Modern Skepticism: A Journey Through the Land of Doubt and Back Again Part 21

What can be more natural,--what more plausible,--what more rational,--what more pious? Yet it means forgetfulness of G.o.d, forgetfulness of Christ, forgetfulness of duty, forgetfulness of immortality. It means self, and sin, and ruin. And so it is with a mult.i.tude of other sweet poems. One of the sweetest singers that ever received a poetic soul from G.o.d, ignores Christ and Christianity. His works are full of truth, but it is truth turned into a lie, and made to do the work of sin and death. It is Satan clad as an angel of light.

Every day a Sabbath, means no day a Sabbath. All places holy, means no place holy. All things wors.h.i.+p, means nothing wors.h.i.+p. All honest labor religious, means no labor religious. Freedom means license, contempt for virtue, enslavement to vice. Progress means falling back. Elevation means degradation. Liberality means leniency to error and evil, and severity towards truth and goodness. In short, darkness means light, and light means darkness; good means evil, and evil good; bitter means sweet, and sweet bitter. Reform means revolution, and renovation means degradation, and all these charming things mean wretchedness and ruin.

We must not be understood as condemning all the sentiments uttered by the great deceiver. Many of them are true and good. They are Christian.

Satan is too wise to preach unmitigated falsehood. He understands too well the art of using truth so as to serve the ends of falsehood. It is enough for him if he can sever men's souls from Christ, and truth from divine authority, and religion from Christianity, the Church, and the Bible. Allow him to do this, and he will discourse and sing to you a world of sweet words and lofty sentiments. Truth is the ladder by which men climb to G.o.d, and goodness, and heaven. But Satan has found out that there is a way _down_ the ladder as well as _up_, and that to praise the ladder to the descending crowd is the surest way to draw them ever further downward, till they lose themselves amid the blinding smoke of the abyss beneath. We love, we cherish every sweet word of truth, but we value nothing apart from G.o.d, and Christ, and Religion.

28. It is a bad thing when people are taught things in their youth that are not true. They are sure, when they become students, if they are honest and able, to find out the errors, and to lay them aside. And the mere habit of detecting and laying aside errors, has a tendency to make men skeptical. Now I had been taught a mult.i.tude of things in my youth that were not true, both with regard to the doctrines and the evidences of Christianity. These things I detected and set aside in riper years.

And I had so many things to set aside, that I came to look with suspicion on almost all my creed. The skeptical tendency got too strong for my habit of belief. I suspected where there was no good ground for suspicion. I rejected truth as well as error. I held in doubt doctrines that I ought to have cherished as my life. Change became too easy; judgment too hasty; and error and unbelief were naturally the result.

It is especially a bad thing when an earnest young student sees signs of carelessness in religious writers; a readiness to repeat what has been said before; to support what is popular, without endeavoring to ascertain whether it be true or not. It is still worse when a student discovers in religious writers signs of dishonesty and fraud. I discovered both. I saw cases in which false doctrines were pa.s.sed on from generation to generation, and from writer to writer, without the least attempt to ascertain their true character. I saw other cases in which dishonesty was manifest, in which fraud was used, in support of doctrines. Old creeds were allowed to remain unaltered, long after portions of them had been found to be unscriptural; and error was subscribed as a matter of course. The result was, a distrust of everything held by such parties, unless it was supported by the plainest and most decisive proofs.

29. I was now in a state of mind to go down quietly and almost unconsciously into utter unbelief. And I _went_ down. I did not _reject_ the doctrine of the divine origin of the Bible and Christianity, but gradually _lost_ it. My faith died a natural death. I was in the world, and became a worldly man. I mixed with unbelievers, and gradually came down to their level. I had supposed that a man could be as religious outside the Church as inside; but I found it otherwise. It was a sad, an awful change I underwent; but I not only did not see it, at the time, in its true light, but was actually unconscious for a long time that it was taking place.

