Question. What do you think of the prospects of Liberalism in this country?
Answer. The prospects of Liberalism are precisely the same as the prospects of civilization—that is to say, of progress. As the people become educated, they become liberal. Bigotry is the provincialism of the mind. Men are bigoted who are not acquainted with the thoughts of others. They have been taught one thing, and have been made to believe that their little mental horizon is the circumference of all knowledge. The bigot lives in an ignorant village, surrounded by ignorant neighbors. This is the honest bigot. The dishonest bigot may know better, but he remains a bigot because his salary depends upon it. A bigot is like a country that has had no commerce with any other. He imagines that in his little head there is everything of value. When a man becomes an intellectual explorer, an intellectual traveler, he begins to widen, to grow liberal. He finds that the ideas of others are as good as and often better than his own. The habits and customs of other people throw light on his own, and by this light he is enabled to discover at least some of his own mistakes. Now the world has become acquainted. A few years ago, a man knew something of the doctrines of his own church. Now he knows the creeds of others, and not only so, but he has examined to some extent the religions of other nations. He finds in other creeds all the excellencies that are in his own, and most of the mistakes. In this way he learns that all creeds have been produced by men, and that their differences have been accounted for by race, climate, heredity—that is to say, by a difference in circumstances. So we now know that the cause of Liberalism is the cause of civilization. Unless the race is to be a failure, the cause of Liberalism must succeed. Consequently, I have the same faith in that cause that I have in the human race.
Question. Where are the most Liberals, and in what section of the country is the best work for Liberalism being done?
Answer. The most Liberals are in the most intelligent section of the United States. Where people think the most, there you will find the most Liberals; where people think the least, you will find the most bigots. Bigotry is produced by feeling—Liberalism by thinking—that is to say, the one is a prejudice, the other a principle. Every geologist, every astronomer, every scientist, is doing a noble work for Liberalism. Every man who finds a fact, and demonstrates it, is doing work for the cause. All the literature of our time that is worth reading is on the liberal side. All the fiction that really interests the human mind is with us. No one cares to read the old theological works. Essays written by professors of theological colleges are regarded, even by Christians, with a kind of charitable contempt. When any demonstration of science is attacked by a creed, or a passage of Scripture, all the intelligent smile. For these reasons I think that the best work for Liberalism is being done where the best work for science is being done—where the best work for man is being accomplished. Every legislator that assists in the repeal of theological laws is doing a great work for Liberalism.
Question. In your opinion, what relation do Liberalism and Prohibition bear to each other?
Answer. I do not think they have anything to do with each other. They have nothing in common except this: The Prohibitionists, I presume, are endeavoring to do what they can for temperance; so all intelligent Liberals are doing what they can for the cause of temperance. The Prohibitionist endeavors to accomplish his object by legislation—the Liberalist by education, by civilization, by example, by persuasion. The method of the Liberalist is good, that of the Prohibitionist chimerical and fanatical.
Question. Do you think that Liberals should undertake a reform in the marriage and divorce laws and relations?
Answer. I think that Liberals should do all in their power to induce people to regard marriage and divorce in a sensible light, and without the slightest reference to any theological ideas. They should use their influence to the end that marriage shall be considered as a contract—the highest and holiest that men and women can make. And they should also use their influence to have the laws of divorce based on this fundamental idea,—that marriage is a contract. All should be done that can be done by law to uphold the sacredness of this relation. All should be done that can be done to impress upon the minds of all men and all women their duty to discharge all the obligations of the marriage contract faithfully and cheerfully. I do not believe that it is to the interest of the State or of the Nation, that people should be compelled to live together who hate each other, or that a woman should be bound to a man who has been false and who refuses to fulfill the contract of marriage. I do not believe that any man should call upon the police, or upon the creeds, or upon the church, to compel his wife to remain under his roof, or to compel a woman against her will to become the mother of his children. In other words, Liberals should endeavor to civilize mankind, and when men and women are civilized, the marriage question, and the divorce question, will be settled.
Question. Should Liberals vote on Liberal issues?
