PSYCHICAL RESEARCH AND THE BIBLE.*
[* As an incident in the life of any one favored with the privilege, a visit to the home of Col. Robert G. Ingersoll is certain to be recalled as a most pleasant and profitable experience. Although not a sympathizer with the great Agnostic's religious views, yet I have long admired his ability, his humor, his intellectual honesty and courage. And it was with gratification that I accepted the good offices of a common friend who recently offered to introduce me to the Ingersoll domestic circle in Gramercy Park. Here I found the genial Colonel, surrounded by his children, his grandchildren, and his amiable wife, whose smiling greeting dispelled formality and breathed "Welcome" in every syllable. The family relationship seemed absolutely ideal—the very walls emitting an atmosphere of art and music, of contentment and companionship, of mutual trust, happiness and generosity.
But my chief desire was to elicit Colonel Ingersoll's personal views on questions related to the New Thought and its attitude on matters on which he is known to have very decided opinions. My request for a private chat was cordially granted. During the conversation that ensued—(the substance of which is presented to the readers of Mind in the following paragraphs, with the Colonel's consent)—I was impressed most deeply, not by the force of his arguments, but by the sincerity of his convictions. Among some of his more violent opponents, who presumably lack other opportunities of becoming known, it is the fashion to accuse Ingersoll of having really no belief in his own opinions. But, if he convinced me of little else, he certainly, without effort, satisfied my mind that this accusation is a slander. Utterly mistaken in his views he may be; but if so, his errors are more honest than many of those he points out in the King James version of the Bible. If his pulpit enemies could talk with this man by his own fireside, they would pay less attention to Ingersoll himself and more to what he says. They would consider his meaning, rather than his motive.
As the Colonel is the most conspicuous denunciator of intolerance and bigotry in America, he has been inevitably the greatest victim of these obstacles to mental freedom. "To answer Ingersoll" is the pet ambition of many a young clergyman—the older ones have either acquired prudence or are broad enough to concede the utility of even Agnostics in the economy of evolution. It was with the very subject that we began our talk—the uncharitableness of men, otherwise good, in their treatment of those whose religious views differ from their own.]
Question. What is your conception of true intellectual hospitality? As Truth can brook no compromises, has it not the same limitations that surround social and domestic hospitality?
Answer. In the republic of mind we are all equals. Each one is sceptered and crowned. Each one is the monarch of his own realm. By "intellectual hospitality" I mean the right of every one to think and to express his thought. It makes no difference whether his thought is right or wrong. If you are intellectually hospitable you will admit the right of every human being to see for himself; to hear with his own ears, see with his own eyes, and think with his own brain. You will not try to change his thought by force, by persecution, or by slander. You will not threaten him with punishment—here or hereafter. You will give him your thought, your reasons, your facts; and there you will stop. This is intellectual hospitality. You do not give up what you believe to be the truth; you do not compromise. You simply give him the liberty you claim for yourself. The truth is not affected by your opinion or by his. Both may be wrong. For many years the church has claimed to have the "truth," and has also insisted that it is the duty of every man to believe it, whether it is reasonable to him or not. This is bigotry in its basest form. Every man should be guided by his reason; should be true to himself; should preserve the veracity of his soul. Each human being should judge for himself. The man that believes that all men have this right is intellectually hospitable.
Question. In the sharp distinction between theology and religion that is now recognized by many theologians, and in the liberalizing of the church that has marked the last two decades, are not most of your contentions already granted? Is not the "lake of fire and brimstone" an obsolete issue?
Answer. There has been in the last few years a great advance. The orthodox creeds have been growing vulgar and cruel. Civilized people are shocked at the dogma of eternal pain, and the belief in hell has mostly faded away. The churches have not changed their creeds. They still pretend to believe as they always have—but they have changed their tone. God is now a father—a friend. He is no longer the monster, the savage, described in the Bible. He has become somewhat civilized. He no longer claims the right to damn us because he made us. But in spite of all the errors and contradictions, in spite of the cruelties and absurdities found in the Scriptures, the churches still insist that the Bible is inspired. The educated ministers admit that the Pentateuch was not written by Moses; that the Psalms were not written by David; that Isaiah was the work of at least three; that Daniel was not written until after the prophecies mentioned in that book had been fulfilled; that Ecclesiastes was not written until the second century after Christ; that Solomon's Song was not written by Solomon; that the book of Esther is of no importance; and that no one knows, or pretends to know, who were the authors of Kings, Samuel, Chronicles, or Job. And yet these same gentlemen still cling to the dogma of inspiration! It is no longer claimed that the Bible is true—but inspired.
Question. Yet the sacred volume, no matter who wrote it, is a mine of wealth to the student and the philosopher, is it not? Would you have us discard it altogether?
Answer. Inspiration must be abandoned, and the Bible must take its place among the books of the world. It contains some good passages, a little poetry, some good sense, and some kindness; but its philosophy is frightful. In fact, if the book had never existed I think it would have been far better for mankind. It is not enough to give up the Bible; that is only the beginning. The supernatural must be given up. It must be admitted that Nature has no master; that there never has been any interference from without; that man has received no help from heaven; and that all the prayers that have ever been uttered have died unanswered in the heedless air. The religion of the supernatural has been a curse. We want the religion of usefulness.