In November 1852, I attended a Bible convention at Salem, Columbiana County, Ohio. It lasted three days. I spoke repeatedly, and at considerable length, at its meetings. My remarks wore directed chiefly, not against the Bible, but against what I regarded as unauthorized theories of Scripture inspiration. I contended that those theories were injurious to the interests of virtue and humanity.

I also spoke about the darkness in which the human authors.h.i.+p of portions of the Bible was wrapt. My remarks were a mixture of truth and error, but in their general tenor they were unjust, and could hardly fail to be injurious.

Henry C. Wright spoke at this convention, contending that man had an infallible rule of life engraven on his own nature, independent of instruction from without. He was often severe and extravagant in his remarks. He was fierce, and said things which he could not make good.

The Rev. Jonas Harzell and others spoke in defence of the Bible.

On the last evening the hall in which the convention was held was densely crowded, and the audience was greatly excited. A Mr. Ambler spoke at great length, and seemed desirous to excite the people to violence against the a.s.sailants of the Bible. When he closed, a large portion of the audience seemed bent on mischief. I rose to reply to Mr.

Ambler, and soon got the attention of the audience. Their rage quickly subsided, and at the close of my address, the people separated in peace.

In June 1853, I attended another Bible convention at Hartford, Connecticut. I was appointed President. A. J. Davis, the celebrated spiritualist, gave the first address. It was on the propriety of free discussion on religious subjects. Henry C. Wright spoke next, making strong remarks on portions of the Old Testament. I followed, going over much the same ground as at Salem, but speaking with more severity of feeling. My heart was getting harder.

The Rev. George Storrs replied. He set himself especially to answer H.

C. Wright, and he spoke with much effect.

In the afternoon of the second day, W. L. Garrison proposed six resolutions, bearing partly on the Bible, and partly on the church and clergy. They were very strong. There was a considerable amount of truth in them, but their spirit and tendency were bad. Parker Pillsbury followed with a speech, in which he praised natural religion, but condemned the religion of the church.

In the evening Mr. Garrison spoke. He spoke with much power. He dwelt chiefly on what was called the doctrine of _plenary inspiration_. His strength was in the extreme views of the orthodox theologians, and in the inconsistencies of the church and the clergy.

Mr. Garrison made a second speech on the fourth evening, still dwelling on the theory of _plenary inspiration_. Before he got through his speech the meeting was disturbed by a number of theological students, from a college in the city. They threatened mischief. One displayed a dagger.

Confusion followed. Some of the speakers fled, and others were alarmed.

I kept my place, but soon found I had the platform to myself. I expected more courage from my skeptical friends. But they understood Judge Lynch better than I did, and their discretion, under the circ.u.mstances, might be the better part of valor. My rashness, however, ended in no mishap.

And the only bad effect which the violence of our opponents had on me was, to increase my hatred, perhaps, of the church and its theology. It is not wise in professing Christians to resort to carnal weapons in defence of their views.

In December 1853, I gave a course of lectures in Philadelphia. I was brought to the city by the Sunday Inst.i.tute. The object of the lectures was to show, that the Bible was of human origin, that its teachings were not of divine authority, and that the doctrine of its absolute perfection was injurious in its tendency. The room in which I lectured was crowded, and the audience was much excited. I stated, in opening, that I had nothing to say against anything that was true and good in the Bible,--that virtue was essential to man's happiness, and that I had no sympathy with those who rejected the Bible because it rebuked their vices. I was sincere in these remarks; but my older infidel friends, I found, regarded them as intended to deceive the unwary. Many of them were grossly immoral, and hated the Bible for its hostility to their evil ways.

After each lecture discussion followed. But the ability of my opponents was not equal to their zeal. They were often ignorant of both sides of the question, and injured the cause they sought to aid.

These lectures led to a public discussion between me and Dr. McCalla, a Presbyterian clergyman. It was to continue five nights, but ended on the fourth. We met first in the Chinese a.s.sembly Room; but the place proving too small for the crowds which were anxious to hear the debate, we adjourned to the large hall.

