Reply to Dr. Lyman Abbott
An answer to \"Flaws in Ingersollism.\"

by Robert G. Ingersoll
(1890)

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

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• This unfinished article was written as a reply to the Rev.
    Lyman Abbott's article entitled, "Flaws in Ingersollism,"
    which was printed in the April number of the North American
    Review for 1890.

IN your Open Letter to me, published in this Review, you attack what
you supposed to be my position, and ask several questions to which
you demand answers; but in the same letter, you state that you wish no
controversy with me. Is it possible that you wrote the letter to prevent
a controversy? Do you attack only those with whom you wish to live in
peace, and do you ask questions, coupled with a request that they remain
unanswered?

In addition to this, you have taken pains to publish in your own paper,
that it was no part of your design in the article in the _North American
Review_, to point out errors in my statements, and that this design
was distinctly disavowed in the opening paragraph of your article. You
further say, that your simple object was to answer the question "What is
Christianity?" May I be permitted to ask why you addressed the letter to
me, and why do you now pretend that, although you did address a letter
to me, I was not in your mind, and that you had no intention of pointing
out any flaws in my doctrines or theories? Can you afford to occupy this
position?

You also stated in your own paper, The Christian Union, that the title
of your article had been changed by the editor of the Review, without
your knowledge or consent; leaving it to be inferred that the title
given to the article by you was perfectly consistent with your
statement, that it was no part of your design in the article in the
North American Review, to point out errors in my (Ingersoll's)
statements; and that your simple object was to answer the question, What
is Christianity? And yet, the title which you gave your own article was
as follows: "To Robert G. Ingersoll: A Reply."

First. We are told that only twelve crimes were punished by
death: idolatry, witchcraft, blasphemy, fraudulent prophesying,
Sabbath-breaking, rebellion against parents, resistance to judicial
officers, murder, homicide by negligence, adultery, incestuous
marriages, and kidnapping. We are then told that as late as the year
1600 there were 263 crimes capital in England.

Does not the world know that all the crimes or offences punishable
by death in England could be divided in the same way? For instance,
treason. This covered a multitude of offences, all punishable by death.
Larceny covered another multitude. Perjury—trespass, covered many
others. There might still be made a smaller division, and one who had
made up his mind to define the Criminal Code of England might have said
that there was only one offence punishable by death—wrong-doing.

The facts with regard to the Criminal Code of England are, that up to
the reign of George I. there were 167 offences punishable by death.
Between the accession of George I. and termination of the reign of
George III., there were added 56 new crimes to which capital punishment
was attached. So that when George IV. became king, there were 223
offences capital in England.

John Bright, commenting upon this subject, says:

"During all these years, so far as this question goes, our Government
was becoming more cruel and more barbarous, and we do not find, and
have not found, that in the great Church of England, with its fifteen
or twenty thousand ministers, and with its more than score of Bishops
in the House of Lords, there ever was a voice raised, or an organization
formed, in favor of a more merciful code, or in condemnation of the
enormous cruelties which our law was continually inflicting. Was not
Voltaire justified in saying that the English were the only people who
murdered by law?"

As a matter of fact, taking into consideration the situation of the
people, the number of subjects covered by law, there were far more
offences capital in the days of Moses, than in the reign of George IV.
Is it possible that a minister, a theologian of the nineteenth century,
imagines that he has substantiated the divine origin of the Old
Testament by endeavoring to show that the government of God was not
quite as bad as that of England?

Mr. Abbott also informs us that the reason Moses killed so many was,
that banishment from the camp during the wandering in the Wilderness was
a punishment worse than death. If so, the poor wretches should at least
have been given their choice. Few, in my judgment, would have chosen
death, because the history shows that a large majority were continually
clamoring to be led back to Egypt. It required all the cunning and power
of God to keep the fugitives from returning in a body. Many were killed
by Jehovah, simply because they wished to leave the camp—because
they longed passionately for banishment, and thought with joy of the
flesh-pots of Egypt, preferring the slavery of Pharaoh to the liberty
of Jehovah. The memory of leeks and onions was enough to set their faces
toward the Nile.

Second. I am charged with saying that the Christian missionaries say to
the heathen: "You must examine your religion—and not only so, but you
must reject it; and unless you do reject it, and in addition to such
rejection, adopt ours, you will be eternally damned." Mr. Abbott denies
the truth of this statement.