Question. But have you no use whatever for prayer—even in the sense of aspiration—or for faith, in the sense of confidence in the ultimate triumph of the right?
Answer. There is a difference between wishing, hoping, believing, and—knowing. We can wish without evidence or probability, and we can wish for the impossible—for what we believe can never be. We cannot hope unless there is in the mind a possibility that the thing hoped for can happen. We can believe only in accordance with evidence, and we know only that which has been demonstrated. I have no use for prayer; but I do a good deal of wishing and hoping. I hope that some time the right will triumph—that Truth will gain the victory; but I have no faith in gaining the assistance of any god, or of any supernatural power. I never pray.
Question. However fully materialism, as a philosophy, may accord with the merely human reason, is it not wholly antagonistic to the instinctive faculties of the mind?
Answer. Human reason is the final arbiter. Any system that does not commend itself to the reason must fall. I do not know exactly what you mean by materialism. I do not know what matter is. I am satisfied, however, that without matter there can be no force, no life, no thought, no reason. It seems to me that mind is a form of force, and force cannot exist apart from matter. If it is said that God created the universe, then there must have been a time when he commenced to create. If at that time there was nothing in existence but himself, how could he have exerted any force? Force cannot be exerted except in opposition to force. If God was the only existence, force could not have been exerted.
Question. But don't you think, Colonel, that the materialistic philosophy, even in the light of your own interpretation, is essentially pessimistic?
Answer. I do not consider it so. I believe that the pessimists and the optimists are both right. This is the worst possible world, and this is the best possible world—because it is as it must be. The present is the child, and the necessary child, of all the past.
Question. What have you to say concerning the operations of the Society for Psychical Research? Do not its facts and conclusions prove, if not immortality, at least the continuity of life beyond the grave? Are the millions of Spiritualists deluded?
Answer. Of course I have heard and read a great deal about the doings of the Society; so, I have some knowledge as to what is claimed by Spiritualists, by Theosophists, and by all other believers in what are called "spiritual manifestations." Thousands of wonderful tings have been established by what is called "evidence" —the testimony of good men and women. I have seen things done that I could not explain, both by mediums and magicians. I also know that it is easy to deceive the senses, and that the old saying "that seeing is believing" is subject to many exceptions. I am perfectly satisfied that there is, and can be, no force without matter; that everything that is—all phenomena—all actions and thoughts, all exhibitions of force, have a material basis—that nothing exists,—ever did, or ever will exist, apart from matter. So I am satisfied that no matter ever existed, or ever will, apart from force.
We think with the same force with which we walk. For every action and for every thought, we draw upon the store of force that we have gained from air and food. We create no force; we borrow it all. As force cannot exist apart from matter, it must be used with matter. It travels only on material roads. It is impossible to convey a thought to another without the assistance of matter. No one can conceive of the use of one of our senses without substance. No one can conceive of a thought in the absence of the senses. With these conclusions in my mind—in my brain—I have not the slightest confidence in "spiritual manifestations," and do not believe that any message has ever been received from the dead. The testimony that I have heard—that I have read—coming even from men of science—has not the slightest weight with me. I do not pretend to see beyond the grave. I do not say that man is, or is not, immortal. All I say is that there is no evidence that we live again, and no demonstration that we do not. It is better ignorantly to hope than dishonestly to affirm.
Question. And what do you think of the modern development of metaphysics—as expressed outside of the emotional and semi- ecclesiastical schools? I refer especially to the power of mind in the curing of disease—as demonstrated by scores of drugless healers.
Answer. I have no doubt that the condition of the mind has some effect upon the health. The blood, the heart, the lungs answer— respond to—emotion. There is no mind without body, and the body is affected by thought—by passion, by cheerfulness, by depression. Still, I have not the slightest confidence in what is called "mind cure." I do not believe that thought, or any set of ideas, can cure a cancer, or prevent the hair from falling out, or remove a tumor, or even freckles. At the same time, I admit that cheerfulness is good and depression bad. But I have no confidence in what you call "drugless healers." If the stomach is sour, soda is better than thinking. If one is in great pain, opium will beat meditation. I am a believer in what you call "drugs," and when I am sick I send for a physician. I have no confidence in the supernatural. Magic is not medicine.
Question. One great object of this movement, is to make religion scientific—an aid to intellectual as well as spiritual progress. Is it not thus to be encouraged, and destined to succeed—even though it prove the reality and supremacy of the spirit and the secondary importance of the flesh?
Answer. When religion becomes scientific, it ceases to be religion and becomes science. Religion is not intellectual—it is emotional. It does not appeal to the reason. The founder of a religion has always said: "Let him that hath ears to hear, hear!" No founder has said: "Let him that hath brains to think, think!" Besides, we need not trouble ourselves about "spirit" and "flesh." We know that we know of no spirit—without flesh. We have no evidence that spirit ever did or ever will exist apart from flesh. Such existence is absolutely inconceivable. If we are going to construct what you call a "religion," it must be founded on observed and known facts. Theories, to be of value, must be in accord with all the facts that are known; otherwise they are worthless. We need not try to get back of facts or behind the truth. The why will forever elude us. You cannot move your hand quickly enough to grasp your image back of the mirror.
—Mind, New York, March, 1899.