The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll Volume XII Part 27

THE UNTHINKABLE.--It is admitted by all who have thought upon the question that a First Cause is unthinkable--that a creative power is beyond the reach of human thought. It therefore follows that the miraculous is unthinkable. There is no possible way in which the human mind can even think of a miracle. It is infinitely beyond our power of conception. We can conceive of the statement, but not of the thing. It is impossible for the intellect to conceive of a clay pot producing oil.

It is impossible to conceive even, of human life being perpetuated in the midst of fire. This is just as unthinkable as that twice two are twenty-seven. A man can say that three times three are two, but it is impossible to think of any such thing--that is, to think of such a statement as true. A man may say that he heard a stone sing a song and heard it afterward repeat a part of Milton's "Paradise Lost." Now, I can conceive of a man telling such a falsehood, but I cannot conceive of the thing having happened.

CAN HUMAN TESTIMONY Overcome the Apparently Impossible Without Explanation?--It can only be believed by a philosophic mind when explained--that is to say, by being destroyed as a miracle, and persisting simply as a fact.

Now, I say that a miracle is unthinkable because a power above Nature, a power that created Nature, is unthinkable. And if a power above Nature be unthinkable, the miracles claiming to be supernatural are unthinkable. In other words, all consequences flowing from a belief in an infinite Creator are necessarily unthinkable.

EDOUARD REMENYI.--This week the great violinist, Edouard Remenyi, as my guest, visited the Ba.s.s Rocks House, Cape Ann, Ma.s.s., and for three days delighted and entranced the fortunate idlers of the beach. He played nearly all the time, night and day, seemingly carried away with his own music. Among the many selections given, were the andante from the Tenth Sonata in E flat, also from the Twelfth Sonata in G minor, by Mozart.

Nothing could exceed the wonderful playing of the selections from the Twelfth Sonata. A hush as of death fell upon the audience, and when he ceased, tears fell upon applauding hands. Then followed the Elegie from Ernst; then "The Ideal Dance" composed by himself--a fairy piece, full of wings and glancing feet, moonlight and melody, where fountains fall in showers of pearl, and waves of music die on sands of gold--then came the "Barcarole" by Schubert, and he played this with infinite spirit, in a kind of inspired frenzy, as though music itself were mad with joy; then the grand Sonata in G, in three movements, by Beethoven.--August, 1880.

Remenyi's Playing.--In my mind the old tones are still rising and falling--still throbbing, pleading, beseeching, imploring, wailing like the lost--rising winged and triumphant, superb and victorious--then caressing, whispering every thought of love--intoxicated, delirious with joy--panting with pa.s.sion--fading to silence as softly and imperceptibly as consciousness is lost in sleep.

THE KINDERGARTEN is perfectly adapted to the natural needs and desires of children. Most children dislike the old system and go "unwillingly to school." They feel imprisoned and wait impatiently for their liberty.

They learn without understanding and take no interest in their lessons.

In the Kindergarten there is perfect liberty, and study is transformed into play. To learn is a pleasure. There are no wearisome tasks--no mental drudgery--nothing but enjoyment,--the enjoyment of natural development in natural ways. Children do not have to be driven to the Kindergarten. To be kept away is a punishment.

The experience in many towns and cities justifies our belief that the Kindergarten is the only valuable school for little children. They are brought in contact with actual things--with forms and colors--things that can be seen and touched, and they are taught to use their hands and senses--to understand qualities and relations, and all is done under the guise of play. We agree with Froebel who said: "Let us live for our children."

THE METHODIST CHURCH STATISTICS.--First. In 1800, a resolution in favor of gradual emanc.i.p.ation was defeated.

Second. In 1804, resolutions pa.s.sed requiring ministers to exhort slaves to be obedient to their masters.

Third. In 1808, everything about laymen owning slaves Stricken out.

Fourth. In 1820, a resolution that ministers should not hold slaves was defeated.

Fifth. In 1836, a resolution pa.s.sed that the Methodist Church opposed, abolition of slavery--one hundred and twenty to fourteen.

Sixth. In 1845-1846, the Methodist Church divided--Bishop Andrews owned slaves.

Seventh. As late as 1860 there were over ten thousand Methodists who were slaveholders in the M. E. Church, North.

117 East 21st Str., N. Y.

* Response to an invitation to a dinner and a billiard tournament at the Manhattan Athletic Club, New York City.

Feby. 18, 1899.