Let me ask him, If the religion of Jesus Christ is preached clearly and
distinctly to a heathen, and the heathen understands it, and rejects it
deliberately, unequivocally, and finally, can he be saved?

This question is capable of a direct answer. The reverend gentleman now
admits that an acceptance of Christianity is not essential to salvation.
If the acceptance of Christianity is not essential to the salvation of
the heathen who has heard Christianity preached—knows what its claims
are, and the evidences that support those claims, is the acceptance of
Christianity essential to the salvation of an adult intelligent citizen
of the United States? Will the reverend gentleman tell us, and without
circumlocution, whether the acceptance of Christianity is necessary to
the salvation of anybody? If he says that it is, then he admits that I
was right in my statement concerning what is said to the heathen. If he
says that it is not, then I ask him, What do you do with the following
passages of Scripture: "There is none other name given under heaven or
among men whereby we must be saved."

"Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature, and
whosoever believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved; and whosoever
believeth not shall be damned"?

I am delighted to know that millions of Pagans will be found to have
entered into eternal life without any knowledge of Christ or his
religion.

Another question naturally arises: If a heathen can hear and reject
the Gospel, and yet be saved, what will become of the heathen who never
heard of the Gospel? Are they all to be saved? If all who never heard
are to be saved, is it not dangerous to hear?—Is it not cruel to
preach? Why not stop preaching and let the entire world become heathen,
so that after this, no soul may be lost?

Third. You say that I desire to deprive mankind of their faith in
God, in Christ and in the Bible. I do not, and have not, endeavored to
destroy the faith of any man in a good, in a just, in a merciful God, or
in a reasonable, natural, human Christ, or in any truth that the Bible
may contain. I have endeavored—and with some degree of success—to
destroy the faith of man in the Jehovah of the Jews, and in the idea
that Christ was in fact the God of this universe. I have also endeavored
to show that there are many things in the Bible ignorant and cruel—that
the book was produced by barbarians and by savages, and that its
influence on the world has been bad.

And I do believe that life and property will be safer, that liberty will
be surer, that homes will be sweeter, and life will be more joyous, and
death less terrible, if the myth called Jehovah can be destroyed from
the human mind.

It seems to me that the heart of the Christian ought to burst into an
efflorescence of joy when he becomes satisfied that the Bible is only
the work of man; that there is no such place as perdition—that there
are no eternal flames—that men's souls are not to suffer everlasting
pain—that it is all insanity and ignorance and fear and horror. I
should think that every good and tender soul would be delighted to know
that there is no Christ who can say to any human being—to any father,
mother, or child—"Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire prepared for
the devil and his angels." I do believe that he will be far happier when
the Psalms of David are sung no more, and that he will be far better
when no one could sing the 109th Psalm without shuddering and horror.
These Psalms for the most part breathe the spirit of hatred, of revenge,
and of everything fiendish in the human heart. There are some good
lines, some lofty aspirations—these should be preserved; and to the
extent that they do give voice to the higher and holier emotions, they
should be preserved.

So I believe the world will be happier when the life of Christ, as it is
written now in the New Testament, is no longer believed.

Some of the Ten Commandments will fall into oblivion, and the world will
be far happier when they do. Most of these commandments are universal.
They were not discovered by Jehovah—they were not original with him.

"Thou shalt not kill," is as old as life. And for this reason a large
majority of people in all countries have objected to being murdered.
"Thou shalt not steal," is as old as industry. There never has been a
human being who was willing to work through the sun and rain and heat of
summer, simply for the purpose that some one who had lived in idleness
might steal the result of his labor. Consequently, in all countries
where it has been necessary to work, larceny has been a crime. "Thou
shalt not lie," is as old as speech. Men have desired, as a rule, to
know the truth; and truth goes with courage and candor. "Thou shalt not
commit adultery," is as old as love. "Honor thy father and thy mother,"
is as old as the family relation.

All these commandments were known among all peoples thousands and
thousands of years before Moses was born. The new one, "Thou shalt
worship no other Gods but me," is a bad commandment—because that God
was not worthy of worship. "Thou shalt make no graven image,"—a bad
commandment. It was the death of art. "Thou shalt do no work on the
Sabbath-day,"—a bad commandment; the object of that being, that
one-seventh of the time should be given to the worship of a monster,
making a priesthood necessary, and consequently burdening industry with
the idle and useless.