Answer. I think that, other things being anywhere near equal, Liberals should vote for men who believe in liberty, men who believe in giving to others the rights they claim for themselves—that is to say, for civilized men, for men of some breadth of mind. Liberals should do what they can to do away with all the theological absurdities.
Question. Can, or ought, the Liberals and Spiritualists to unite?
Answer. All people should unite where they have objects in common. They can vote together, and act together, without believing the same on all points. A Liberal is not necessarily a Spiritualist, and a Spiritualist is not necessarily a Liberal. If Spiritualists wish to liberalize the Government, certainly Liberals would be glad of their assistance, and if Spiritualists take any step in the direction of freedom, the Liberals should stand by them to that extent.
Question. Which is the more dangerous to American institutions —the National Reform Association (God-in-the-Constitution party) or the Roman Catholic Church?
Answer. The Association and the Catholic Church are dangerous according to their power. The Catholic Church has far more power than the Reform Association, and is consequently far more dangerous. The God-in-the-Constitution association is weak, fanatical, stupid, and absurd. What God are we to have in the Constitution? Whose God? If we should agree to-morrow to put God in the Constitution, the question would then be: Which God? On that question, the religious world would fall out. In that direction there is no danger. But the Roman Catholic Church is the enemy of intellectual liberty. It is the enemy of investigation. It is the enemy of free schools. That church always has been, always will be, the enemy of freedom. It works in the dark. When in a minority it is humility itself—when in power it is the impersonation of arrogance. In weakness it crawls—in power it stands erect, and compels its victims to fall upon their faces. The most dangerous institution in this world, so far as the intellectual liberty of man is concerned, is the Roman Catholic Church. Next to that is the Protestant Church.
Question. What is your opinion of the Christian religion and the Christian Church?
Answer. My opinion upon this subject is certainly well known. The Christian Church is founded upon miracles—that is to say, upon impossibilities. Of course, there is a great deal that is good in the creeds of the churches, and in the sermons delivered by its ministers; but mixed with this good is much that is evil. My principal objection to orthodox religion is the dogma of eternal pain. Nothing can be more infamously absurd. All civilized men should denounce it—all women should regard it with a kind of shuddering abhorrence.
—Secular Thought, Toronto, Canada, 1888.
Question. Do you agree with the views of Pope Leo XIII. as expressed inThe Heraldof last week?
Answer. I am not personally acquainted with Leo XIII., but I have not the slightest idea that he loves Americans or their country. I regard him as an enemy of intellectual liberty. He tells us that where the church is free it will increase, and I say to him that where others are free it will not. The Catholic Church has increased in this country by immigration and in no other way. Possibly the Pope is willing to use his power for the good of the whole people, Protestants and Catholics, and to increase their prosperity and happiness, because by this he means that he will use his power to make Catholics out of Protestants.
It is impossible for the Catholic Church to be in favor of mental freedom. That church represents absolute authority. Its members have no right to reason—no right to ask questions—they are called upon simply to believe and to pay their subscriptions.
Question. Do you agree with the Pope when he says that the result of efforts which have been made to throw aside Christianity and live without it can be seen in the present condition of society— discontent, disorder, hatred and profound unhappiness?
Answer. Undoubtedly the people of Europe who wish to be free are discontented. Undoubtedly these efforts to have something like justice done will bring disorder. Those in power will hate those who are endeavoring to drive them from their thrones. If the people now, as formerly, would bear all burdens cheerfully placed upon their shoulders by church and state—that is to say, if they were so enslaved mentally that they would not even have sense enough to complain, then there would be what the Pope might call "peace and happiness"—that is to say, the peace of ignorance, and the happiness of those who are expecting pay in another world for their agonies endured in this.
Of course, the revolutionaries of Europe are not satisfied with the Catholic religion; neither are they satisfied with the Protestant. Both of these religions rest upon authority. Both discourage reason. Both say "Let him that hath ears to hear, hear," but neither say let him that hath brains to think, think.
Christianity has been thoroughly tried, and it is a failure. Nearly every church has upheld slavery, not only of the body, but of the mind. When Christian missionaries invade what they call a heathen country, they are followed in a little while by merchants and traders, and in a few days afterward by the army. The first real work is to kill the heathen or steal their lands, or else reduce them to something like slavery.
