Question. Do you think the President should have stated his policy in Boston the other day?
Answer. Yes, I think it would be better if he would unpack his little budget—I like McKinley, but I liked him just as well before he was President. He is a good man, not because he is President, but because he is a man—you know that real honor must be earned— people cannot give honor—honor is not alms—it is wages. So, when a man is elected President the best thing he can do is to remain a natural man. Yes, I wish McKinley would brush all his advisers to one side and say his say; I believe his say would be right.
Now, don't change this interview and make me say something mean about McKinley, because I like him. The other day, in Chicago, I had an interview and I wrote it out. In that "interview" I said a few things about the position of Senator Hoar. I tried to show that he was wrong—but I took pains to express by admiration for Senator Hoar. When the interview was published I was made to say that Senator Hoar was a mud-head. I never said or thought anything of the kind. Don't treat me as that Chicago reporter did.
Question. What do you think of Atkinson's speech?
Answer. Well, some of it is good—but I never want to see the soldiers of the Republic whipped. I am always on our side.
—The Press, Philadelphia, February 20, 1899.
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.]