Heretics and Heresies
Liberty, a Word without which all other Words are Vain

by Robert G. Ingersoll
(1874)

From The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll (Dresden Edition, 1900–1902), Volume 1.
Source: https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/heretics-and-heresies/
Public domain. CC0 / Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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WHOEVER has an opinion of his own, and honestly expresses it, will be
guilty of heresy. Heresy is what the minority believe; it is the name
given by the powerful to the doctrine of the weak. This word was born of
the hatred, arrogance and cruelty of those who love their enemies, and
who, when smitten on one cheek, turn the other. This word was born of
intellectual slavery in the feudal ages of thought It was an epithet
used in the place of argument. From the commencement of the Christian
era, every art has been exhausted and every conceivable punishment
inflicted to force all people to hold the same religious opinions. This
effort was born of the idea that a certain belief was necessary to the
salvation of the soul. Christ taught, and the church still teaches,
that unbelief is the blackest of crimes. God is supposed to hate with
an infinite and implacable hatred, every heretic upon the earth, and the
heretics who have died are supposed at this moment to be suffering the
agonies of the damned. The church persecutes the living and her God
burns the dead.

It is claimed that God wrote a book called the Bible, and it is
generally admitted that this book is somewhat difficult to understand.
As long as the church had all the copies of this book, and the people
were not allowed to read it, there was comparatively little heresy in
the world; but when it was printed and read, people began honestly to
differ as to its meaning. A few were independent and brave enough to
give the world their real thoughts, and for the extermination of these
men the church used all her power. Protestants and Catholics vied with
each other in the work of enslaving the human mind. For ages they were
rivals in the infamous effort to rid the earth of honest people. They
infested every country, every city, town, hamlet and family. They
appealed to the worst passions of the human heart They sowed the seeds
of discord and hatred in every land. Brother denounced brother, wives
informed against their husbands, mothers accused their children,
dungeons were crowded with the innocent; the flesh of the good and true
rotted in the clasp of chains; the flames devoured the heroic, and in
the name of the most merciful God, his children were exterminated with
famine, sword, and fire. Over the wild waves of battle rose and fell
the banner of Jesus Christ. For sixteen hundred years the robes of the
church were red with innocent blood. The ingenuity of Christians was
exhausted in devising punishment severe enough to be inflicted upon
other Christians who honestly and sincerely differed with them upon any
point whatever.

Give any orthodox church the power, and to-day they would punish heresy
with whip, and chain, and fire. As long as a church deems a certain
belief essential to salvation, just so long it will kill and burn if it
has the power. Why should the church pity a man whom her God hates? Why
should she show mercy to a kind and noble heretic whom her God will burn
in eternal fire? Why should a Christian be better than his God? It is
impossible for the imagination to conceive of a greater atrocity than
has been perpetrated by the church. Every nerve in the human body
capable of pain has been sought out and touched by the church.

Let it be remembered that all churches have persecuted heretics to the
extent of their power. Toleration has increased only when and where the
power of the church has diminished. From Augustine until now the
spirit of the Christians has remained the same. There has been the same
intolerance, the same undying hatred of all who think for themselves,
and the same determination to crush out of the human brain all knowledge
inconsistent with an ignorant creed.

Every church pretends that it has a revelation from God, and that this
revelation must be given to the people through the church; that the
church acts through its priests, and that ordinary mortals must be
content with a revelation—not from God—but from the church. Had the
people submitted to this preposterous claim, of course there could have
been but one church, and that church never could have advanced. It might
have retrograded, because it is not necessary to think or investigate in
order to forget. Without heresy there could have been no progress.

The highest type of the orthodox Christian does not forget; neither
does he learn. He neither advances nor recedes. He is a living fossil
embedded in that rock called faith. He makes no effort to better his
condition, because all his strength is exhausted in keeping other people
from improving theirs. The supreme desire of his heart is to force all
others to adopt his creed, and in order to accomplish this object he
denounces free thinking as a crime, and this crime he calls heresy. When
he had power, heresy was the most terrible and formidable of words. It
meant confiscation, exile, imprisonment, torture, and death.

In those days the cross and rack were inseparable companions. Across
the open Bible lay the sword and fagot. Not content with burning such
heretics as were alive, they even tried the dead, in order that the
church might rob their wives and children. The property of all heretics
was confiscated, and on this account they charged the dead with being
heretical—indicted, as it were, their dust—to the end that the
church might clutch the bread of orphans. Learned divines discussed
the propriety of tearing out the tongues of heretics before they were
burned, and the general opinion was, that this ought to be done so that
the heretics should not be able, by uttering blasphemies, to shock
the Christians who were burning them. With a mixture of ferocity and
Christianity, the priests insisted that heretics ought to be burned at
a slow fire, giving as a reason that more time was given them for
repentance.

No wonder that Jesus Christ said, "I came not to bring peace, but a
sword."

Every priest regarded himself as the agent of God. He answered all
questions by authority, and to treat him with disrespect was an insult
offered to God. No one was asked to think, but all were commanded to
obey.

