Divorce
Replies to Cardinal Gibbons, Bishop Potter, and others.

by Robert G. Ingersoll
(1889)

From The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll (Dresden Edition, 1900–1902), Volume 6.
Source: https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/divorce/
Public domain. CC0 / Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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A LITTLE while ago the North American Review propounded the following
questions:

1. Do you believe in the principle of divorce under any circumstances?

2. Ought divorced people to be allowed to marry, under any
circumstances?

3. What is the effect of divorce on the integrity of the family?

4. Does the absolute prohibition of divorce, where it exists, contribute
to the moral purity of society?

These questions were answered in the November number of the Review,
1889, by Cardinal Gibbons, Bishop Henry C. Potter and myself. In
the December number, the same questions were again answered by W. E.
Gladstone, Justice Bradley and Senator Dolph. In the following month
Mary A. Livermore, Amelia E. Barr, Rose Terry Cooke, Elizabeth Stuart
Phelps and Jennie June gave their opinions upon the subject of divorce;
and in the February number of this year, Margaret Lee and the Rev.
Phillip S. Moxom contributed articles upon this subject.

I propose to review these articles, and, first, let me say a few words
in answer to Cardinal Gibbons.

Reply to Cardinal Gibbons

The indissolubility of marriage was a reaction from polygamy. Man
naturally rushes from one extreme to the other. The Cardinal informs us
that "God instituted in Paradise the marriage state, and sanctified it;"
that "he established its law of unity and declared its indissolubility."
The Cardinal, however, accounts for polygamy and divorce by saying that,
"marriage suffered in the fall."

If it be true that God instituted marriage in the Garden of Eden, and
declared its unity and indissolubility, how do you account for the fact
that this same God afterwards upheld polygamy? How is it that he forgot
to say anything on the subject when he gave the Ten Commandments to
Moses? How does it happen that in these commandments he puts women on an
equality with other property—"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife,
or thy neighbor's ox, or anything that is thy neighbor's"? How did it
happen that Jacob, who was in direct communication with God, married,
not his deceased wife's sister, but both sisters, while both were
living? Is there any way of accounting for the fact that God upheld
concubinage?

Neither is it true that "Christ reasserted in clear and unequivocal
terms, the sanctity, unity, and indissolubility of marriage." Neither is
it true that "Christ gave to this state an added holiness and a dignity
higher far than it had 'from the beginning.'" If God declared the
unity and indissolubility of marriage in the Garden of Eden, how was it
possible for Christ to have "added a holiness and dignity to marriage
higher far than it had from the beginning"? How did Christ make marriage
a sacrament? There is nothing on that subject in the new Testament;
besides, Christ did apparently allow divorce, for one cause at least.
He is reported to have said: "Whosoever putteth away his wife, save for
fornication, causeth her to commit adultery."

The Cardinal answers the question, "Can divorce from the bonds of
marriage ever be allowed?" with an emphatic theological "NO," and as a
reason for this "no," says, "Thus saith the Lord."

It is true that we regard Mormonism as a national disgrace, and that
we so regard it because the Mormons are polygamists. At the same time,
intelligent people admit that polygamy is no worse in Utah, than it was
in Palestine—no worse under Joseph Smith, than under Jehovah—that
it has been and must be forever the same, in all countries and in all
times. The Cardinal takes the ground that "there are two species of
polygamy—simultaneous and successive," and yet he seems to regard
both species with equal horror. If a wife dies and the husband marries
another woman, is not that successive polygamy?

The Cardinal takes the ground that while no dissolution of the marriage
bond should be allowed, yet for grave causes a temporary or permanent
separation from bed and board may be obtained, and these causes he
enumerates as "mutual consent, adultery, and grave peril of soul or
body." To those, however, not satisfied with this doctrine, and who are
"so unhappily mated and so constituted that for them no relief can come
save from absolute divorce," the Cardinal says, in a very sympathetic
way, that he "Will not linger here to point out to such the need of
seeking from a higher than earthly power, the grace to suffer and be
strong."

