if they were civilized, if they were kind and tender, they
filled the heavens with kindness and love. Every man makes his own God.
Show me the God a man worships, and I will tell you what kind of a man
he is. Every one makes his own God, every one worships his own God; and
if you are a civilized man you will have a civilized God, and we have
been civilizing ours for hundreds and hundreds of years. He is getting
better every day.

I am going to tell you tonight just exactly what I think. The other
lecture I delivered here was my conservative lecture; this is my
radical one! We even hear it suggested that our religion, our Bible,
has given us all we have of prosperity and greatness and grandeur. I
deny it! We have become civilized in spite of it, and I will show you
tonight that the obstruction that every science has had is what we have
been pleased to call our religion--or superstition. I had a
conversation with a gentleman once--and these gentlemen are always
mistaking something that goes along with a thing for the cause of the
thing--and he stated to me that his particular religion was the cause of
all advancement. I said to him: "No, Sir; the causes of all
advancement, in my judgment, are plug hats and suspenders." And I said
to him: "You go to Turkey, where they are semi-barbarians, and you
won't find a pair of suspenders or a plug hat in all that country; you
go to Russia, and you will find now and then a pair of suspenders at
Moscow or St. Petersburg; you go on down till you strike Austria, and
black hats begin; then you go on to Paris, Berlin and New York, and you
will find everybody wears suspenders and everybody wears black hats.
Wherever you find education and music there you will find black hats and
suspenders." He said that any man who said to him that plug hats and
suspenders had done more for mankind than the Bible and religion he
would not talk to.

As a matter of fact, we are controlled today by men who do not exist. We
are controlled today by phenomena that never did exist. We are
controlled by ghosts and dead men, and in the grasp of death is a
scepter that controls the living present. I propose that we shall
govern ourselves! I propose that we shall let the past go, and let the
dead past bury the dead past. I believe the American people have brains
enough, and nerve enough, and courage enough, to control and govern
themselves, without any assistance from dust or ghosts. That is my
doctrine, and I am going to do what I can while I live to increase that
feeling of independence and manhood in the American people.--We can
control ourselves. I believe in the gospel of this world; I believe in
happiness right here; I do not believe in drinking skim milk all my
life with the expectation of butter beyond the clouds. I believe in the
gospel, I say, in this world. This is a mighty good world. There are
plenty of good people in this world. There is lots of happiness in this
world and, I say, let us, in every way we can, increase it. I envy
every man who is content with his lot, whether he is poor or whether he
is rich. I tell you, the man that tries to make somebody else happy,
and who owns his own soul, nobody having a mortgage or deed of trust
upon his manhood or liberty--this world is a pretty good world for such
a man. I do not care: I am going to say my say, whether I make money
or grow poor; no matter whether I get high office or walk along the
dusty highway of the common. I am going to say my say, and I had rather
be a farmer and live on forty acres of land--live in a log cabin that I
built myself, and have a little grassy path going down to the spring, so
that I can go there and hear the waters gurgling, and know that it is
coming out from the lips of the earth, like a poem, whispering to the
white pebbles--I would rather live there, and have some hollyhocks at
the corner of the house, and the larks singing and swinging in the
trees, and some lattice over the window, so that the sunlight can fall
checkered on the babe in the cradle. I had rather live there, and have
the freedom of my own brain; I had rather do that than live in a palace
of gold, and crawl, a slimy hypocrite, through this world. Superstition
has done enough harm already; every religion, nearly, suspects
everything that is pleasant, everything that is joyous, and they always
have a notion that God feels best when we feel worst. They have chained
the Andromeda of joy to the cold rock of ignorance and fear, there to be
devoured by the dragon of superstition. Church and State are two
vultures that have fed upon the heart of chained Prometheus. I say, let
the human race have a chance let every man think for himself and express
that thought. There is no wrath in the serene heavens; there is no
scowl in the blue of the sky. Upon the throne of the universe tyranny
does not sit as a king.

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