In 1208 the Inquisition was established. Seven years afterward, the
fourth council of the Lateran enjoined all kings and rulers to swear
an oath that they would exterminate heretics from their dominions. The
sword of the church was unsheathed, and the world was at the mercy of
ignorant and infuriated priests, whose eyes feasted upon the agonies
they inflicted. Acting, as they believed, or pretended to believe, under
the command of God; stimulated by the hope of infinite reward in another
world—hating heretics with every drop of their bestial blood; savage
beyond description; merciless beyond conception,—these infamous
priests, in a kind of frenzied joy, leaped upon the helpless victims of
their rage. They crushed their bones in iron boots; tore their quivering
flesh with iron hooks and pincers; cut off their lips and eyelids;
pulled out their nails, and into the bleeding quick thrust needles; tore
out their tongues; extinguished their eyes; stretched them upon racks;
flayed them alive; crucified them with their heads downward; exposed
them to wild beasts; burned them at the stake; mocked their cries and
groans; ravished their wives; robbed their children, and then prayed God
to finish the holy work in hell.

Millions upon millions were sacrificed upon the altars of bigotry. The
Catholic burned the Lutheran, the Lutheran burned the Catholic, the
Episcopalian tortured the Presbyterian, the Presbyterian tortured the
Episcopalian. Every denomination killed all it could of every other; and
each Christian felt in duty bound to exterminate every other Christian
who denied the smallest fraction of his creed.

In the reign of Henry VIII.—that pious and moral founder of the
apostolic Episcopal Church,—there was passed by the parliament of
England an act entitled "An act for abolishing of diversity of opinion."
And in this act was set forth what a good Christian was obliged to
believe: First, That in the sacrament was the real body and blood of
Jesus Christ.

Second, That the body and blood of Jesus Christ was in the bread, and
the blood and body of Jesus Christ was in the wine.

Third, That priests should not marry.

Fourth, That vows of chastity were of perpetual obligation.

Fifth, That private masses ought to be continued; and,

Sixth, That auricular confession to a priest must be maintained.

This creed was made by law, in order that all men might know just what
to believe by simply reading the statute. The church hated to see the
people wearing out their brains in thinking upon these subjects. It was
thought far better that a creed should be made by parliament, so that
whatever might be lacking in evidence might be made up in force. The
punishment for denying the first article was death by fire. For
the denial of any other article, imprisonment, and for the second
offence—death.

Your attention is called to these six articles, established during the
reign of Henry VIII., and by the Church of England, simply because not
one of these articles is believed by that church to-day. If the law then
made by the church could be enforced now, every Episcopalian would be
burned at the stake.

Similar laws were passed in most Christian countries, as all orthodox
churches firmly believed that mankind could be legislated into heaven.
According to the creed of every church, slavery leads to heaven, liberty
leads to hell. It was claimed that God had founded the church, and that
to deny the authority of the church was to be a traitor to God, and
consequently an ally of the devil. To torture and destroy one of the
soldiers of Satan was a duty no good Christian cared to neglect. Nothing
can be sweeter than to earn the gratitude of God by killing your own
enemies. Such a mingling of profit and revenge, of heaven for yourself
and damnation for those you dislike, is a temptation that your ordinary
Christian never resists.

According to the theologians, God, the Father of us all, wrote a letter
to his children. The children have always differed somewhat as to the
meaning of this letter. In consequence of these honest differences,
these brothers began to cut out each other's hearts. In every land,
where this letter from God has been read, the children to whom and for
whom it was written have been filled with hatred and malice. They have
imprisoned and murdered each other, and the wives and children of each
other. In the name of God every possible crime has been committed, every
conceivable outrage has been perpetrated. Brave men, tender and loving
women, beautiful girls, and prattling babes have been exterminated in
the name of Jesus Christ. For more than fifty generations the church
has carried the black flag. Her vengeance has been measured only by
her power. During all these years of infamy no heretic has ever been
forgiven. With the heart of a fiend she has hated; with the clutch of
avarice she has grasped; with the jaws of a dragon she has devoured;
pitiless as famine, merciless as fire, with the conscience of a serpent:
such is the history of the Church of God.

I do not say, and I do not believe, that Christians are as bad as their
creeds. In spite of church and dogma, there have been millions and
millions of men and women true to the loftiest and most generous
promptings of the human heart. They have been true to their convictions,
and, with a self-denial and fortitude excelled by none, have labored
and suffered for the salvation of men. Imbued with the spirit of
self-sacrifice, believing that by personal effort they could rescue at
least a few souls from the infinite shadow of hell, they have
cheerfully endured every hardship and scorned every danger. And yet,
notwithstanding all this, they believed that honest error was a crime.
They knew that the Bible so declared, and they believed that all
unbelievers would be eternally lost. They believed that religion was
of God, and all heresy of the devil. They killed heretics in defence of
their own souls and the souls of their children. They killed them
because, according to their idea, they were the enemies of God, and
because the Bible teaches that the blood of the unbeliever is a most
acceptable sacrifice to heaven.

Nature never prompted a loving mother to throw her child into the
Ganges. Nature never prompted men to exterminate each other for a
difference of opinion concerning the baptism of infants. These crimes
have been produced by religions filled with all that is illogical,
cruel and hideous. These religions were produced for the most part by
ignorance, tyranny and hypocrisy. Under the impression that the infinite
ruler and creator of the universe had commanded the destruction of
heretics and infidels, the church perpetrated all these crimes.