At the foundation and upon the very threshold of this inquiry, one thing
ought to be settled, and that is this: Are we to answer these questions
in the light of human experience; are we to answer them from the
standpoint of what is better here, in this world, for men and
women—what is better for society here and now—or are we to ask: What
is the will of God? And in order to find out what is this will of God,
are we to ask the church, or are we to read what are called "the sacred
writings" for ourselves? In other words, are these questions to be
settled by theological and ecclesiastical authority, or by the common
sense of mankind? No one, in my judgment, should marry for the sake of
God, and no one should be divorced for the sake of God, and no man and
woman should live together as husband and wife, for the sake of God.
God being an infinite being, cannot be rendered unhappy by any action of
man, neither can his well-being be increased; consequently, the will of
God has nothing whatever to do with this matter. The real question then
must be: What is best for man?

Only the other day, a husband sought out his wife and with his own hand
covered her face with sulphuric acid, and in a moment afterward she was
blind. A Cardinal of the Catholic Church tells this woman, sitting in
darkness, that it is her duty to "suffer and be strong"; that she must
still remain the wife of this wretch; that to break the bond that binds
them together, would be an act of sacrilege. So, too, two years ago, a
husband deserted his wife in Germany. He came to this country. She was
poor. She had two children—one a babe. Holding one in her arm, and
leading the other by the hand, she walked hundreds of miles to the shore
of the sea. Overcome by fatigue, she was taken sick, and for months
remained in a hospital. Having recovered, she went to work, and finally
got enough money to pay her passage to New York. She came to this city,
bringing her children with her. Upon her arrival, she commenced a
search for her husband. One day overcome by exertion, she fainted in the
street. Persons took pity upon her and carried her upstairs into a room.
By a strange coincidence, a few moments afterward her husband entered.
She recognized him. He fell upon her like a wild beast, and threw
her down the stairs. She was taken up from the pavement bleeding, and
carried to a hospital.

The Cardinal says to this woman: Remain the wife of this man; it will be
very pleasing to God; "suffer and be strong." But I say to this woman:
Apply to some Court; get a decree of absolute divorce; cling to your
children, and if at any time hereafter some good and honest man offers
you his hand and heart, and you can love him, accept him and build
another home, to the end that you may sit by your own fireside, in your
old age, with your children about you.

It is not true that the indissolubility of marriage preserves the virtue
of mankind. The fact is exactly the opposite. If the Cardinal wishes to
know why there are more divorces now than there were fifty or a hundred
years ago, let me tell him: Women are far more intelligent—some of
them are no longer the slaves either of husbands, or priests. They are
beginning to think for themselves. They can see no good reason why
they should sacrifice their lives to please Popes or Gods. They are
no longer deceived by theological prophecies. They are not willing to
suffer here, with the hope of being happy beyond the clouds—they want
their happiness now.

Reply to Bishop Potter

Bishop Potter does not agree with the Cardinal, yet they both study
substantially the same bible—both have been set apart for the purpose
of revealing the revelation. They are the persons whose duty it is to
enlighten the common people. Cardinal Gibbons knows that he represents
the only true church, and Bishop Potter is just as sure that he occupies
that position. What is the ordinary man to do?

The Cardinal states, without the slightest hesitation, that "Christ made
marriage a sacrament—made it the type of his own never-ending union
with his one sinless spouse, the church." The Bishop does not agree
with the Cardinal. He says: "Christ's words about divorce are not to be
construed as a positive law, but as expressing the ideal of marriage,
and corresponding to his words about eunuchs, which not everybody can
receive." Ought not the augurs to agree among themselves? What is a man
who has only been born once, to do?