Dr. McCalla was very abusive. He was so intent on calling me bad names, and on saying savage and provoking things, that he forgot his argument.

I kept to the subject. I neither abused my opponent, nor spent my time in answering his abuse of me. I reproved him once or twice, telling him how unseemly it was in an old man, professing to be a disciple and a minister of Jesus, to show such a spiteful disposition, and to utter such offensive words; and then went on with my argument. The third night my opponent seemed to be losing his reason. On the fourth night he was literally mad. Loss of sleep, rage, and mortification, seemed to have brought on fever of the brain, and he was really insane. His friends were terribly put about. Many of them were furious, and were plainly bent on violence. A policeman climbed up the back of the platform behind where I was sitting and said in my ear: 'There's mischief brewing: you had better come with me. Step down now while they are looking the other way.' I looked for my overcoat and hat, but they were gone. Some one had carried them off, to prevent me from escaping. A gentleman who had seen a person take them away, and place them in a distant corner of the room, seeing what was coming, went and brought them to me, and I at once slipped over the back of the platform to the floor, and accompanied the policeman. The crowd, intent on getting towards the front of the platform, had left a vacant s.p.a.ce near the wall, and I and the policeman got nearly to the door of the hall before we were observed. But just as we were pa.s.sing out a cry arose, 'He's off! He's off!' and a maddened crowd prepared for pursuit. When we got into the street the policeman said hurriedly, 'Which is the way to your lodgings?' 'That,' said I, pointing south. 'Then come this way,' said he, 'quick;' and he pulled me north. This probably saved my life. The mob knew which way my lodgings lay, and as soon as they got out of the hall, they hurried south, like a pack of hounds, roaring and furious. I was soon half a mile away in the other direction. 'Where shall I take you?' said the policeman. 'Do you know any one hereabouts?' 'Take me to Mr. Mott's,' said I, 'in Arch Street.' We were there in a few moments, and as the door opened to receive me, the policeman received his gratuity, and hastened away. In fifteen minutes there was a noise in the street. Mr. Mott opened the door and looked out, when a brickbat pa.s.sed just by his head, and broke itself to pieces on the door-post, leaving its mark on the marble. He had a narrow escape. He closed the door, and after awhile the mob dispersed, and all was quiet. Thus ended the discussion with Dr.

McCalla.

One would have thought that after such an experience as this, I should have taken care to keep out of debates on such an exciting subject. But I was daring to madness. I was engaged again in discussion on the same subject, in the same city, in less than a month.

The clergy of Philadelphia, unwilling to leave the cause of the Bible in this plight, demanded that I should discuss the question with Dr. Berg, a minister in whom they had great confidence. I yielded to the demand, and the discussion took place in Concert Hall, in January, 1854.

The hall was crowded every night. One very wet and stormy night, the number present was only 2000, but every other night it was from 2250 to 2400. A Philadelphia newspaper of that period says, "We cannot forbear to notice the contrast in the manner and bearing of the two disputants.

Mr. Barker uniformly bore himself as a gentleman, courteously and respectfully towards his opponent, and with the dignity becoming his position, and the solemnity and importance of the question. We regret we cannot say the same of Dr. Berg, who at times seemed to forget the obligations of the gentleman, in his zeal as a controversialist. He is an able and skilful debater, though less logical than Mr. Barker; but he wasted his time and strength too often on personalities and irrelevant matters. His personal inuendoes and offensive epithets, his coa.r.s.e witticisms and arrogant bearing, may have suited the vulgar and intolerant among his party, but they won him no respect from the calm and thinking portion of the audience; while we know that they grieved and offended some intelligent and candid men who thoroughly agreed with his views. It is time that Christians and clergymen had learned that men whom they regard as heretics and infidels have not forfeited all claims to the respect and courtesies of social life by their errors of opinion, and that insolence and arrogance, contemptuous sneers and impeachment of motives and character towards such men, are not effective means of grace for their enlightenment and conversion.