Men and women have been burned for thinking there is but one God; that
there was none; that the Holy Ghost is younger than God; that God was
somewhat older than his son; for insisting that good works will save a
man without faith; that faith will do without good works; for declaring
that a sweet babe will not be burned eternally, because its parents
failed to have its head wet by a priest; for speaking of God as
though he had a nose; for denying that Christ was his own father; for
contending that three persons, rightly added together, make more than
one; for believing in purgatory; for denying the reality of hell; for
pretending that priests can forgive sins; for preaching that God is an
essence; for denying that witches rode through the air on sticks;
for doubting the total depravity of the human heart; for laughing
at irresistible grace, predestination and particular redemption; for
denying that good bread could be made of the body of a dead man; for
pretending that the pope was not managing this world for God, and in the
place of God; for disputing the efficacy of a vicarious atonement; for
thinking the Virgin Mary was born like other people; for thinking that a
man's rib was hardly sufficient to make a good-sized woman; for denying
that God used his finger for a pen; for asserting that prayers are not
answered, that diseases are not sent to punish unbelief; for denying
the authority of the Bible; for having a Bible in their possession; for
attending mass, and for refusing to attend; for wearing a surplice; for
carrying a cross, and for refusing; for being a Catholic, and for being
a Protestant; for being an Episcopalian, a Presbyterian, a Baptist, and
for being a Quaker. In short, every virtue has been a crime, and every
crime a virtue. The church has burned honesty and rewarded hypocrisy.
And all this, because it was commanded by a book—a book that men had
been taught implicitly to believe, long, before they knew one word that
was in it They had been taught that to doubt the truth of this book—to
examine it, even—was a crime of such enormity that it could not be
forgiven, either in this world or in the next The Bible was the real
persecutor. The Bible burned heretics, built dungeons, founded the
Inquisition, and trampled upon all the liberties of men.

How long, O how long will mankind worship a book? How long will they
grovel in the dust before the ignorant legends of the barbaric past?
How long, O how long will they pursue phantoms in a darkness deeper than
death?

Unfortunately for the world, about the beginning of the sixteenth
century, a man by the name of Gerard Chauvin was married to Jeanne
Lefranc, and still more unfortunately for the world, the fruit of this
marriage was a son, called John Chauvin, who afterwards became famous as
John Calvin, the founder of the Presbyterian Church.

This man forged five fetters for the brain. These fetters he called
points. That is to say, predestination, particular redemption, total
depravity, irresistible grace, and the perseverance of the saints. About
the neck of each follower he put a collar bristling with these five iron
points. The presence of all these points on the collar is still the test
of orthodoxy in the church he founded. This man, when in the flush of
youth, was elected to the office of preacher in Geneva. He at once,
in union with Farel, drew up a condensed statement of the Presbyterian
doctrine, and all the citizens of Geneva, on pain of banishment, were
compelled to take an oath that they believed this statement. Of this
proceeding Calvin very innocently remarked that it produced great
satisfaction. A man named Caroli had the audacity to dispute with
Calvin. For this outrage he was banished.

To show you what great subjects occupied the attention of Calvin, it is
only necessary to state that he furiously discussed the question as to
whether the sacramental bread should be leavened or unleavened. He drew
up laws regulating the cut of the citizens' clothes, and prescribing
their diet, and all those whose garments were not in the Calvin fashion
were refused the sacrament. At last, the people becoming tired of this
petty theological tyranny, banished Calvin. In a few years, however,
he was recalled and received with great enthusiasm. After this he was
supreme, and the will of Calvin became the law of Geneva.

Under his benign administration, James Gruet was beheaded because he had
written some profane verses. The slightest word against Calvin or his
absurd doctrines was punished as a crime.

In 1553 a man was tried at Vienne by the Catholic Church for heresy. He
was convicted and sentenced to death by burning. It was apparently his
good fortune to escape. Pursued by the sleuth hounds of intolerance he
fled to Geneva for protection. A dove flying from hawks, sought safety
in the nest of a vulture. This fugitive from the cruelty of Rome asked
shelter from John Calvin, who had written a book in favor of religious
toleration. Servetus had forgotten that this book was written by Calvin
when in the minority; that it was written in weakness to be forgotten
in power; that it was produced by fear instead of principle. He did not
know that Calvin had caused his arrest at Vienne, in France, and had
sent a copy of his work, which was claimed to be blasphemous, to the
archbishop. He did not then know that the Protestant Calvin was
acting as one of the detectives of the Catholic Church, and had been
instrumental in procuring his conviction for heresy. Ignorant of all
this unspeakable infamy, he put himself in the power of this very
Calvin. The maker of the Presbyterian creed caused the fugitive
Serve-tus to be arrested for blasphemy. He was tried. Calvin was his
accuser. He was convicted and condemned to death by fire. On the morning
of the fatal day, Calvin saw him, and Servetus, the victim, asked
forgiveness of Calvin, the murderer. Servetus was bound to the stake,
and the fagots were lighted. The wind carried the flames somewhat away
from his body, so that he slowly roasted for hours. Vainly he implored
a speedy death. At last the flames climbed round his form; through smoke
and fire his murderers saw a white heroic face. And there they watched
until a man became a charred and shriveled mass.