The Cardinal says explicitly that marriage is a sacrament, and the
Bishop cites Article xxv., that "matrimony is not to be accounted for
a sacrament of the gospel," and then admits that "this might seem to
reduce matrimony to a civil contract." For the purpose of bolstering up
that view, he says, "The first rubric in the Form of Solemnization of
Matrimony declares that the minister is left to the direction of those
laws in every thing that regards a civil contract between the parties.'"
He admits that "no minister is allowed, as a rule, to solemnize the
marriage of any man or woman who has a divorced husband or wife still
living." As a matter of fact, we know that hundreds of Episcopalians do
marry where a wife or a husband is still living, and they are not turned
out of the Episcopal Church for this offence. The Bishop admits that the
church can do very little on the subject, but seems to gather a little
consolation from the fact, that "the penalty for breach of this law
might involve, for the officiating clergyman, deposition from the
ministry—for the offending man or woman exclusion from the sacraments,
which, in the judgment of a very large number of the clergy, involves
everlasting damnation."

The Cardinal is perfectly satisfied that the prohibition of divorce is
the foundation of morality, and the Bishop is equally certain that "the
prohibition of divorce never prevents illicit sexual connections."

The Bishop also gives us the report of a committee of the last General
Convention, forming Appendix xiii of the Journal. This report, according
to the Bishop, is to the effect "that the Mosaic law of marriage is
still binding upon the church unless directly abrogated by Christ
himself, that it-was abrogated by him only so far that all divorce was
forbidden by him excepting for the cause of fornication; that a woman
might not claim divorce for any reason whatever; that the marriage of a
divorced person until the death of the other party, is wholly forbidden;
that marriage is not merely a civil contract but a spiritual and
supernatural union, requiring for its mutual obligations a supernatural
divine grace, and that such grace is only imparted in the sacrament of
matrimony."

The most beautiful thing about this report is, that a woman might not
claim divorce for any reason whatever. I must admit that the report is
in exact accordance with the words of Jesus Christ. On the other hand,
the Bishop, not to leave us entirely without hope, says that "there is
in his church another school, equally earnest and sincere in its zeal
for the integrity of the family, which would nevertheless repudiate the
greater part of the above report."

There is one thing, however, that I was exceedingly glad to see, and
that is, that according to the Bishop the ideas of the early church are
closely connected with theories about matter, and about the inferiority
of woman, and about married life, which are no longer believed. The
Bishop has, with great clearness, stated several sides of this question;
but I must say, that after reading the Cardinal and the Bishop, the
earnest theological seeker after truth would find himself, to say the
least of it, in some doubt.

As a matter of fact, who cares what the Old Testament says upon this
subject? Are we to be bound forever by the ancient barbarians?

Mr. Gladstone takes the ground, first, "that marriage is essentially a
contract for life, and only expires when life itself expires"; second,
"that Christian marriage involves a vow before God"; third, "that no
authority has been given to the Christian Church to cancel such a vow";
fourth, "that it lies beyond the province of tie civil legislature,
which, from the necessity of things, has a veto within the limits of
reason, upon the making of it, but has no competency to annul it when
once made"; fifth, "that according to the laws of just interpretation,
remarriage is forbidden by the text of Holy Scripture"; and sixth, "that
while divorce of any kind impairs the integrity of the family, divorce
with remarriage destroys it root and branch; that the parental and the
conjugal relations are joined together by the hand of the Almighty
no less than the persons united by the marriage tie, to one another."
First. Undoubtedly, a real marriage was never entered into unless the
parties expected to live together as long as they lived. It does not
enter into the imagination of the real lover that the time is coming
when he is to desert the being he adores, neither does it enter into the
imagination of his wife, or of the girl about to become a wife. But how
and in what way, does a Christian marriage involve a vow before God?
Is God a party to the contract? If yes, he ought to see to it that the
contract is carried out. If there are three parties—the man, the woman,
and God—each one should be bound to do something, and what is God
bound to do? Is he to hold the man to his contract, when the woman has
violated hers? Is it his business to hold the woman to the contract,
when the man has violated his? And what right has he to have anything
to say on the subject, unless he has agreed to do something by reason of
this vow? Otherwise, it would be simply a nudum pactum—a vow without
consideration.

