{
  "schema": "tga.work.v1",
  "identifier": "dresden:vol-12:tribute-to-courtlandt-palmer",
  "slug": "tribute-to-courtlandt-palmer",
  "title": "A Tribute to Courtlandt Palmer",
  "subtitle": "Memorial tribute to the founder of the Nineteenth Century Club.",
  "excerpt": "Memorial tribute to Courtlandt Palmer — freethinker, philanthropist, and founder of the Nineteenth Century Club of New York.",
  "year": 1888,
  "volume": 12,
  "category": "Tribute",
  "author": {
    "name": "Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "wikidata": "Q360326",
    "viaf": "44331023"
  },
  "isPartOf": {
    "title": "The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "edition": "Dresden Edition",
    "publisher": "C. P. Farrell",
    "year": 1900
  },
  "license": "https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/",
  "url": "https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/tribute-to-courtlandt-palmer/",
  "wordCount": 1314,
  "body": "A Tribute to Courtlandt Palmer\n\nNew York, July 26, 1888.\n\nMY FRIENDS: A thinker of pure thoughts, a speaker of brave words, a doer\nof generous deeds has reached the silent haven that all the dead have\nreached, and where the voyage of every life must end; and we, his\nfriends, who even now are hastening after him, are met to do the last\nkind acts that man may do for man—to tell his virtues and to lay with\ntenderness and tears lay ashes in the sacred place of rest and peace.\n\nSome one has said, that in the open hands of death we find only what\nthey gave away.\n\nLet us believe that pure thoughts, brave words and generous deeds can\nnever die. Let us believe that they bear fruit and add forever to the\nwell-being of the human race. Let us believe that a noble, self-denying\nlife increases the moral wealth of man, and gives assurance that the\nfuture will be grander than the past.\n\nIn the monotony of subservience, in the multitude of blind followers,\nnothing is more inspiring than a free and independent man—one who gives\nand asks reasons; one who demands freedom and gives what he demands; one\nwho refuses to be slave or master. Such a man was Courtlandt Palmer, to\nwhom we pay the tribute of respect and love.\n\nHe was an honest man—he gave the rights he claimed. This was the\nfoundation on which he built. To think for himself—to give his thought\nto others; this was to him not only a privilege, not only a right, but a\nduty.\n\nHe believed in self-preservation—in personal independence—that is to\nsay, in manhood.\n\nHe preserved the realm of mind from the invasion of brute force, and\nprotected the children of the brain from the Herod of authority.\n\nHe investigated for himself the questions, the problems and the\nmysteries of life. Majorities were nothing to him. No error could be old\nenough—popular, plausible or profitable enough—to bribe his judgment\nor to keep his conscience still.\n\nHe knew that, next to finding truth, the greatest joy is honest search.\n\nHe was a believer in intellectual hospitality, in the fair exchange of\nthought, in good mental manners, in the amenities of the soul, in the\nchivalry of discussion.\n\nHe insisted that those who speak should hear; that those who question\nshould answer; that each should strive not for a victory over others,\nbut for the discovery of truth, and that truth when found should be\nwelcomed by every human soul.\n\nHe knew that truth has no fear of investigation—of being understood.\nHe knew that truth loves the day—that its enemies are ignorance,\nprejudice, egotism, bigotry, hypocrisy, fear and darkness, and that\nintelligence, candor, honesty, love and light are its eternal friends.\n\nHe believed in the morality of the useful—that the virtues are the\nfriends of man—the seeds of joy.\n\nHe knew that consequences determine the quality of actions, and \"that\nwhatsoever a man sows that shall he also reap.\"\n\nIn the positive philosophy of Auguste Comte he found the framework of\nhis creed. In the conclusions of that great, sublime and tender soul he\nfound the rest, the serenity and the certainty he sought.\n\nThe clouds had fallen from his life. He saw that the old faiths were\nbut phases in the growth of man—that out from the darkness, up from\nthe depths, the human race through countless ages and in every land had\nstruggled toward the ever-growing light.\n\nHe felt that the living are indebted to the noble dead, and that each\nshould pay his debt; that he should pay it by preserving to the extent\nof his power the good he has, by destroying the hurtful, by adding to\nthe knowledge of the world, by giving better than he had received; and\nthat each should be the bearer of a torch, a giver of light for all that\nis, for all to be.\n\nThis was the religion of duty perceived, of duty within the reach of\nman, within the circumference of the known—a religion without mystery,\nwith experience for the foundation of belief—a religion understood by\nthe head and approved by the heart—a religion that appealed to reason\nwith a definite end in view—the civilization and development of the\nhuman race by legitimate, adequate and natural means—that is to say, by\nascertaining the conditions of progress and by teaching each to be noble\nenough to live for all.\n\nThis is the gospel of man; this is the gospel of this world; this is the\nreligion of humanity; this is a philosophy that comtemplates not with\nscorn, but with pity, with admiration and with love all that man has\ndone, regarding, as it does, the past with all its faults and virtues,\nits sufferings, its cruelties and crimes, as the only road by which the\nperfect could be reached.\n\nHe denied the supernatural—the phantoms and the ghosts that fill\nthe twilight-land of fear. To him and for him there was but one\nreligion—the religion of pure thoughts, of noble words, of self-denying\ndeeds, of honest work for all the world—the religion of Help and Hope.\n\nFacts were the foundation of his faith; history was his prophet; reason\nhis guide; duty his deity; happiness the end; intelligence the means.\n\nHe knew that man must be the providence of man.\n\nHe did not believe in Religion and Science, but in the Religion of\nScience—that is to say, wisdom glorified by love, the Savior of our\nrace—the religion that conquers prejudice and hatred, that drives all\nsuperstition from the mind, that ennobles, lengthens and enriches life,\nthat drives from every home the wolves of want, from every heart the\nfiends of selfishness and fear, and from every brain the monsters of the\nnight.\n\nHe lived and labored for his fellow-men. He sided with the weak and poor\nagainst the strong and rich. He welcomed light. His face was ever toward\nthe East.\n\nAccording to his light he lived. \"The world was his country—to do good\nhis religion.\" There is no language to express a nobler creed than this;\nnothing can be grander, more comprehensive, nearer perfect. This was the\ncreed that glorified his life and made his death sublime.\n\nHe was afraid to do wrong, and for that reason was not afraid to die.\n\nHe knew that the end was near. He knew that his work was done. He stood\nwithin the twilight, within the deepening gloom, knowing that for the\nlast time the gold was fading from the West and that there could not\nfall again within his eyes the trembling lustre of another dawn. He knew\nthat night had come, and yet his soul was filled with light, for in that\nnight the memory of his generous deeds shone out like stars.\n\nWhat can we say? What words can solve the mystery of life, the mystery\nof death? What words can justly pay a tribute to the man who lived\nto his ideal, who spoke his honest thought, and who was turned aside\nneither by envy, nor hatred, nor contumely, nor slander, nor scorn, nor\nfear?\n\nWhat words will do that life the justice that we know and feel?\n\nA heart breaks, a man dies, a leaf falls in the far forest, a babe is\nborn, and the great world sweeps on.\n\nBy the grave of man stands the angel of Silence.\n\nNo one can tell which is better—Life with its gleams and shadows, its\nthrills and pangs, its ecstasy and tears, its wreaths and thorns, its\ncrowns, its glories and Golgothas, or Death, with its peace, its rest,\nits cool and placid brow that hath within no memory or fear of grief or\npain.\n\nFarewell, dear friend. The world is better for your life—The world is\nbraver for your death.\n\nFarewell! We loved you living, and we love you now.\n"
}