Liberty was banished from Geneva, and nothing but Presbyterianism was
left. Honor, justice, mercy, reason and charity were all exiled, but
the five points of predestination, particular redemption, irresistible
grace, total depravity, and the certain perseverance of the saints
remained instead.

Calvin founded a little theocracy, modeled after the Old Testament, and
succeeded in erecting the most detestable government that ever existed,
except the one from which it was copied.

Against all this intolerance, one man, a minister, raised his voice. The
name of this man should never be forgotten. It was Castalio. This brave
man had the goodness and the courage to declare the innocence of honest
error. He was the first of the so-called reformers to take this noble
ground. I wish I had the genius to pay a fitting tribute to his memory.
Perhaps it would be impossible to pay him a grander compliment than to
say, Castalio was in all things the opposite of Calvin. To plead for the
right of individual judgment was considered a crime, and Castalio was
driven from Geneva by John Calvin. By him he was denounced as a child of
the devil, as a dog of Satan, as a beast from hell, and as one who, by
this horrid blasphemy of the innocence of honest error, crucified Christ
afresh, and by him he was pursued until rescued by the hand of death.

Upon the name of Castalio, Calvin heaped every epithet, until his malice
was nearly satisfied and his imagination entirely exhausted. It is
impossible to conceive how human nature can become so frightfully
perverted as to pursue a fellow-man with the malignity of a fiend,
simply because he is good, just, and generous.

Calvin was of a pallid, bloodless complexion, thin, sickly, irritable,
gloomy, impatient, egotistic, tyrannical, heartless, and infamous. He
was a strange compound of revengeful morality, malicious forgiveness,
ferocious charity, egotistic humility, and a kind of hellish justice.
In other words, he was as near like the God of the Old Testament as his
health permitted.

The best thing, however, about the Presbyterians of Geneva was, that
they denied the power of the Pope, and the best thing about the Pope
was, that he was not a Presbyterian.

The doctrines of Calvin spread rapidly, and were eagerly accepted by
multitudes on the continent; but Scotland, in a few years, became the
real fortress of Presbyterianism. The Scotch succeeded in establishing
the same kind of theocracy that flourished in Geneva. The clergy took
possession and control of everybody and everything. It is impossible to
exaggerate the mental degradation, the abject superstition of the people
of Scotland during the reign of Presbyterianism. Heretics were hunted
and devoured as though they had been wild beasts. The gloomy insanity of
Presbyterianism took possession of a great majority of the people. They
regarded their ministers as the Jews did Moses and Aaron. They believed
that they were the especial agents of God, and that whatsoever they
bound in Scotland would be bound in heaven. There was not one particle
of intellectual freedom. No man was allowed to differ with the church,
or to even contradict a priest. Had Presbyterianism maintained its
ascendency, Scotland would have been peopled by savages to-day.

The revengeful spirit of Calvin took possession of the Puritans, and
caused them to redden the soil of the New World with the brave blood of
honest men. Clinging to the five points of Calvin, they too established
governments in accordance with the teachings of the Old Testament. They
too attached the penalty of death to the expression of honest thought.
They too believed their church supreme, and exerted all their power to
curse this continent with a spiritual despotism as infamous as it was
absurd. They believed with Luther that universal toleration is universal
error, and universal error is universal hell. Toleration was denounced
as a crime.

Fortunately for us, civilization has had a softening effect even upon
the Presbyterian Church. To the ennobling influence of the arts and
sciences the savage spirit of Calvinism has, in some slight degree,
succumbed. True, the old creed remains substantially as it was written,
but by a kind of tacit understanding it has come to be regarded as a
relic of the past. The cry of "heresy" has been growing fainter and
fainter, and, as a consequence, the ministers of that denomination
have ventured, now and then, to express doubts as to the damnation of
infants, and the doctrine of total depravity. The fact is, the old ideas
became a little monotonous to the people. The fall of man, the scheme of
redemption and irresistible grace, began to have a familiar sound. The
preachers told the old stories while the congregations slept Some of the
ministers became tired of these stories themselves. The five points grew
dull, and they felt that nothing short of irresistible grace could bear
this endless repetition. The outside world was full of progress, and in
every direction men advanced, while this church, anchored to a creed,
idly rotted at the shore. Other denominations, imbued some little with
the spirit of investigation, were springing up on every side, while the
old Presbyterian ark rested on the Ararat of the past, filled with the
theological monsters of another age.

Lured by the splendors of the outer world, tempted by the achievements
of science, longing to feel the throb and beat of the mighty march of
the human race, a few of the ministers of this conservative denomination
were compelled, by irresistible sense, to say a few words in harmony
with the splendid ideas of to-day.

These utterances have upon several occasions so nearly wakened some of
the members that, rubbing their eyes, they have feebly inquired whether
these grand ideas were not somewhat heretical. These ministers found
that just in the proportion that their orthodoxy decreased, their
congregations increased. Those who dealt in the pure unadulterated
article found themselves demonstrating the five points to a less number
of hearers than they had points. Stung to madness by this bitter truth,
this galling contrast, this harassing fact, the really orthodox have
raised the cry of heresy, and expect with this cry to seal the lips
of honest men. One of the Presbyterian ministers, and one who has been
enjoying the luxury of a little honest thought, and the real rapture of
expressing it, has already been indicted, and is about to be tried by
the Presbytery of Illinois. He is charged—

First. With having neglected to preach that most comforting and
consoling truth, the eternal damnation of the soul.