Mr. Gladstone informs us that no authority has been given to the
Christian Church to cancel such a vow. If he means by that, that God has
not given any such authority to the Christian Church, I most cheerfully
admit it.*
  • Note.—This abrupt termination, together with the
    unfinished replies to Justice Bradley and Senator Dolph,
    which follow, shows that the author must have been
    interrupted in his work, and on next taking it up concluded
    that the colloquial and concrete form would better serve his
    turn than the more formal and didactic style above employed.
    He thereupon dictated his reply to the Gibbon and Gladstone
    arguments in the following form which will be regarded as a
    most interesting instance of the author's wonderful
    versatility of style.
    This unfinished matter was found among Col. Ingersoll's
    manuscripts, and is given as transcribed from the
    stenographic notes of Mr. I. N. Baker, his secretary,
    without revision by the author.

Justice Bradley

Cardinal Gibbons, Bishop Potter, and Mr. Gladstone represent the
theological side—that is to say, the impracticable, the supernatural,
the unnatural. After reading their opinions, it is refreshing to read
those of Justice Bradley. It is like coming out of the tomb into the
fresh air.

Speaking of the law, whether regarded as divine or human or both,
Justice Bradley says: "I know no other law on the subject but the moral
law, which does not consist of arbitrary enactments and decrees, but
is adapted to our condition as human beings. This is so, whether it
is conceived of as the will of an all-wise creator, or as the voice of
humanity speaking from its experience, its necessities and its higher
instincts. And that law surely does not demand that the injured party
to the marriage bond should be forever tied to one who disregards
and violates every obligation that it imposes—to one with whom it is
impossible to cohabit—to one whose touch is contamination. Nor does
it demand that such injured party, if legally free, should be forever
debarred from forming other ties through which the lost hopes of
happiness for life may be restored. It is not reason, and it can not
be law—divine, or moral—that unfaithfulness, or willful and obstinate
desertion, or persistent cruelty of the stronger party, should afford no
ground for relief.......If no redress be legalized, the law itself will
be set at defiance, and greater injury to soul and body will result from
clandestine methods of relief."

Surely, this is good, wholesome, practical common sense.

Senator Dolph

Senator Dolph strikes a strong blow, and takes the foundation from under
the idiotic idea of legal separation without divorce. He says: "As there
should be no partial divorce, which leaves the parties in the condition
aptly described by an eminent jurist as 'a wife without a husband and
a husband without a wife,' so, as a matter of public expediency, and
in the interest of public morals, whenever and however the marriage
is dissolved, both parties should be left free to remarry." Again:
"Prohibition of remarriage is likely to injure society more than the
remarriage of the guilty party;" and the Senator says, with great force:
"Divorce for proper causes, free from fraud and collusion, conserves the
moral integrity of the family."

In answering the question as to whether absolute prohibition of divorce
tends to morality or immorality, the Senator cites the case of South
Carolina. In that State, divorces were prohibited, and in consequence
of this prohibition, the proportion of his property which a married man
might give to his concubine was regulated by law.

The Argument Continued, in Colloquial Form

Those who have written on the subject of divorce seem to be divided into
two classes—the supernaturalists and the naturalists. The first class
rely on tradition, inspired books, the opinions of theologians as
expressed in creeds, and the decisions of ecclesiastical tribunals. The
second class take into account the nature of human beings, their own
experience, and the facts of life, as they know them. The first class
live for another world; the second, for this—the one in which we live.

The theological theorists regard men and women as depraved, in
consequence of what they are pleased to call "the fall of man," while
the men and women of common sense know that the race has slowly and
painfully progressed through countless years of suffering and toil. The
priests insist that marriage is a sacrament; the philosopher, that it is
a contract.