I have no confidence in the reformation of this world by churches. Churches for the most part exist, not for this world, but for another. They are founded upon the supernatural, and they say: "Take no thought for the morrow; put your trust in your Heavenly Father and he will take care of you." On the other hand, science says: "You must take care of yourself, live for the world in which you happen to be—if there is another, live for that when you get there."
Question. What do you think of the plan to better the condition of the workingmen, by committees headed by bishops of the Catholic Church, in discussing their duties?
Answer. If the bishops wish to discuss with anybody about duties they had better discuss with the employers, instead of the employed. This discussion had better take place between the clergy and the capitalist. There is no need of discussing this question with the poor wretches who cannot earn more than enough to keep their souls in their bodies. If the Catholic Church has so much power, and if it represents God on earth, let it turn its attention to softening the hearts of capitalists, and no longer waste its time in preaching patience to the poor slaves who are now bearing the burdens of the world.
Question. Do you agree with the Pope that: "Sound rules of life must be founded on religion"?
Answer. I do not. Sound rules of life must be founded on the experience of mankind. In other words, we must live for this world. Why should men throw away hundreds and thousands of millions of dollars in building cathedrals and churches, and paying the salaries of bishops and priests, and cardinals and popes, and get no possible return for all this money except a few guesses about another world —those guesses being stated as facts—when every pope and priest and bishop knows that no one knows the slightest thing on the subject. Superstition is the greatest burden borne by the industry of the world.
The nations of Europe to-day all pretend to be Christian, yet millions of men are drilled and armed for the purpose of killing other Christians. Each Christian nation is fortified to prevent other Christians from devastating their fields. There is already a debt of about twenty-five thousand millions of dollars which has been incurred by Christian nations, because each one is afraid of every other, and yet all say: "It is our duty to love our enemies."
This world, in my judgment, is to be reformed through intelligence —through development of the mind—not by credulity, but by investigation; not by faith in the supernatural, but by faith in the natural. The church has passed the zenith of her power. The clergy must stand aside. Scientists must take their places.
Question. Do you agree with the Pope in attacking the present governments of Europe and the memories of Mazzini and Saffi?
Answer. I do not. I think Mazzini was of more use to Italy than all the popes that ever occupied the chair of St. Peter—which, by the way, was not his chair. I have a thousand times more regard for Mazzini, for Garibaldi, for Cavour, than I have for any gentleman who pretends to be the representative of God.
There is another objection I have to the Pope, and that is that he was so scandalized when a monument was reared in Rome to the memory of Giordano Bruno. Bruno was murdered about two hundred and sixty years ago by the Catholic Church, and such has been the development of the human brain and heart that on the very spot where he was murdered a monument rises to his memory.
But the vicar of God has remained stationary, and he regards this mark of honor to one of the greatest and noblest of the human race as an act of blasphemy. The poor old man acts as if America had never been discovered—as if the world were still flat—and as if the stars had been made out of little pieces left over from the creation of the world and stuck in the sky simply to beautify the night.
But, after all, I do not blame this Pope. He is the victim of his surroundings. He was never married. His heart was never softened by wife or children. He was born that way, and, to tell you the truth, he has my sincere sympathy. Let him talk about America and stay in Italy.
—The Herald, New York, April 22, 1890.
Answer. I think all days, all times and all seasons are alike sacred. I think the best day in a man's life is the day that he is truly the happiest. Every day in which good is done to humanity is a holy day.
If I were to make a calendar of sacred days, I would put down the days in which the greatest inventions came to the mind of genius; the days when scattered tribes became nations; the days when good laws were passed; the days when bad ones were repealed; the days when kings were dethroned, and the people given their own; in other words, every day in which good has been done; in which men and women have truly fallen in love, days in which babes were born destined to change the civilization of the world. These are all sacred days; days in which men have fought for the right, suffered for the right, died for the right; all days in which there were heroic actions for good. The day when slavery was abolished in the United States is holier than any Sabbath by reason of "divine consecration."
Of course, I care nothing about the sacredness of the Sabbath because it was hallowed in the Old Testament, or because of that day Jehovah is said to have rested from his labors. A space of time cannot be sacred, any more than a vacuum can be sacred, and it is rendered sacred by deeds done in it, and not in and of itself.