If Professor Clifford felt lonely at the loss of such a companion as
Jehovah, it is impossible for me to sympathize with his feelings. No one
wishes to destroy the hope of another life—no one wishes to blot out
any good that is, or that is hoped for, or the hope of which gives
consolation to the world. Neither do I agree with this gentleman when
he says, "Let us have the truth, cost what it may." I say: Let us have
happiness—well-being. The truth upon these matters is of but little
importance compared with the happiness of mankind. Whether there is, or
is not, a God, is absolutely unimportant, compared with the well-being
of the race. Whether the Bible is, or is not, inspired, is not of as
much consequence as human happiness.

Of course, if the Old and New Testaments are true, then human happiness
becomes impossible, either in this world, or in the world to come—that
is, impossible to all people who really believe that these books are
true. It is often necessary to know the truth, in order to prepare
ourselves to bear consequences; but in the metaphysical world, truth is
of no possible importance except as it affects human happiness.

If there be a God, he certainly will hold us to no stricter
responsibility about metaphysical truth than about scientific truth.
It ought to be just as dangerous to make a mistake in Geology as in
Theology—in Astronomy as in the question of the Atonement.

I am not endeavoring to overthrow any faith in God, but the faith in a
bad God. And in order to accomplish this, I have endeavored to show that
the question of whether an Infinite God exists, or not, is beyond the
power of the human mind. Anything is better than to believe in the God
of the Bible.

Fourth. Mr. Abbott, like the rest, appeals to names instead of to
arguments. He appeals to Socrates, and yet he does not agree with
Socrates. He appeals to Goethe, and yet Goethe was far from a Christian.
He appeals to Isaac Newton and to Mr. Gladstone—and after mentioning
these names, says, that on his side is this faith of the wisest, the
best, the noblest of mankind.

Was Socrates after all greater than Epicurus—had he a subtler mind—was
he any nobler in his life? Was Isaac Newton so much greater than
Humboldt—than Charles Darwin, who has revolutionized the thought of
the civilized world? Did he do the one-hundredth part of the good for
mankind that was done by Voltaire—was he as great a metaphysician as
Spinoza?

But why should we appeal to names?

In a contest between Protestantism and Catholicism are you willing
to abide by the tests of names? In a contest between Christianity and
Paganism, in the first century, would you have considered the question
settled by names? Had Christianity then produced the equals of the great
Greeks and Romans? The new can always be overwhelmed with names that
were in favor of the old. Sir Isaac Newton, in his day, could have been
overwhelmed by the names of the great who had preceded him. Christ was
overwhelmed by this same method—Moses and the Prophets were appealed
to as against this Peasant of Palestine. This is the argument of
the cemetery—this is leaving the open field, and crawling behind
gravestones.

Newton was understood to be, all his life, a believer in the Trinity;
but he dared not say what his real thought was. After his death there
was found among his papers an argument that he published against the
divinity of Christ. This had been published in Holland, because he was
afraid to have it published in England. How do we really know what the
great men of whom you speak believed, or believe?

I do not agree with you when you say that Gladstone is the greatest
statesman. He will not, in my judgment, for one moment compare with
Thomas Jefferson—with Alexander Hamilton—or, to come down to later
times, with Gambetta; and he is immeasurably below such a man as Abraham
Lincoln. Lincoln was not a believer. Gambetta was an atheist.

And yet, these names prove nothing. Instead of citing a name, and saying
that this great man—Sir Isaac Newton, for instance—believed in our
doctrine, it is far better to give the reasons that Sir Isaac Newton had
for his belief.

Nearly all organizations are filled with snobbishness. Each church has
a list of great names, and the members feel in duty bound to stand by
their great men.

Why is idolatry the worst of sins? Is it not far better to worship a God
of stone than a God who threatens to punish in eternal flames the most
of his children? If you simply mean by idolatry a false conception of
God, you must admit that no finite mind can have a true conception
of God—and you must admit that no two men can have the same false
conception of God, and that, as a consequence, no two men can worship
identically the same Deity. Consequently they are all idolaters.

I do not think idolatry the worst of sins. Cruelty is the worst of
sins. It is far better to worship a false God, than to injure your
neighbor—far better to bow before a monstrosity of stone, than to
enslave your fellow-men.

Fifth. I am glad that you admit that a bad God is worse than no God.
If so, the atheist is far better than the believer in Jehovah, and far
better than the believer in the divinity of Jesus Christ—because I am
perfectly satisfied that none but a bad God would threaten to say to any
human soul, "Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the
devil and his angels." So that, before any Christian can be better than
an atheist, he must reform his God.