The question as to the propriety of granting divorces cannot now be
settled by quoting passages of Scripture, or by appealing to creeds,
or by citing the acts of legislatures or the decisions of courts. With
intelligent millions, the Scriptures are no longer considered as of the
slightest authority. They pay no more regard to the Bible than to the
Koran, the Zend-Avestas, or the Popol Vuh—neither do they care for the
various creeds that were formulated by barbarian ancestors, nor for the
laws and decisions based upon the savagery of the past.

In the olden times when religions were manufactured—when priest-craft
and lunacy governed the world—the women were not consulted. They were
regarded and treated as serfs and menials—looked upon as a species of
property to be bought and sold like the other domestic animals. This
view or estimation of woman was undoubtedly in the mind of the author of
the Ten Commandments when he said: "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's
wife,—nor his ox."

Such, however, has been the advance of woman in all departments of
knowledge—such advance having been made in spite of the efforts of the
church to keep her the slave of faith—that the obligations, rights
and remedies growing out of the contract of marriage and its violation,
cannot be finally determined without her consent and approbation.
Legislators and priests must consult with wives and mothers. They must
become acquainted with their wants and desires—with their profound
aversions* their pure hatreds, their loving self-denials, and, above
all, with the religion of the body that moulds and dominates their
lives.

We have learned to suspect the truth of the old, because it is old, and
for that reason was born in the days of slavery and darkness—because
the probability is that the parents of the old were ignorance
and superstition. We are beginning to be wise enough to take into
consideration the circumstances of our own time—the theories and
aspirations of the present—the changed conditions of the world—the
discoveries and inventions that have modified or completely changed
the standards of the greatest of the human race. We are on the eve of
discovering that nothing should be done for the sake of gods, but all
for the good of man—nothing for another world—everything for this.

All the theories must be tested by experience, by facts. The moment a
supernatural theory comes in contact with a natural fact, it falls to
chaos. Let us test all these theories about marriage and divorce—all
this sacramental, indissoluble imbecility, with a real case—with a fact
in life.

A few years ago a man and woman fell in love and were married in a
German village. The woman had a little money and this was squandered by
the husband. When the money was gone, the husband deserted his wife and
two little children, leaving them to live as best they might. She had
honestly given her hand and heart, and believed that if she could only
see him once more—if he could again look into her eyes—he would
come back to her. The husband had fled to America. The wife lived four
hundred miles from the sea. Taking her two little children with her, she
traveled on foot the entire distance. For eight weeks she journeyed, and
when she reached the sea—tired, hungry, worn out, she fell unconscious
in the street. She was taken to the hospital, and for many weeks fought
for life upon the shore of death. At last she recovered, and sailed for
New York. She was enabled to get just enough money to buy a steerage
ticket.

A few days ago, while wandering in the streets of New York in search of
her husband, she sank unconscious to the sidewalk. She was taken into
the home of another. In a little while her husband entered. He caught
sight of his wife. She ran toward him, threw her arms about his neck,
and cried: "At last I have found you!" "With an oath, he threw her to
the floor; he bruised her flesh with his feet and fists; he dragged her
into the hall, and threw her into the street."

Let us suppose that this poor wife sought out Cardinal Gibbons and the
Right Honorable William E. Gladstone, for the purpose of asking their
advice. Let us imagine the conversation:

The Wife. My dear Cardinal, I was married four years ago. I loved
my husband and I was sure that he loved me. Two babes were born. He
deserted me without cause. He left me in poverty and want. Feeling that
he had been overcome by some delusion—tempted by something more than
he could bear, and dreaming that if I could look upon his face again he
would return, I followed-him on foot. I walked, with my children in my
arms, four hundred miles. I crossed the sea. I found him at last—and
instead of giving me again his love, he fell upon me like a wild beast.
He bruised and blackened my flesh. He threw me from him, and for my
proffered love I received curses and blows. Another man, touched by
the evidence of my devotion, made my acquaintance—came to my
relief—supplied my wants—gave me and my children comfort, and then
offered me his hand and heart, in marriage. My dear Cardinal, I told
him that I was a married woman, and he told me that I should obtain a
divorce, and so I have come to ask your counsel.