If we should finally invent some means of traveling by which we could go a thousand miles a day, a man could escape Sunday all his life by traveling West. He could start Monday, and stay Monday all the time. Or, if he should some time get near the North Pole, he could walk faster than the earth turns and thus beat Sunday all the while.
Question. Should not the museums and art galleries be thrown open to the workingmen free on Sunday?
Answer. Undoubtedly. In all civilized countries this is done, and I believe it would be done in New York, only it is said that money has been given on condition that the museums should be kept closed on Sundays. I have always heard it said that large sums will be withheld by certain old people who have the prospect of dying in the near future if the museums are open on Sunday.
This, however, seems to me a very poor and shallow excuse. Money should not be received under such conditions. One of the curses of our country has been the giving of gifts to colleges on certain conditions. As, for instance, the money given to Andover by the original founder on the condition that a certain creed be taught, and other large amounts have been given on a like condition. Now, the result of this is that the theological professor must teach what these donors have indicated, or go out of the institution; or —and this last "or" is generally the trouble—teach what he does not believe, endeavoring to get around it by giving new meaning to old words.
I think the cause of intellectual progress has been much delayed by these conditions put in the wills of supposed benefactors, so that after they are dead they can rule people who have the habit of being alive. In my opinion, a corpse is a poor ruler, and after a man is dead he should keep quiet.
Of course all that he did will live, and should be allowed to have its natural effect. If he was a great inventor or discoverer, or if he uttered great truths, these became the property of the world; but he should not endeavor, after he is dead, to rule the living by conditions attached to his gifts.
All the museums and libraries should be opened, not only to workingmen, but to all others. If to see great paintings, great statues, wonderful works of art; if to read the thoughts of the greatest men—if these things tend to the civilization of the race, then they should be put as nearly as possible within the reach of all.
The man who works eight or ten or twelve hours a day has not time during the six days of labor to visit libraries or museums. Sunday is his day of leisure, his day of recreation, and on that day he should have the privilege, and he himself should deem it a right to visit all the public libraries and museums, parks and gardens.
In other words, I think the laboring man should have the same rights on Sundays, to say the least of it, that wealthy people have on other days. The man of wealth has leisure. He can attend these places on any day he may desire; but necessity being the master of the poor man, Sunday is his one day for such a purpose. For men of wealth to close the museums and libraries on that day, shows that they have either a mistaken idea as to the well-being of their fellow-men, or that they care nothing about the rights of any except the wealthy.
Personally, I have no sort of patience with the theological snivel and drivel about the sacredness of the Sabbath. I do not understand why they do not accept the words of their own Christ, namely, that "the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath."
The hypocrites of Judea were great sticklers for the Sabbath, and the orthodox Christians of New York are exactly the same. My own opinion is that a man who has been at work all the week, in the dust and heat, can hardly afford to waste his Sunday in hearing an orthodox sermon—a sermon that gives him the cheerful intelligence that his chances for being damned are largely in the majority. I think it is far better for the workingman to go out with his family in the park, into the woods, to some German garden, where he can hear the music of Wagner, or even the waltzes of Strauss, or to take a boat and go down to the shore of the sea. I think than in summer a few waves of the ocean are far more refreshing then all the orthodox sermons of the world.
As a matter of fact, I believe the preachers leave the city in the summer and let the Devil do his worst. Whether it is believed that the Devil has less power in warm weather, I do not know. But I do know that, as the mercury rises, the anxiety about souls decreases, and the hotter New York becomes, the cooler hell seems to be.
I want the workingman, no matter what he works at—whether at doctoring people, or trying law suits, or running for office—to have a real good time on Sunday. He, of course, must be careful not to interfere with the rights of others. He ought not to play draw-poker on the steps of a church; neither should he stone a Chinese funeral, nor go to any excesses; but all the week long he should have it in his mind: Next Sunday I am going to have a good time. My wife and I and the children are going to have a happy time. I am going out with the girl I like; or my young man is going to take me to the picnic. And this thought, and this hope, of having a good time on Sunday—of seeing some great pictures at the Metropolitan Art Gallery—together with a good many bad ones— will make work easy and lighten the burden on the shoulders of toil.