Surely, that man must be a monster who could wish to blot this blessed
doctrine out and rob earth's wretched children of this blissful hope!

Who can estimate the misery that has been caused by this most infamous
doctrine of eternal punishment? Think of the lives it has blighted—of
the tears it has caused—of the agony it has produced. Think of the
millions who have been driven to insanity by this most terrible of
dogmas. This doctrine renders God the basest and most cruel being in
the universe. Compared with him, the most frightful deities of the most
barbarous and degraded tribes are miracles of goodness and mercy. There
is nothing more degrading than to worship such a god. Lower than this
the soul can never sink. If the doctrine of eternal damnation is true,
let me share the fate of the unconverted; let me have my portion in
hell, rather than in heaven with a god infamous enough to inflict
eternal misery upon any of the sons of men.

Second. With having spoken a few kind words of Robert Collyer and John
Stuart Mill.

I have the honor of a slight acquaintance with Robert Collyer. I have
read with pleasure some of his exquisite productions. He has a brain
full of the dawn, the head of a philosopher, the imagination of a poet
and the sincere heart of a child.

Is a minister to be silenced because he speaks fairly of a noble and
candid adversary? Is it a crime to compliment a lover of justice, an
advocate of liberty; one who devotes his life to the elevation of man,
the discovery of truth, and the promulgation of what he believes to be
right?

Can that tongue be palsied by a presbytery that praises a self-denying
and heroic life? Is it a sin to speak a charitable word over the grave
of John Stuart Mill? Is it heretical to pay a just and graceful tribute
to departed worth? Must the true Presbyterian violate the sanctity of
the tomb, dig open the grave and ask his God to curse the silent dust?
Is Presbyterianism so narrow that it conceives of no excellence, of no
purity of intention, of no spiritual and moral grandeur outside of its
barbaric creed? Does it still retain within its stony heart all the
malice of its founder? Is it still warming its fleshless hands at the
flames that consumed Servetus? Does it still glory in the damnation of
infants, and does it still persist in emptying the cradle in order that
perdition may be filled? Is it still starving the soul and famishing
the heart? Is it still trembling and shivering, crouching and crawling
before its ignorant Confession of Faith?

Had such men as Robert Collyer and John Stuart Mill been present at the
burning of Servetus, they would have extinguished the flames with their
tears. Had the presbytery of Chicago been there, they would have quietly
turned their backs, solemnly divided their coat tails, and warmed
themselves.

Third. With having spoken disparagingly of the doctrine of
predestination.

If there is any dogma that ought to be protected by law, predestination
is that doctrine. Surely it is a cheerful, joyous thing, to one who is
laboring, struggling, and suffering in this weary world, to think that
before he existed; before the earth was; before a star had glittered in
the heavens; before a ray of light had left the quiver of the sun, his
destiny had been irrevocably fixed, and that for an eternity before his
birth he had been doomed to bear eternal pain.

Fourth. With failing to preach the efficacy of a "vicarious
sacrifice."

Suppose a man had been convicted of murder, and was about to be
hanged—the governor acting as the executioner; and suppose that just
as the doomed man was about to suffer death some one in the crowd
should step forward and say, "I am willing to die in the place of that
murderer. He has a family, and I have none." And suppose further, that
the governor should reply, "Come forward, young man, your offer is
accepted. A murder has been committed and somebody must be hung,
and your death will satisfy the law just as well as the death of the
murderer." What would you then think of the doctrine of "vicarious
sacrifice"?

This doctrine is the consummation of two outrages—forgiving one crime
and committing another.

Fifth. With having inculcated a phase of the doctrine commonly known
as "evolution," or "development".

The church believes and teaches the exact opposite of this doctrine.
According to the philosophy of theology, man has continued to degenerate
for six thousand years. To teach that there is that in nature which
impels to higher forms and grander ends, is heresy, of course. The
Deity will damn Spencer and his "Evolution," Darwin and his "Origin
of Species," Bastian and his "Spontaneous Generation," Huxley and his
"Protoplasm," Tyndall and his "Prayer Gauge," and will save those, and
those only, who declare that the universe has been cursed, from the
smallest atom to the grandest star; that everything tends to evil and to
that only, and that the only perfect thing in nature is the Presbyterian
Confession of Faith.

Sixth. With having intimated that the reception of Socrates and
Penelope at heaven's gate was, to say the least, a trifle more cordial
than that of Catharine II.

Penelope, waiting patiently and trustfully for her lord's return,
delaying her suitors, while sadly weaving and unweaving the shroud of
Laertes, is the most perfect type of wife and woman produced by the
civilization of Greece.

Socrates, whose life was above reproach and whose death was beyond all
praise, stands to-day, in the estimation of every thoughtful man, at
least the peer of Christ.

Catharine II. assassinated her husband. Stepping upon his corpse, she
mounted the throne. She was the murderess of Prince Iwan, grand nephew
of Peter the Great, who was imprisoned for eighteen years, and who
during all that time saw the sky but once. Taken all in all, Catharine
was probably one of the most intellectual beasts that ever wore a crown.