"There was a large number of men among the audience who lost their self-control in their dislike of Mr. Barker's views, and he was often interrupted, and sometimes checked in his argument, by hisses, groans, sneers, vulgar cries, and clamors, though through all these annoyances and repeated provocations, he maintained his wonted composure of manner and his clearness of thought. On the other hand, Dr. Berg was heard with general quiet by his opponents, and greeted with clamorous applause by his friends."

I am afraid the above remarks were true. Still, Dr. Berg was almost a gentleman compared with Dr. McCalla, and he was vastly more of a scholar and debater, far as he was from being a model disputant.

Dr. Berg had the right side; he stood for the defence of all that was good, and true, and great, and glorious; but the way in which he went about his work was by no means the best one. He took a wrong position,--a position which it was impossible for him to maintain. His doctrine was that the Bible was absolutely perfect,--that the inspiration of the Book was such as not only to make it a fit and proper instrument for the religious instruction, and the moral and spiritual renovation, of mankind, but such as to preserve it from all the innocent, harmless, and unimportant weaknesses, imperfections, and errors of regenerate and sanctified humanity. He even contended for a kind or a degree of perfection which many of the most highly esteemed professors and theologians of orthodox churches had relinquished. He held to views about the creation and the universality of the deluge, which orthodox Christian Geologists like Professor Hitchc.o.c.k of America, as well as Dr. Pye Smith of England, had given up as untenable. He contended for a perfection which, in fact, is physically impossible, and which, in truth, was inconsistent with his own acknowledgments in other parts of the discussion. I have no wish to disparage my opponent; I had rather do the contrary; but he did not properly and adequately understand the great question which he undertook to discuss. Hence he got involved in inextricable difficulties, and, in spite of all he could do, his attempted defence of the Bible was, to a great extent, a failure.

He said a many good things about the Bible. He proved a many things in its favor. He made the impression, at times, that there was something in its teachings of a most powerful and blessed tendency; that it was a book of infinite value,--that it was a wonderful teacher and a mighty comforter,--that it had done a vast amount of good, and was calculated to do a vast amount more,--that it was a friend and patron of all things good and glorious,--that it was the nurse of individual and national virtue, and the source of personal, domestic, and national happiness. He said many good things about the excellency of Christ's precepts, and the beauty and glory of His example. A hundred good things he said, both in favor of the Bible, and in opposition to infidelity. But the one great point which he had pledged himself to prove he did _not_ prove. It could not be proved. It was not true. So that though he won a substantial victory; he sustained a logical defeat. And if he had been twenty times more learned, and twenty times more able than he was, he would have been defeated. If a man attempts the impossible, failure is inevitable; and if he has a skilful, wary, and able opponent, his failure will be seen and felt, even by his most ardent friends, and greatest admirers. And so it was in the case of Dr. Berg.

But the error was not his alone; it was the error of his friends; the error of his patrons; the error of his times. What learning, and talent, and zeal, and skill in debate, considerably above the average of his profession, could do, he did; and that was a good deal: and his failure was chargeable not on himself, so much as on the faulty theology of the school in which he had been trained, and to which he still belonged.

So far as the general merits of the Bible were concerned, I was in the wrong. But the fact was not made so plain, so palpable to the audience, as it should have been, and as it might have been, if I had had a wiser, a warier, and an abler opponent, and one who had no false theory of Bible inspiration or abstract perfection to defend. A man thoroughly furnished for the work, and free from foolish and unauthorized theories, would have been able to give proof of the substantial truth and divinity of the Scriptures, and of their transcendent moral and spiritual excellence, absolutely overwhelming; and I do most heartily wish I had had the happiness to encounter such an advocate in my discussions. It might have proved an infinite advantage to me, and an incalculable blessing to my friends. As it was, the debate only tended to strengthen me in my unbelief, and to increase my confidence in future controversies with the clergy.

How I answered my own arguments, and got over my own objections, when on my way back to Christianity, I may state hereafter. All I need say here is, that I took a _qualified_ view of the divine authority of the Bible, and of the doctrine of its divine inspiration,--a view in accordance with facts, and with the teachings of Scripture itself on the subject.