I take a great interest, too, in the working women—particularly in the working woman. I think that every workingman should see to it that every working woman has a good time on Sunday. I am no preacher. All I want is that everybody should enjoy himself in a way that he will not and does not interfere with the enjoyment of others.
It will not do to say that we cannot trust the people. Our Government is based upon the idea that the people can be trusted, and those who say that the workingmen cannot be trusted, do not believe in Republican or Democratic institutions. For one, I am perfectly willing to trust the working people of the country. I do, every day. I trust the engineers on the cars and steamers. I trust the builders of houses. I trust all laboring men every day of my life, and if the laboring people of the country were not trustworthy—if they were malicious or dishonest—life would not be worth living.
—The Journal, New York, June 6, 1890.
Question. Do you think the South will ever equal or surpass the West in point of prosperity?
Answer. I do not. The West has better soil and more of the elements of wealth. It is not liable to yellow fever; its rivers have better banks; the people have more thrift, more enterprise, more political hospitality; education is more general; the people are more inventive; better traders, and besides all this, there is no race problem. The Southern people are what their surroundings made them, and the influence of slavery has not yet died out. In my judgment the climate of the West is superior to that of the South. The West has good, cold winters, and they make people a little more frugal, prudent and industrious. Winters make good homes, cheerful firesides, and, after all, civilization commences at the hearthstone. The South is growing, and will continue to grow, but it will never equal the West. The West is destined to dominate the Republic.
Question. Do you consider the new ballot-law adapted to the needs of our system of elections? If not, in what particulars does it require amendment?
Answer. Personally I like the brave and open way. The secret ballot lacks courage. I want people to know just how I vote. The oldviva voceway was manly and looked well. Every American should be taught that he votes as a sovereign—an emperor—and he should exercise the right in a kingly way. But if we must have the secret ballot, then let it be secret indeed, and let the crowd stand back while the king votes.
Question. What do you think of the service pension movement?
Answer. I see that there is a great deal of talk here in Indiana about this service pension movement. It has always seemed to me that the pension fund has been frittered away. Of what use is it to give a man two or three dollars a month? If a man is rich why should he have any pension? I think it would be better to give pensions only to the needy, and then give them enough to support them. If the man was in the army a day or a month, and was uninjured, and can make his own living, or has enough, why should he have a pension? I believe in giving to the wounded and disabled and poor, with a liberal hand, but not to the rich. I know that the nation could not pay the men who fought and suffered. There is not money enough in the world to pay the heroes for what they did and endured —but there is money enough to keep every wounded and diseased soldier from want. There is money enough to fill the lives of those who gave limbs or health for the sake of the Republic, with comfort and happiness. I would also like to see the poor soldier taken care of whether he was wounded or not, but I see no propriety in giving to those who do not need.
—The Journal, Indianapolis, Indiana, June 21, 1890.
Question. What do you think of the revision of the Westminster creed?
Answer. I think that the intelligence and morality of the age demand the revision. The Westminster creed is infamous. It makes God an infinite monster, and men the most miserable of beings. That creed has made millions insane. It has furrowed countless cheeks with tears. Under its influence the sentiments and sympathies of the heart have withered. This creed was written by the worst of men. The civilized Presbyterians do not believe it. The intelligent clergyman will not preach it, and all good men who understand it, hold it in abhorrence. But the fact is that it is just as good as the creed of any orthodox church. All these creeds must be revised. Young America will not be consoled by the doctrine of eternal pain. Yes, the creeds must be revised or the churches will be closed.
Question. What do you think of the influence of the press on religion?
Answer. If you mean on orthodox religion, then I say the press is helping to destroy it. Just to the extent that the press is intelligent and fearless, it is and must be the enemy of superstition. Every fact in the universe is the enemy of every falsehood. The press furnishes food for, and excites thought. This tends to the destruction of the miraculous and absurd. I regard the press as the friend of progress and consequently the foe of orthodox religion. The old dogmas do not make the people happy. What is called religion is full of fear and grief. The clergy are always talking about dying, about the grave and eternal pain. They do not add to the sunshine of life. If they could have their way all the birds would stop singing, the flowers would lose their color and perfume, and all the owls would sit on dead trees and hoot, "Broad is the road that leads to death."