The agnostic does not simply say, "I do not know." He goes another step,
and he says, with great emphasis, that you do not know. He insists that
you are trading on the ignorance of others, and on the fear of others.
He is not satisfied with saying that you do not know,—he demonstrates
that you do not know, and he drives you from the field of fact—he
drives you from the realm of reason—he drives you from the light, into
the darkness of conjecture—into the world of dreams and shadows, and he
compels you to say, at last, that your faith has no foundation in fact.

You say that religion tells us that "life is a battle with
temptation—the result is eternal life to the victors."

But what of the victims? Did your God create these victims, knowing
that they would be victims? Did he deliberately change the clay into
the man—into a being with wants, surrounded by difficulties and
temptations—and did he deliberately surround this being with
temptations that he knew he could not withstand, with obstacles that he
knew he could not overcome, and whom he knew at last would fall a victim
upon the field of death? Is there no hope for this victim? No remedy for
this mistake of your God? Is he to remain a victim forever? Is it not
better to have no God than such a God? Could the condition of this
victim be rendered worse by the death of God?

Sixth. Of course I agree with you when you say that character is worth
more than condition—that life is worth more than place. But I do not
agree with you when you say that being—that simple existence—is better
than happiness. If a man is not happy, it is far better not to be. I
utterly dissent from your philosophy of life. From my standpoint, I
do not understand you when you talk about self-denial. I can imagine a
being of such character, that certain things he would do for the one
he loved, would by others be regarded as acts of self-denial, but they
could not be so regarded by him. In these acts of so-called selfdenial,
he would find his highest joy.

This pretence that to do right is to carry a cross, has done an immense
amount of injury to the world. Only those who do wrong carry a cross. To
do wrong is the only possible self-denial.

The pulpit has always been saying that, although the virtuous and good,
the kind, the tender, and the loving, may have a very bad time here,
yet they will have their reward in heaven—having denied themselves the
pleasures of sin, the ecstasies of crime, they will be made happy in
a world hereafter; but that the wicked, who have enjoyed larceny, and
rascality in all its forms, will be punished hereafter.

All this rests upon the idea that man should sacrifice himself, not
for his fellow-men, but for God—that he should do something for
the Almighty—that he should go hungry to increase the happiness of
heaven—that he should make a journey to Our Lady of Loretto, with dried
peas in his shoes; that he should refuse to eat meat on Friday; that he
should say so many prayers before retiring to rest; that he should
do something that he hated to do, in order that he might win the
approbation of the heavenly powers. For my part, I think it much better
to feed the hungry, than to starve yourself.

You ask me, What is Christianity? You then proceed to partially answer
your own question, and you pick out what you consider the best, and call
that Christianity. But you have given only one side, and that side not
all of it good. Why did you not give the other side of Christianity—the
side that talks of eternal flames, of the worm that dieth not—the side
that denounces the investigator and the thinker—the side that promises
an eternal reward for credulity—the side that tells men to take no
thought for the morrow but to trust absolutely in a Divine Providence?

"Within thirty years after the crucifixion of Jesus, faith in his
resurrection had become the inspiration of the church." I ask you, Was
there a resurrection?

What advance has been made in what you are pleased to call the doctrine
of the brotherhood of man, through the instrumentality of the church?
Was there as much dread of God among the Pagans as there has been among
Christians?

I do not believe that the church is a conservator of civilization. It
sells crime on credit. I do not believe it is an educator of good will.
It has caused more war than all other causes. Neither is it a school of
a nobler reverence and faith. The church has not turned the minds of
men toward principles of justice, mercy and truth—it has destroyed the
foundation of justice. It does not minister comfort at the coffin—it
fills the mourners with fear. It has never preached a gospel of "Peace
on Earth"—it has never preached "Good Will toward men."

For my part, I do not agree with you when you say that: "The most
stalwart anti-Romanists can hardly question that with the Roman Catholic
Church abolished by instantaneous decree, its priests banished and its
churches closed, the disaster to American communities would be simply
awful in its proportions, if not irretrievable in its results."

I may agree with you in this, that the most stalwart anti-Romanists
would not wish to have the Roman Catholic Church abolished by tyranny,
and its priests banished, and its churches closed. But if the abolition
of that church could be produced by the development of the human mind;
and if its priests, instead of being banished, should become good and
useful citizens, and were in favor of absolute liberty of mind, then
I say that there would be no disaster, but a very wide and great and
splendid blessing. The church has been the Centaur—not Theseus; the
church has not been Hercules, but the serpent.