This view did not require me to demand in a book of divine origin the kind of abstract or absolute perfection which Dr. Berg required, and which he so rashly undertook to prove. On the contrary, it taught me to look for a thousand innocent and unimportant errors and imperfections in the Bible. A thousand things which would, if proved, have been regarded by Dr. Berg as valid objections to the doctrine of its superhuman authority and divine authority, were no objections at all to me. I could acknowledge the truth of them all, and yet believe in the substantial truth and divinity of the Book as a whole. The dust and mud of our streets and roads, and the decaying timbers and rotting gra.s.ses of our forests and farms do not make me question the divine origin and the substantial perfection of the world: nor do the errors and imperfections of ancient transcribers or modern translators, or the want of absolute scientific, historical, chronological, literary, theological or moral perfection even in the original authors of the Bible, make me doubt its divine origin and inspiration, or its practical and substantial perfection. You may show me ten thousand things in the earth which, to mult.i.tudes, would seem inconsistent with the doctrine that it is the work of an all-perfect Creator; but they would not be inconsistent with that doctrine in _my_ view. They would probably seem, to my mind, proofs of its truth. Things which, to men who had not properly studied them, appeared serious defects, or results of Adam's sin, would be seen by me to be important excellencies; masterpieces of infinite wisdom and goodness. Many of the things I said about the Bible in my debate with Dr. Berg were true; but they amounted to nothing. Dr. Berg thought they were serious charges, and that if they were not refuted, they would destroy the credit and power of the Book. He was mistaken. And he never did refute them. If I were in the place of Dr. Berg, and an opponent were to bring forward those things in proof that the Bible was not of G.o.d, I should say, Your statements may be true, or they may be false, and I do not care much which they are; but they are good for nothing as disproofs of the divine origin and practical perfection of the Bible.

The Bible is all it professes to be, and it is more and better than its greatest admirers suppose it to be, notwithstanding its numberless traces of innocent human imperfections. The sun has spots, but they neither disprove its value nor its divine origin. The probability is, that the spots in the sun have their use, and would be seen, if properly understood, to be proofs of the wisdom and goodness of the Creator. And it is certainly plain to me, that what you regard us defects in the Bible, are proofs both of its divine origin, and of its real perfection.

I said some things about the Bible in my debate with Dr. Berg, which, if they had been true, would have proved that the Bible was _not_ of divine origin. But they were not true. All these things should have been refuted by Dr. Berg with great promptness, and refuted so thoroughly and plainly, that every one should have been made to see and feel that they were refuted. But they were not. Some of them were left unnoticed.

Others were handled unskilfully. The time and strength that should have been given to them were wasted on trifles, or unwisely spent in offensive personalities, unseasonable witticisms, or attempts at fine speaking.

The objections of this cla.s.s, which my opponent failed to answer, or answered unsatisfactorily, we may notice further on.

In January, 1855, while over on business, I had a public debate at Halifax, England, with Brewin Grant, a congregational minister. This, so far as its impression on my own mind was concerned, was the most unfortunate discussion I ever had. My opponent was the meanest and most unprincipled or ill-principled man I ever met. In a pamphlet which he had published, giving instructions to those who were called to defend the Bible and Christianity against unbelievers, he had laid it down as a rule, that their first object should be to destroy the influence of their opponents, and that in order to do this, they should do their utmost to damage their reputation, and make them odious. He acted on this principle, in his debate with me, with the greatest fidelity. He raked together, and gave forth in his speeches, all the foolish and wicked stories which my old persecutors had fabricated and spread abroad respecting me, except those about my having committed suicide, and being smothered to death, and some others which were so notoriously false that they could no longer be used to my disadvantage. Those stories he improved by making them worse. He made a number of new ones also.