Question. If you should write your last sentence on religious topics what would be your closing?
Answer. I now in the presence of death affirm and reaffirm the truth of all that I have said against the superstitions of the world. I would say at least that much on the subject with my last breath.
Question. What, in your opinion, will be Browning's position in the literature of the future?
Answer. Lower than at present. Mrs. Browning was far greater than her husband. He never wrote anything comparable to "Mother and Poet." Browning lacked form, and that is as great a lack in poetry as it is in sculpture. He was the author of some great lines, some great thoughts, but he was obscure, uneven and was always mixing the poetic with the commonplace. To me he cannot be compared with Shelley or Keats, or with our own Walt Whitman. Of course poetry cannot be very well discussed. Each man knows what he likes, what touches his heart and what words burst into blossom, but he cannot judge for others. After one has read Shakespeare, Burns and Byron, and Shelley and Keats; after he has read the "Sonnets" and the "Daisy" and the "Prisoner of Chillon" and the "Skylark" and the "Ode to the Grecian Urn"—the "Flight of the Duchess" seems a little weak.
—The Post-Express, Rochester, New York, June 23, 1890.
Question. What is your opinion of Ignatius Donnelly as a literary man irrespective of his Baconian theory?
Answer. I know that Mr. Donnelly enjoys the reputation of being a man of decided ability and that he is regarded by many as a great orator. He is known to me through his Baconian theory, and in that of course I have no confidence. It is nearly as ingenious as absurd. He has spent great time, and has devoted much curious learning to the subject, and has at last succeeded in convincing himself that Shakespeare claimed that which he did not write, and that Bacon wrote that which he did not claim. But to me the theory is without the slightest foundation.
Question. Mr. Donnelly asks: "Can you imagine the author of such grand productions retiring to that mud house in Stratford to live without a single copy of the quarto that has made his name famous?" What do you say?
Answer. Yes; I can. Shakespeare died in 1616, and the quarto was published in 1623, seven years after he was dead. Under these circumstances I think Shakespeare ought to be excused, even by those who attack him with the greatest bitterness, for not having a copy of the book. There is, however, another side to his. Bacon did not die until long after the quarto was published. Did he have a copy? Did he mention the copy in his will? Did he ever mention the quarto in any letter, essay, or in any way? He left a library, was there a copy of the plays in it? Has there ever been found a line from any play or sonnet in his handwriting? Bacon left his writings, his papers, all in perfect order, but no plays, no sonnets, said nothing about plays—claimed nothing on their behalf. This is the other side. Now, there is still another thing. The edition of 1623 was published by Shakespeare's friends, Heminge and Condell. They knew him—had been with him for years, and they collected most of his plays and put them in book form.
Ben Jonson wrote a preface, in which he placed Shakespeare above all the other poets—declared that he was for all time.
The edition of 1623 was gotten up by actors, by the friends and associates of Shakespeare, vouched for by dramatic writers—by those who knew him. This is enough.
Question. How do you explain the figure: "His soul, like Mazeppa, was lashed naked to the wild horse of every fear and love and hate"? Mr. Donnelly does not understand you.
Answer. It hardly seems necessary to explain a thing as simple and plain as that. Men are carried away by some fierce passion— carried away in spite of themselves as Mazeppa was carried by the wild horse to which he was lashed. Whether the comparison is good or bad it is at least plain. Nothing could tempt me to call Mr. Donnelly's veracity in question. He says that he does not understand the sentence and I most cheerfully admit that he tells the exact truth.
Question. Mr. Donnelly says that you said: "Where there is genius, education seems almost unnecessary," and he denounces your doctrine as the most abominable doctrine ever taught. What have you to say to that?