So I believe that there is something far nobler than loyalty to any
particular man. Loyalty to the truth as we perceive it—loyalty to our
duty as we know it—loyalty to the ideals of our brain and heart—is,
to my mind, far greater and far nobler than loyalty to the life of
any particular man or God. There is a kind of slavery—a kind of
abdication—for any man to take any other man as his absolute pattern
and to hold him up as the perfection of all life, and to feel that it
is his duty to grovel in the dust in his presence. It is better to feel
that the springs of action are within yourself—that you are poised upon
your own feet—and that you look at the world with your own eyes, and
follow the path that reason shows.

I do not believe that the world could be re-organized upon the simple
but radical principles of the Sermon on the Mount. Neither do I believe
that this sermon was ever delivered by one man. It has in it many
fragments that I imagine were dropped from many mouths. It lacks
coherence—it lacks form. Some of the sayings are beautiful, sublime and
tender; and others seem to be weak, contradictory and childish.

Seventh. I do not say that I do not know whether this faith is true, or
not. I say distinctly and clearly, that I know it is not true. I admit
that I do not know whether there is any infinite personality or
not, because I do not know that my mind is an absolute standard. But
according to my mind, there is no such personality; and according to
my mind, it is an infinite absurdity to suppose that there is such an
infinite personality. But I do know something of human nature; I do know
a little of the history of mankind; and I know enough to know that what
is known as the Christian faith, is not true. I am perfectly satisfied,
beyond all doubt and beyond all per-adventure, that all miracles are
falsehoods. I know as well as I know that I live—that others live—that
what you call your faith, is not true.

I am glad, however, that you admit that the miracles of the Old
Testament, or the inspiration of the Old Testament, are not essentials.
I draw my conclusion from what you say: "I have not in this paper
discussed the miracles, or the inspiration of the Old Testament; partly
because those topics, in my opinion, occupy a subordinate position in
Christian faith, and I wish to consider only essentials." At the same
time, you tell us that, "On historical evidence, and after a careful
study of the arguments on both sides, I regard as historical the events
narrated in the four Gospels, ordinarily regarded as miracles." At the
same time, you say that you fully agree with me that the order of nature
has never been violated or interrupted. In other words, you must believe
that all these so-called miracles were actually in accordance with the
laws, or facts rather, in nature.

Eighth. You wonder that I could write the following: "To me there is
nothing of any particular value in the Pentateuch. There is not, so
far as I know, a line in the Book of Genesis calculated to make a human
being better." You then call my attention to "The magnificent Psalm of
Praise to the Creator with which Genesis opens; to the beautiful legend
of the first sin and its fateful consequences; the inspiring story of
Abraham—the first selfexile for conscience sake; the romantic story
of Joseph the Peasant boy becoming a Prince," which you say "would have
attraction for any one if he could have found a charm in, for example,
the Legends of the Round Table."

The "magnificent Psalm of Praise to the Creator with which Genesis
opens" is filled with magnificent mistakes, and is utterly absurd.
"The beautiful legend of the first sin and its fateful consequences"
is probably the most contemptible story that was ever written, and the
treatment of the first pair by Jehovah is unparalleled in the cruelty of
despotic governments. According to this infamous account, God cursed the
mothers of the world, and added to the agonies of maternity. Not only
so, but he made woman a slave, and man something, if possible, meaner—a
master.

I must confess that I have very little admiration for Abraham. (Give
reasons.)

So far as Joseph is concerned, let me give you the history of
Joseph,—how he conspired with Pharaoh to enslave the people of Egypt.

You seem to be astonished that I am not in love with the character of
Joseph, as pictured in the Bible. Let me tell you who Joseph was.

It seems, from the account, that Pharaoh had a dream. None of his wise
men could give its meaning. He applied to Joseph, and Joseph, having
been enlightened by Jehovah, gave the meaning of the dream to Pharaoh.
He told the king that there would be in Egypt seven years of great
plenty, and after these seven years of great plenty, there would be
seven years of famine, and that the famine would consume the land.
Thereupon Joseph gave to Pharaoh some advice. First, he was to take up a
fifth part of the land of Egypt, in the seven plenteous years—he was to
gather all the food of those good years, and lay up corn, and he was to
keep this food in the cities. This food was to be a store to the land
against the seven years of famine. And thereupon Pharaoh said unto
Joseph, "Forasmuch as God hath showed thee all this, there is none
so discreet and wise as thou art: thou shalt be over my house, and
according unto thy word shall all my people be ruled: only in the throne
will I be greater than thou. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, See I have
set thee over all the land of Egypt."