Catharine, however, was the head of the Greek Church, Socrates was
a heretic and Penelope lived and died without having once heard of
"particular redemption" or of "irresistible grace."

Seventh. With repudiating the idea of a "call" to the ministry, and
pretending that men were "called" to preach as they were to the other
avocations of life.

If this doctrine is true, God, to say the least of it, is an exceedingly
poor judge of human nature. It is more than a century since a man of
true genius has been found in an orthodox pulpit. Every minister is
heretical just to the extent that intellect is above the average. The
Lord seems to be satisfied with mediocrity; but the people are not.

An old deacon, wishing to get rid of an unpopular preacher, advised him
to give up the ministry and turn his attention to something else. The
preacher replied that he could not conscientiously desert the pulpit, as
he had had a "call" to the ministry. To which the deacon replied, "That
may be so, but it's very unfortunate for you, that when God called you
to preach, he forgot to call anybody to hear you."

There is nothing more stupidly egotistic than the claim of the clergy
that they are, in some divine sense set apart to the service of the
Lord; that they have been chosen, and sanctified; that there is an
infinite difference between them and persons employed in secular
affairs. They teach us that all other professions must take care of
themselves; that God allows anybody to be a doctor, a lawyer, statesman,
soldier, or artist; that the Motts and Coopers—the Mansfields and
Marshalls—the Wilberforces and Sumners—the Angelos and Raphaels, were
never honored by a "call." They chose their professions and won their
laurels without the assistance of the Lord. All these men were left free
to follow their own inclinations, while God was busily engaged selecting
and "calling" priests, rectors, elders, ministers and exhorters.

Eighth. With having doubted that God was the author of the 109th
Psalm.

The portion of that psalm which carries with it the clearest and most
satisfactory evidences of inspiration, and which has afforded almost
unspeakable consolation to the Presbyterian Church, is as follows:

Set thou a wicked man over him; and let Satan stand at his right hand.

When he shall be judged, let him be condemned; and let his prayer become
sin.

Let his days be few; and let another take his office.

Let his children be fatherless and his wife a widow.

Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg; let them seek their
bread also out of their desolate places.

Let the extortioner catch all that he hath; and let the stranger spoil
his labor.

Let there be none to extend mercy unto him; neither let there be any to
favor his fatherless children.

Let his posterity be cut off: and in the generation following let their
name be blotted out.

But do thou for me, O God the Lord, for Thy name's sake; because Thy
mercy is good, deliver Thou me.... I will greatly praise the Lord with
my mouth.

Think of a God wicked and malicious enough to inspire this prayer. Think
of one infamous enough to answer it.

Had this inspired psalm been found in some temple erected for the
worship of snakes, or in the possession of some cannibal king, written
with blood upon the dried skins of babes, there would have been a
perfect harmony between its surroundings and its sentiments.

No wonder that the author of this inspired psalm coldly received
Socrates and Penelope, and reserved his sweetest smiles for Catharine
the Second.

Ninth. With having said that the battles in which the Israelites
engaged, with the approval and command of Jehovah, surpassed in cruelty
those of Julius Cæsar.

Was it Julius Cæsar who said, "And the Lord our God delivered him before
us; and we smote him, and his sons, and all his people. And we took all
his cities, and utterly destroyed the men, and the women, and the little
ones, of every city, we left none to remain"?

Did Julius Cæsar send the following report to the Roman senate? "And we
took all his cities at that time, there was not a city which we took not
from them, three-score cities, all the region of Argob, the kingdom of
Og in Bashan. All these cities were fenced with high walls, gates, and
bars; beside unwalled towns a great many. And we utterly destroyed
them, as we did unto Sihon, king of Heshbon, utterly destroying the men,
women, and children of every city."

Did Cæsar take the city of Jericho "and utterly destroy all that was
in the city, both men and women, young and old"? Did he smite "all the
country of the hills, and of the south, and of the vale, and of the
springs, and all their kings, and leave none remaining that breathed, as
the Lord God had commanded"?

Search the records of the whole world, find out the history of every
barbarous tribe, and you can find no crime that touched a lower depth of
infamy than those the Bible's God commanded and approved. For such a God
I have no words to express my loathing and contempt, and all the words
in all the languages of man would scarcely be sufficient. Away with such
a God! Give me Jupiter rather, with Io and Europa, or even Siva with his
skulls and snakes.

Tenth. With having repudiated the doctrine of "total depravity."

What a precious doctrine is that of the total depravity of the human
heart! How sweet it is to believe that the lives of all the good and
great were continual sins and perpetual crimes; that the love a mother
bears her child is, in the sight of God, a sin; that the gratitude of
the natural heart is simple meanness; that the tears of pity are impure;
that for the unconverted to live and labor for others is an offence to
heaven; that the noblest aspirations of the soul are low and groveling
in the sight of God; that man should fall upon his knees and ask
forgiveness, simply for loving his wife and child, and that even the act
of asking forgiveness is in fact a crime!

Surely it is a kind of bliss to feel that every woman and child in the
wide world, with the exception of those who believe the five points, or
some other equally cruel creed, and such children as have been baptized,
ought at this very moment to be dashed down to the lowest glowing gulf
of hell.

Take from the Christian the history of his own church—leave that
entirely out of the question—and he has no argument left with which to
substantiate the total depravity of man.