Answer. In the first place, I never made the remark. In the next place, it may be well enough to ask what education is. Much is taught in colleges that is of no earthly use; much is taught that is hurtful. There are thousands of educated men who never graduated from any college or university. Every observant, thoughtful man is educating himself as long as he lives. Men are better then books. Observation is a great teacher. A man of talent learns slowly. He does not readily see the necessary relation that one fact bears to another. A man of genius, learning one fact, instantly sees hundreds of others. It is not necessary for such a man to attend college. The world is his university. Every man he meets is a book—every woman a volume every fact a torch—and so without the aid of the so-called schools he rises to the very top. Shakespeare was such a man.
Question. Mr. Donnelly says that: "The biggest myth ever on earth was Shakespeare, and that if Francis Bacon had said to the people, I, Francis Bacon, a gentleman of gentlemen, have been taking in secret my share of the coppers and shillings taken at the door of those low playhouses, he would have been ruined. If he had put the plays forth simply as poetry it would have ruined his legal reputation." What do you think of this?
Answer. I hardly think that Shakespeare was a myth. He was certainly born, married, lived in London, belonged to a company of actors; went back to Stratford, where he had a family, and died. All these things do not as a rule happen to myths. In addition to this, those who knew him believed him to be the author of the plays. Bacon's friends never suspected him. I do not think it would have hurt Bacon to have admitted that he wrote "Lear" and "Othello," and that he was getting "coppers and shillings" to which he was justly entitled. Certainly not as much as for him to have written this, which if fact, though not in exact form, he did write: "I, Francis Bacon, a gentleman of gentlemen, have been taking coppers and shillings to which I was not entitled—but which I received as bribes while sitting as a judge." He has been excused for two reasons. First, because his salary was small, and, second, because it was the custom for judges to receive presents.
Bacon was a lawyer. He was charged with corruption—with having taken bribes, with having sold his decisions. He knew what the custom was and knew how small his salary was. But he did not plead the custom in his defense. He did not mention the smallness of the salary. He confessed that he was guilty—as charged. His confession was deemed too general and he was called upon by the Lords to make a specific confession. This he did. He specified the cases in which he had received the money and told how much, and begged for mercy. He did not make his confession, as Mr. Donnelly is reported to have said, to get his fine remitted. The confession was made before the fine was imposed.
Neither do I think that the theatre in which the plays of Shakespeare were represented could or should be called a "low play house." The fact that "Othello," "Lear," "Hamlet," "Julius Cæsar," and the other great dramas were first played in that playhouse made it the greatest building in the world. The gods themselves should have occupied seats in that theatre, where for the first time the greatest productions of the human mind were put upon the stage.
—The Tribune, Minneapolis, Minn., May 31, 1891.
Question. How have you acquired the art of growing old gracefully?
Answer. It is very hard to live a great while without getting old, and it is hardly worth while to die just to keep young. It is claimed that people with certain incomes live longer than those who have to earn their bread. But the income people have a stupid kind of life, and though they may hang on a good many years, they can hardly be said to do much real living. The best you can say is, not that they lived so many years, but that it took them so many years to die. Some people imagine that regular habits prolong life, but that depends somewhat on the habits. Only the other day I read an article written by a physician, in which regular habits —good ones, were declared to be quite dangerous.
Where life is perfectly regular, all the wear and tear comes on the same nerves—every blow falls on the same place. Variety, even in a bad direction, is a great relief. But living long has nothing to do with getting old gracefully. Good nature is a great enemy of wrinkles, and cheerfulness helps the complexion. If we could only keep from being annoyed at little things, it would add to the luxury of living. Great sorrows are few, and after all do not affect us as much as the many irritating, almost nothings that attack from every side. The traveler is bothered more with dust than mountains. It is a great thing to have an object in life— something to work for and think for. If a man thinks only about himself, his own comfort, his own importance, he will not grow old gracefully. More and more his spirit, small and mean, will leave its impress on his face, and especially in his eyes. You look at him and feel that there is no jewel in the casket; that a shriveled soul is living in a tumble-down house.
The body gets its grace from the mind. I suppose that we are all more or less responsible for our looks. Perhaps the thinker of great thoughts, the doer of noble deeds, moulds his features in harmony with his life.