We are further informed by the holy writer, that in the seven plenteous
years the earth brought forth by handfuls, and that Joseph gathered up
all the food of the seven years, which were in the land of Egypt, and
laid up the food in the cities, and that he gathered corn as the sand of
the sea. This was done through the seven plenteous years. Then commenced
the years of dearth. Then the people of Egypt became hungry, and they
cried to Pharaoh for bread, and Pharaoh said unto all the Egyptians, Go
unto Joseph. The famine was over all the face of the earth, and Joseph
opened the storehouses, and sold unto the Egyptians, and the famine
waxed sore in the land of Egypt. There was no bread in the land, and
Egypt fainted by reason of the famine. And Joseph gathered up all the
money that was found in the land of Egypt, by the sale of corn, and
brought the money to Pharaoh's house. After a time the money failed in
the land of Egypt, and the Egyptians came unto Joseph and said, "Give
us bread; why should we die in thy presence? for the money faileth." And
Joseph said, "Give your cattle, and I will give you for your cattle."
And they brought their cattle unto Joseph, and he gave them bread in
exchange for horses and flocks and herds, and he fed them with bread for
all their cattle for that year. When the year was ended, they came unto
him the second year, and said, "Our money is spent, our cattle are gone,
naught is left but our bodies and our lands." And they said to Joseph,
"Buy us, and our land, for bread, and we and our land will be servants
unto Pharaoh; and give us seed that we may live and not die, that the
land be not desolate." And Joseph bought all the land of Egypt for
Pharaoh; for the Egyptians sold every man his field, because the famine
prevailed over them. So the land became Pharaoh's. Then Joseph said to
the people, "I have bought you this day, and your land; lo, here is
seed for you, and ye shall sow the land." And thereupon the people said,
"Thou hast saved our lives; we will be Pharaoh's servants." "And Joseph
made it a law over the land of Egypt unto this day, that Pharaoh should
have the fifth part, _except the land of the priests only, which became
not Pharaoh's_."

Yet I am asked, by a minister of the nineteenth century, whether it is
possible that I do not admire the character of Joseph. This man received
information from God—and gave that information to Pharaoh, to the end
that he might impoverish and enslave a nation. This man, by means of
intelligence received from Jehovah, took from the people what they had,
and compelled them at last to sell themselves, their wives and their
children, and to become in fact bondmen forever. Yet I am asked by the
successor of Henry Ward Beecher, if I do not admire the infamous wretch
who was guilty of the greatest crime recorded in the literature of the
world.

So, it is difficult for me to understand why you speak of Abraham as "a
self-exile for conscience sake." If the king of England had told one of
his favorites that if he would go to North America he would give him
a territory hundreds of miles square, and would defend him in its
possession, and that he there might build up an empire, and the favorite
believed the king, and went, would you call him "a self-exile for
conscience sake"?

According to the story in the Bible, the Lord promised Abraham that if
he would leave his country and kindred, he would make of him a great
nation, would bless him, and make his name great, that he would bless
them that blessed Abraham, and that he would curse him whom Abraham
cursed; and further, that in him all the families of the earth should
be blest. If this is true, would you call Abraham "a self-exile for
conscience sake"? If Abraham had only known that the Lord was not to
keep his promise, he probably would have remained where he was—the fact
being, that every promise made by the Lord to Abraham, was broken.

Do you think that Abraham was "a self-exile for conscience sake" when he
told Sarah, his wife, to say that she was his sister—in consequence of
which she was taken into Pharaoh's house, and by reason of which Pharaoh
made presents of sheep and oxen and man servants and maid servants to
Abraham? What would you call such a proceeding now? What would you think
of a man who was willing that his wife should become the mistress of the
king, provided the king would make him presents?

Was it for conscience sake that the same subterfuge was adopted again,
when Abraham said to Abimelech, the King of Gerar, She is my sister—in
consequence of which Abimelech sent for Sarah and took her?

Mr. Ingersoll having been called to Montana, as counsel in a long and
important law suit, never finished this article.