Eleventh. With having doubted the "perseverance of the saints."

I suppose the real meaning of this doctrine is, that Presbyterians are
just as sure of going to heaven as all other folks are of going to hell.
The real idea being, that it all depends upon the will of God, and not
upon the character of the person to be damned or saved; that God has the
weakness to send Presbyterians to Paradise, and the justice to doom the
rest of mankind to eternal fire.

It is admitted that no unconverted brain can see the least particle of
sense in this doctrine; that it is abhorrent to all who have not been
the recipients of a "new heart;" that only the perfectly good can
justify the perfectly infamous.

It is contended that the saints do not persevere of their own free
will—that they are entitled to no credit for persevering; but that
God forces them to persevere, while on the other hand, every crime is
committed in accordance with the secret will of God, who does all things
for his own glory.

Compared with this doctrine, there is no other idea, that has ever been
believed by man, that can properly be called absurd.

Twelfth. With having spoken and written somewhat lightly of the idea
of converting the heathen with doctrinal sermons.

Of all the failures of which we have any history or knowledge, the
missionary effort is the most conspicuous. The whole question has been
decided here, in our own country, and conclusively settled. We have
nearly exterminated the Indians, but we have converted none. From the
days of John Eliot to the execution of the last Modoc, not one Indian
has been the subject of irresistible grace or particular redemption.
The few red men who roam the western wilderness have no thought or care
concerning the five points of Calvin. They are utterly oblivious to
the great and vital truths contained in the Thirty-nine Articles, the
Saybrook platform, and the resolutions of the Evangelical Alliance. No
Indian has ever scalped another on account of his religious belief. This
of itself shows conclusively that the missionaries have had no effect
Why should we convert the heathen of China and kill our own? Why should
we send missionaries across the seas, and soldiers over the plains?
Why should we send Bibles to the east and muskets to the west? If it
is impossible to convert Indians who have no religion of their own; no
prejudice for or against the "eternal procession of the Holy Ghost," how
can we expect to convert a heathen who has a religion; who has plenty
of gods and Bibles and prophets and Christs, and who has a religious
literature far grander than our own? Can we hope with the story of
Daniel in the lions' den to rival the stupendous miracles of India? Is
there anything in our Bible as lofty and loving as the prayer of the
Buddhist? Compare your "Confession of Faith" with the following: "Never
will I seek nor receive private individual salvation—never enter into
final peace alone; but forever and everywhere will I live and strive for
the universal redemption of every creature throughout all worlds. Until
all are delivered, never will I leave the world of sin, sorrow, and
struggle, but will remain where I am."

Think of sending an average Presbyterian to convert a man who daily
offers this tender, this infinitely generous, this incomparable prayer.
Think of reading the 109th Psalm to a heathen who has a Bible of his own
in which is found this passage: "Blessed is that man and beloved of all
the gods, who is afraid of no man, and of whom no man is afraid."

Why should you read even the New Testament to a Hindu, when his own
Chrishna has said, "If a man strike thee, and in striking drop his
staff, pick it up and hand it to him again"? Why send a Presbyterian to
a Sufi, who says, "Better one moment of silent contemplation and inward
love, than seventy thousand years of outward worship"? "Whoso would
carelessly tread one worm that crawls on earth, that heartless one is
darkly alienate from God; but he that, living, embraceth all things
in his love, to live with him God bursts all bounds above, below." Why
should we endeavor to thrust our cruel and heartless theology upon one
who prays this prayer: "O God, show pity toward the wicked; for on
the good thou hast already bestowed thy mercy by having created them
virtuous"?

Compare this prayer with the curses and cruelties of the Old
Testament—with the infamies commanded and approved by the being whom we
are taught to worship as a God—and with the following tender product
of Presbyterianism: "It may seem absurd to human wisdom that God should
harden, blind, and deliver up some men to a reprobate sense; that he
should first deliver them over to evil, and then condemn them for that
evil; but the believing spiritual man sees no absurdity in all this,
knowing that God would be never a whit less good even though he should
destroy all men."

Of all the religions that have been produced by the egotism, the malice,
the ignorance and ambition of man, Presbyterianism is the most hideous.

But what shall I say more, for the time would fail me to tell of
Sabellianism, of a "Modal Trinity," and the "Eternal Procession of the
Holy Ghost"?

Upon these charges, a minister is to be tried, here in Chicago; in
this city of pluck and progress—this marvel of energy—this miracle
of nerve. The cry of "heresy," here, sounds like a wail from the Dark
Ages—a shriek from the Inquisition, or a groan from the grave of
Calvin.

Another effort is being made to enslave a man.

It is claimed that every member of the church has solemnly agreed
never to outgrow the creed; that he has pledged himself to remain an
intellectual dwarf. Upon this condition the church agrees to save his
soul, and he hands over his brains to bind the bargain. Should a fact be
found inconsistent with the creed, he binds himself to deny the fact
and curse the finder. With scraps of dogmas and crumbs of doctrine, he
agrees that his soul shall be satisfied forever. What an intellectual
feast the Confession of Faith must be! It reminds one of the dinner
described by Sydney Smith, where everything was cold except the water,
and everything sour except the vinegar.