The Cardinal. My dear woman, God instituted in Paradise the marriage
state and sanctified it, and he established its law of unity and
declared its indissolubility.

The Wife. But, Mr. Cardinal, if it be true that "God instituted
marriage in the Garden of Eden, and declared its unity and
indissolubility," how do you account for the fact that this same God
afterward upheld polygamy? How is it that he forgot to say anything on
the subject when he gave the Ten Commandments to Moses?

The Cardinal. You must remember that the institution of marriage
suffered in the fall of man.

The Wife. How does that throw any light upon my case? That was long
ago. Surely, I was not represented at that time, and is it right that I
should be punished for what was done by others in the very beginning of
the world?

The Cardinal. Christ reasserted in clear and unequivocal terms, the
sanctity, unity and indissolubility of marriage, and Christ gave to this
state an added holiness, and a dignity higher far than it had from the
beginning.

The Wife. How did it happen that Jacob, while in direct communication
with God, married, not his deceased wife's sister, but both sisters
while both were living? And how, my dear Cardinal, do you account for
the fact that God upheld concubinage?

The Cardinal. Marriage is a sacrament. You seem to ask me whether
divorce from the bond of marriage can ever be allowed? I answer with an
emphatic theological No; and as a reason for this No, I say, Thus saith
the Lord. To allow a divorce and to permit the divorced parties, or
either of them, to remarry, is one species of polygamy. There are two
kinds—the simultaneous and the successive.

The Wife. But why did God allow simultaneous polygamy in Palestine?
Was it any better in Palestine then than it is in Utah now? If a wife
dies, and the husband marries another wife, is not that successive
polygamy?

The Cardinal. Curiosity leads to the commission of deadly sins.
We should be satisfied with a Thus saith the Lord, and you should be
satisfied with a Thus saith the Cardinal. If you have the right to
inquire—to ask questions—then you take upon yourself the right of
deciding after the questions have been answered. This is the end of
authority. This undermines the cathedral. You must remember the words of
our Lord: "What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder."

The Wife. Do you really think that God joined us together? Did he at
the time know what kind of man he was joining to me? Did he then know
that he was a wretch, an ingrate, a kind of wild beast? Did he then know
that this husband would desert me—leave me with two babes in my arms,
without raiment and without food? Did God put his seal upon this bond
of marriage, upon this sacrament, and it was well-pleasing in his sight
that my life should be sacrificed, and does he leave me now to crawl
toward death, in poverty and tears?

The Cardinal. My dear woman, I will not linger here to point out to
you the need of seeking from a higher than an earthly power the grace to
suffer and be strong.

The Wife. Mr. Cardinal, am I under any obligation to God? Will it
increase the happiness of the infinite for me to remain homeless
and husbandless? Another offers to make me his wife and to give me a
home,—to take care of my children and to fill my heart with joy. If I
accept, will the act lessen the felicity or ecstasy of heaven? Will it
add to the grief of God? Will it in any way affect his well-being?

The Cardinal. Nothing that we can do can effect the well-being of God.
He is infinitely above his children.

The Wife. Then why should he insist upon the sacrifice of my life? Mr.
Cardinal, you do not seem to sympathize with me. You do not understand
the pangs I feel. You are too far away from my heart, and your words
of consolation do not heal the bruise; they leave me as I now leave
you—without hope. I will ask the advice of the Right Honorable William
E. Gladstone.

The Wife. Mr. Gladstone, you know my story, and so I ask that you will
give me the benefit of your knowledge, of your advice.

Mr. Gladstone. My dear woman, marriage is essentially a contract for
life, and only expires when life itself expires. I say this because
Christian marriage involves a vow before God, and no authority has been
given to the Christian Church to cancel such a vow.