Probably the best medicine, the greatest beautifier in the world, is to make somebody else happy. I have noticed that good mothers have faces as serene as a cloudless day in June, and the older the serener. It is a great thing to know the relative importance of things, and those who do, get the most out of life. Those who take an interest in what they see, and keep their minds busy are always young.
The other day I met a blacksmith who has given much attention to geology and fossil remains. He told me how happy he was in his excursions. He was nearly seventy years old, and yet he had the enthusiasm of a boy. He said he had some very fine specimens, "but," said he, "nearly every night I dream of finding perfect ones."
That man will keep young as long as he lives. As long as a man lives he should study. Death alone has the right to dismiss the school. No man can get too much knowledge. In that, he can have all the avarice he wants, but he can get too much property. If the business men would stop when they got enough, they might have a chance to grow old gracefully. But the most of them go on and on, until, like the old stage horse, stiff and lame, they drop dead in the road. The intelligent, the kind, the reasonably contented, the courageous, the self-poised, grow old gracefully.
Question. Are not the restraints to free religious thought being worn away, as the world grows older, and will not the recent attacks of the religious press and pulpit upon the unorthodoxy of Dr. Briggs, Rev. R. Heber Newton and the prospective Episcopal bishop of Massachusetts, Dr. Phillips Brooks, and others, have a tendency still further to extend this freedom?
Answer. Of course the world is growing somewhat wiser—getting more sense day by day. It is amazing to me that any human being or beings ever wrote the Presbyterian creed. Nothing can be more absurd—more barbaric than that creed. It makes man the sport of an infinite monster, and yet good people, men and women of ability, who have gained eminence in almost every department of human effort, stand by this creed as if it were filled with wisdom and goodness. They really think that a good God damns his poor ignorant children just for his own glory, and that he sends people to perdition, not for any evil in them, but to the praise of his glorious justice. Dr. Briggs has been wicked enough to doubt this phase of God's goodness, and Dr. Bridgman was heartless enough to drop a tear in hell. Of course they have no idea of what justice really is.
The Presbyterian General Assembly that has just adjourned stood by Calvinism. The "Five Points" are as sharp as ever. The members of that assembly—most of them—find all their happiness in the "creed." They need no other amusement. If they feel blue they read about total depravity—and cheer up. In moments of great sorrow they think of the tale of non-elect infants, and their hearts overflow with a kind of joy.
They cannot imagine why people wish to attend the theatre when they can read the "Confession of Faith," or why they should feel like dancing after they do read it.
It is very sad to think of the young men and women who have been eternally ruined by witnessing the plays of Shakespeare, and it is also sad to think of the young people, foolish enough to be happy, keeping time to the pulse of music, waltzing to hell in loving pairs—all for the glory of God, and to the praise of his glorious justice. I think, too, of the thousands of men and women who, while listening to the music of Wagner, have absolutely forgotten the Presbyterian creed, and who for a little while have been as happy as if the creed had never been written. Tear down the theatres, burn the opera houses, break all musical instruments, and then let us go to church.
I am not at all surprised that the General Assembly took up this progressive euchre matter. The word "progressive" is always obnoxious to the ministers. Euchre under another name might go. Of course, progressive euchre is a kind of gambling. I knew a young man, or rather heard of him, who won at progressive euchre a silver spoon. At first this looks like nothing, almost innocent, and yet that spoon, gotten for nothing, sowed the seed of gambling in that young man's brain. He became infatuated with euchre, then with cards in general, then with draw-poker in particular,—then into Wall Street. He is now a total wreck, and has the impudence to say that is was all "pre-ordained." Think of the thousands and millions that are being demoralized by games of chance, by marbles —when they play for keeps—by billiards and croquet, by fox and geese, authors, halma, tiddledywinks and pigs in clover. In all these miserable games, is the infamous element of chance—the raw material of gambling. Probably none of these games could be played exclusively for the glory of God. I agree with the Presbyterian General Assembly, if the creed is true, why should anyone try to amuse himself? If there is a hell, and all of us are going there, there should never be another smile on the human face. We should spend our days in sighs, our nights in tears. The world should go insane. We find strange combinations—good men with bad creeds, and bad men with good ones—and so the great world stumbles along.
—The Blade, Toledo, Ohio, June 4, 1891.