My Dear Dr. Ranney:

I go to Boston to-morrow. So, you see it is impossible for me to be with you on the 22d inst. I would like to make a few remarks on "orthodox billiards." The fact is that the whole world is a table, we are the b.a.l.l.s and Fate plays the game. We are knocked and whacked against each other,--followed and drawn--whirled and twisted, pocketed and spotted, and all the time we think that we are doing the playing. But no matter, we feel that we are in the game, and a real good illusion is, after all, it may be, the only reality that we know. At the same time, I feel that Fate is a careless player--that he is always a little nervous and generally forgets to chalk his cue. I know that he has made lots of mistakes with me--lots of misses.

With many thanks, I remain, yours always.

R. G. Ingersoll.

THOUGHTS ON CHRISTMAS, 1891.--It is beautiful to give one day to the ideal--to have one day apart; one day for generous deeds, for good will, for gladness; one day to forget the shadows, the rains, the storms of life; to remember the sunshine, the happiness of youth and health; one day to forget the briers and thorns of the winding path, to remember the fruits and flowers; one day in which to feed the hungry, to salute the poor and lowly; one day to feel the brotherhood of man; one day to remember the heroic and loving deeds of the dead; one day to get acquainted with children, to remember the old, the unfortunate and the imprisoned; one day in which to forget yourself and think lovingly of others; one day for the family, for the fireside, for wife and children, for the love and laughter, the joy and rapture, of home; one day in which bonds and stocks and deeds and notes and interest and mortgages and all kinds of business and trade are forgotten, and all stores and shops and factories and offices and banks and ledgers and accounts and lawsuits are cast aside, put away and locked up, and the weary heart and brain are given a voyage to fairyland.

Let us hope that such a day is a prophecy of what all days will be.

THE ORTHODOX PREACHERS are several centuries in the rear. They all love the absurd, and glory in believing the impossible. They are also as conservative as though they were dead--good people--the leaders of those who are going backward.

The Man who builds a home erects a temple.

The flame upon the hearth is the sacred fire.

He who loves wife and children is the true worshiper.

Forms and ceremonies, kneelings and fastings are born of selfish fear.

A good deed is the best prayer.

A loving life is the best religion.

No one knows whether the Unknown is worthy of worship or not.

WE TWO, THE DOUBTING BRAIN AND HOPING HEART, with somber thought and radiant wish, in dusk and dawn, in light and shade 'neath star and sun, together journeying toward the night. And then the end, sighs the doubting brain--but there is no end, says the hoping heart. O Brain! if you knew, you would not doubt. O Heart! if you knew, you would not hope.

RIGHTS AND DUTIES spring from the same source. He who has no rights has no duties. Without liberty there can be no responsibility and no conscience. Man calls himself to an account for the use of his power, and pa.s.ses judgment upon himself. The standard of such judgment we call conscience. In the proportion that man uses his liberty, his power, for the good of all, he advances, becomes civilized. Civilization does not consist merely in invention, discovery, material advancement, but in doing justice. By civilization is meant all discoveries, facts, theories, agencies, that add to the happiness of man.

AT BAY.--Sometimes in the darkness of night I feel as though surrounded by the great armies of effacement--that the horizon is growing smaller every moment--that the final surrender is only postponed--that everything is taking something from me--that Nature robs me with her countless hands--that my heart grows weaker with every beat--that even kisses wear me away, and that every thought takes toll of my brief life.

THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY.*--One year of perfect health--of countless smiles--of wonder and surprise--of growing thought and love--was duly celebrated on this day, and all paid tribute to the infant queen. There were whirling things that scattered music as they turned--and boxes filled with tunes--and curious animals of whittled wood--and ivory rings with tinkling bells--and little dishes for a fairy-feast--horses that rocked, and bleating sheep and monstrous elephants of painted tin. A baby-tender, for a tender babe, garments of silk and cushions wrought with flowers, and pictures of her mother when a babe--and silver dishes for another year--and coach and four and train of cars--and bric-a-brac for a baby's house--and last of all, a pearl, to mark her first round year of life and love.

* Written on the first anniversary of his grandchild, Eva Ingersoll-Brown, August 27, 1892.

Sh.e.l.lEY.--The light of morn beyond the purple hills--a palm that lifts its coronet of leaves above the desert's sands--an isle of green in some far sea--a spring that waits for lips of thirst--a strain of music heard within some palace wrought of dreams--a cloud of gold above a setting sun--a fragrance wafted from some unseen sh.o.r.e.