The Wife. Do you consider that God was one of the contracting parties
in my marriage? Must all vows made to God be kept? Suppose the vow was
made in ignorance, in excitement—must it be absolutely fulfilled? Will
it make any difference to God whether it is kept or not? Does not an
infinite God know the circumstances under which every vow is made? Will
he not take into consideration the imperfections, the ignorance, the
temptations and the passions of his children? Will God hold a poor girl
to the bitter dregs of a mistaken bargain? Have I not suffered enough?
Is it necessary that my heart should break? Did not God know at the time
the vow was made that it ought not to have been made? If he feels toward
me as a father should, why did he give no warning? Why did he accept
the vow? Why did he allow a contract to be made giving only to death the
annulling power? Is death more merciful than God?

Mr. Gladstone. All vows that are made to God must be kept. Do you not
remember that Jephthah agreed to sacrifice the first one who came out of
his house to meet him, and that he fulfilled the vow, although in doing
so, he murdered his own daughter. God makes no allowance for ignorance,
for temptation, for passion—nothing. Besides, my dear woman, to
cancel the contract of marriage lies beyond the province of the civil
legislature; it has no competency to annul the contract of marriage when
once made.

The Wife. The man who has rescued me from the tyranny of my
husband—the man who wishes to build me a home and to make my life worth
living, wishes to make with me a contract of marriage. This will give my
babes a home.

Mr. Gladstone. My dear madam, while divorce of any kind impairs the
integrity of the family, divorce with remarriage destroys it root and
branch.

The Wife. The integrity of my family is already destroyed. My husband
deserted his home—left us in the very depths of want. I have in my
arms two helpless babes. I love my children, and I love the man who has
offered to give them and myself another fireside. Can you say that this
is only destruction? The destruction has already occurred. A remarriage
gives a home to me and mine.

Mr. Gladstone. But, my dear mistaken woman, the parental and the
conjugal relations are joined together by the hand of the Almighty.

The Wife. Do you believe that the Almighty was cruel enough, in my
case, to join the parental and the conjugal relations, to the end that
they should endure as long as I can bear the sorrow? If there were three
parties to my marriage, my husband, myself, and God, should each be
bound by the contract to do something? What did God bind himself to
do? If nothing, why should he interfere? If nothing, my vow to him
was without consideration. You are as cruel and unsympathetic, Mr.
Gladstone, as the Cardinal. You have not the imagination to put yourself
in my place.

Mr. Gladstone. My dear madam, we must be governed by the law of
Christ, and there must be no remarriage. The husband and wife must
remain husband and wife until a separation is caused by death.

The Wife. If Christ was such a believer in the sacredness of the
marriage relation, why did he offer rewards not only in this world, but
in the next, to husbands who would desert their wives and follow him?

Mr. Gladstone. It is not for us to inquire. God's ways are not our
ways.

The Wife. Nature is better than you. A mother's love is higher and
deeper than your philosophy. I will follow the instincts of my heart. I
will provide a home for my babes, and for myself. I will be freed from
the infamous man who betrayed me. I will become the wife of another—of
one who loves me—and after having filled his life with joy, I hope to
die in his arms, surrounded by my children.

A few months ago, a priest made a confession—he could carry his secret
no longer. He admitted that he was married—that he was the father of
two children—that he had violated his priestly vows. He was unfrocked
and cast out. After a time he came back and asked to be restored into
the bosom of the church, giving as his reason that he had abandoned his
wife and babes. This throws a flood of light on the theological view of
marriage.

I know of nothing equal to this, except the story of the Sandwich Island
chief who was converted by the missionaries, and wished to join the
church. On cross-examination, it turned out that he had twelve wives,
and he was informed that a polygamist could not be a Christian. The next
year he presented himself again for the purpose of joining the church,
and stated that he was not a polygamist—that he had only one wife. When
the missionaries asked him what he had done with the other eleven he
replied: "I ate them."

The indissoluble marriage was a reaction from polygamy. The church has
always pretended that it was governed by the will of God, and that for
all its dogmas it had a "thus saith the Lord." Reason and experience
were branded as false guides. The priests insisted that they were in
direct communication with the Infinite—that they spoke by the authority
of God, and that the duty of the people was to obey without question and
to submit with at least the appearance of gladness.