Every member of a church promises to remain orthodox, that is to
say—stationary. Growth is heresy. Orthodox ideas are the feathers that
have been moulted by the eagle of progress. They are the dead leaves
under the majestic palm, while heresy is the bud and blossom at the top.

Imagine a vine that grows at one end and decays at the other. The
end that grows is heresy, the end that rots is orthodox The dead are
orthodox, and your cemetery is the most perfect type of a well regulated
church. No thought, no progress, no heresy there. Slowly and silently,
side by side, the satisfied members peacefully decay. There is only this
difference—the dead do not persecute.

And what does a trial for heresy mean? It means that the church says to
a heretic, "Believe as I do, or I will withdraw my support. I will not
employ you. I will pursue you until your garments are rags; until your
children cry for bread; until your cheeks are furrowed with tears. I
will hunt you to the very portals of the tomb, and then my God will do
the rest I will not imprison you. I will not burn you. The law prevents
my doing that. I helped make the law, not however to protect you, nor
to deprive me of the right to exterminate you but in order to keep
other churches from exterminating me." A trial for heresy means that the
spirit of persecution still lingers in the church; that it still denies
the right of private judgment; that it still thinks more of creed than
truth, and that it is still determined to prevent the intellectual
growth of man. It means that churches are shambles in which are bought
and sold the souls of men. It means that the church is still guilty of
the barbarity of opposing thought with force. It means that if it had
the power, the mental horizon would be bounded by a creed; that it would
bring again the whips and chains and dungeon keys, the rack and fagot of
the past.

But let me tell the church it lacks the power. There have been, and
still are, too many men who own themselves—too much thought, too much
knowledge for the church to grasp again the sword of power. The church
must abdicate. For the Eglon of superstition Science has a message from
Truth.

The heretics have not thought and suffered and died in vain. Every
heretic has been, and is, a ray of light. Not in vain did Voltaire, that
great man, point from the foot of the Alps the finger of scorn at every
hypocrite in Europe. Not in vain were the splendid utterances of the
infidels, while beyond all price are the discoveries of science.

The church has impeded, but it has not and it cannot stop the onward
march of the human race. Heresy cannot be burned, nor imprisoned, nor
starved. It laughs at presbyteries and synods, at ecumenical councils
and the impotent thunders of Sinai. Heresy is the eternal dawn, the
morning star, the glittering herald of the day. Heresy is the last and
best thought. It is the perpetual New World, the unknown sea, toward
which the brave all sail. It is the eternal horizon of progress.

Heresy extends the hospitalities of the brain to a new thought.

Heresy is a cradle; orthodoxy, a coffin.

Why should man be afraid to think, and why should he fear to express his
thoughts?

Is it possible that an infinite Deity is unwilling that a man should
investigate the phenomena by which he is surrounded? Is it possible that
a god delights in threatening and terrifying men? What glory, what honor
and renown a god must win on such a field! The ocean raving at a drop; a
star envious of a candle; the sun jealous of a fire-fly.

Go on, presbyteries and synods, go on! Thrust the heretics out of the
church—that is to say, throw away your brains,—put out your eyes. The
infidels will thank you. They are willing to adopt your exiles. Every
deserter from your camp is a recruit for the army of progress. Cling to
the ignorant dogmas of the past; read the 109th Psalm; gloat over the
slaughter of mothers and babes; thank God for total depravity; shower
your honors upon hypocrites, and silence every minister who is touched
with that heresy called genius.

Be true to your history. Turn out the astronomers, the geologists, the
naturalists, the chemists, and all the honest scientists. With a whip of
scorpions, drive them all out. We want them all. Keep the ignorant,
the superstitious, the bigoted, and the writers of charges and
specifications.

Keep them, and keep them all. Repeat your pious platitudes in the drowsy
ears of the faithful, and read your Bible to heretics, as kings read
some forgotten riot-act to stop and stay the waves of revolution.
You are too weak to excite anger. We forgive your efforts as the sun
forgives a cloud—as the air forgives the breath you waste.

How long, O how long, will man listen to the threats of God, and shut
his eyes to the splendid possibilities of Nature? How long, O how long
will man remain the cringing slave of a false and cruel creed?

By this time the whole world should know that the real Bible has not yet
been written, but is being written, and that it will never be finished
until the race begins its downward march, or ceases to exist.

The real Bible is not the work of inspired men, nor prophets, nor
apostles, nor evangelists, nor of Christs. Every man who finds a fact,
adds, as it were, a word to this great book. It is not attested
by prophecy, by miracles or signs. It makes no appeal to faith, to
ignorance, to credulity or fear. It has no punishment for unbelief, and
no reward for hypocrisy. It appeals to man in the name of demonstration.
It has nothing to conceal. It has no fear of being read, of being
contradicted, of being investigated and understood. It does not pretend
to be holy, or sacred; it simply claims to be true. It challenges the
scrutiny of all, and implores every reader to verify every line for
himself. It is incapable of being blasphemed. This book appeals to
all the surroundings of man. Each thing that exists testifies of its
perfection. The earth, with its heart of fire and crowns of snow; with
its forests and plains, its rocks and seas; with its every wave and
cloud; with its every leaf and bud and flower, confirms its every word,
and the solemn stars, shining in the infinite abysses, are the eternal
witnesses of its truth.