We now know that no such communication exists—that priests spoke
without authority, and that the duty of the people was and is to examine
for themselves. We now know that no one knows what the will of God
is, or whether or not such a being exists. We now know that nature has
furnished all the light there is, and that the inspired books are like
all books, and that their value depends on the truth, the beauty, and
the wisdom they contain. We also know that it is now impossible to
substantiate the supernatural. Judging from experience—reasoning from
known facts—we can safely say that society has no right to demand the
sacrifice of an innocent individual.

Society has no right, under the plea of self-preservation, to compel
women to remain the wives of men who have violated the contract of
marriage, and who have become objects of contempt and loathing to
their wives. It is not to the best interest of society to maintain such
firesides—such homes.

The time has not arrived, in my judgment, for the Congress of the United
States, under an amendment to the Constitution, to pass a general
law applicable to all the States, fixing the terms and conditions of
divorce. The States of the Union are not equally enlightened. Some are
far more conservative than others. Let us wait until a majority of the
States have abandoned the theological theories upon this subject.

Upon this question light comes from the West, where men have recently
laid the foundations of States, and where the people are not manacled
and burdened with old constitutions and statutes and decisions, and
where with a large majority the tendency is to correct the mistakes of
their ancestors.

Let the States in their own way solve this question, and the time will
come when the people will be ready to enact sensible and reasonable
laws touching this important subject, and then the Constitution can be
amended and the whole subject controlled by Federal law.

The law, as it now exists in many of the States, is to the last degree
absurd and cruel. In some States the husband can obtain a divorce on the
ground that the wife has been guilty of adultery, but the wife cannot
secure a divorce from the husband simply for the reason that he has been
guilty of the same offence. So, in most of the States where divorce
is granted on account of desertion for a certain number of years, the
husband can return on the last day of the time fixed, and the poor wife
who has been left in want is obliged to receive the wretch with open
arms. In some States nothing is considered cruelty that does not
endanger life or limb or health. The whole question is in great
confusion, but after all there are some States where the law is
reasonable, and the consequence is, that hundreds and thousands of
suffering wives are released from a bondage worse than death.

The idea that marriage is something more than a contract is at the
bottom of all the legal and judicial absurdities that surround this
subject. The moment that it is regarded from a purely secular standpoint
the infamous laws will disappear. We shall then take into consideration
the real rights and obligations of the parties to the contract of
marriage. We shall have some respect for the sacred feelings of
mothers—for the purity of woman—the freedom of the fireside—the real
democracy of the hearthstone and, above all, for love, the purest, the
profoundest and the holiest of all passions.

We shall no longer listen to priests who regard celibacy as a higher
state than marriage, nor to those statesmen who look upon a barbarous
code as the foundation of all law.

As long as men imagine that they have property in wives; that women can
be owned, body and mind; that it is the duty of wives to obey; that the
husband is the master, the source of authority—that his will is law,
and that he can call on legislators and courts to protect his
superior rights, that to enforce obedience the power of the State is
pledged—just so long will millions of husbands be arrogant, tyrannical
and cruel.

No gentleman will be content to have a slave for the mother of his
children. Force has no place in the world of love. It is impossible to
control likes and dislikes by law. No one ever did and no one ever can
love on compulsion. Courts can not obtain jurisdiction of the heart.

The tides and currents of the soul care nothing for the creeds.
People who make rules for the conduct of others generally break them
themselves. It is so easy to bear with fortitude the misfortunes of
others.

Every child should be well-born—well fathered and mothered. Society has
as great an interest in children as in parents. The innocent should not
be compelled by law to suffer for the crimes of the guilty. Wretched and
weeping wives are not essential to the welfare of States and Nations.

The church cries now "whom God hath joined together let not man put
asunder"; but when the people are really civilized the State will say:
"whom Nature hath put asunder let not man bind and manacle together."

Robert G. Ingersoll.