I had published a book, giving the story of my life up to the time of my expulsion from the Methodist New Connexion. This work, like my other works, was written in the clearest and simplest style, so that no man with ordinary abilities could fail to understand it, and no man without powers of perversion bordering on the miraculous, could give to any part of it an objectionable meaning. This book he took, and read, and misread, and interpreted, and misinterpreted, so as to make the impression on persons unacquainted with it, that I had written and published the most foolish, ridiculous, and in some cases, really discreditable things of myself, and even false and unwarrantable statements about others.

Before the discussion came on he gave a lecture on this book. I went to hear it. He spoke about an hour, and every quotation from the work, and every reference he made to it, was false. There was not a word of truth in the whole lecture. There was not a sentence which was not as opposite to truth and as full of falsehood as he could make it. And the ingenuity he displayed in his task was marvellous. It was really devilish. He enlarged my conception of the evil powers of wicked men, in the line of turning good into evil, and truth into lies, beyond all that I could otherwise have imagined. He did a hundred things, the least of which my poor limited capacity would have deemed impossible.

He pursued the same course in the debate. He went as far beyond poor McCalla, as McCalla had gone beyond ordinary sinners. If I had undertaken to correct his misrepresentations, and expose his fictions, I should not have had one moment to give to the subject we were met to discuss. So I did as I did with McCalla, I rebuked the man with becoming severity; I contradicted his statements in the plainest and strongest way I could; I also offered to arrange for a discussion of personal matters, if he wished it, after we had gone through our discussion of principles, and engaged to prove every discreditable story he told of me to be false, and then went on with the discussion. He accepted my challenge to discuss personalities, but neither kept his engagement, nor abated his efforts at misrepresentation during the remainder of the debate.

He was not content with sober, sad, deliberate falsehood; he resorted to ridicule. He pulled comical and ugly faces; put out his tongue; put his thumb to his nose; threw orange peel at me; and said and did other things which it is not lawful for me to utter.

He had thought, I suppose, to disgust me; to tire me out; to make me withdraw from the debate, and give him the opportunity of saying he had put me to flight. He was mistaken. I kept my ground. And I kept my temper. And I kept my gravity. I rebuked him at times with becoming sternness, and then went on with my task. It is probable that I spoke more strongly against the Bible, and that I said harder things against the church and the ministry, than I should have done, if he had conducted himself with any regard to truth and decency; but I did not raise my voice above its usual pitch, nor did I show any unusual signs of indignation, disgust, or irritation. My feelings became more intense, my language more cutting, and my style and logic more pointed and forcible; but my manner was calm, and my behaviour guarded.

And I husbanded my strength. I let him explode, while I let off my steam quietly, and in just measure only, making every particle do its proper work. I wasted neither words, nor strength, nor time. In three or four days my wicked opponent began to get weak and weary. He had tired _himself_ instead of me. He had disgusted and put to shame many of his friends. He had driven away several of his supporters. He had weakened his party. He had strengthened his opponent. He had lost, he had betrayed, his cause. He dragged on heavily. He was all but helpless. I had every thing my own way. I had an easy fight, and a decisive victory.

I had the last speech; and when the battle was over, I felt free to deal with my unprincipled opponent rather severely, and I said: "My opponent has acted, from beginning to end of this debate, in anything but a n.o.ble and manly way. I refer not merely to his personal abuse, his use of foul names, his insolence of manner, his malignity of spirit; but to the way in which he has misconducted the argument. He was pledged to prove the Bible of Divine origin and authority. He was bound to bring out, as early as possible, what he thought his strongest arguments, and afford me an opportunity of meeting them. But he did not do this. To judge from his proceedings, you would conclude that he had no faith in any of the popular arguments, such as those employed by Paley, Horne, &c. He sat watching, like an animal we need not name, for some stray thought to pounce upon. He tried every device to draw me from the question, and showed, not only the greatest reluctance, but a fixed determination, not to come any nearer to it himself than he could possibly help. He has shown nothing like courage, nothing like confidence in the goodness of his cause, nothing like openness, candor, or generosity; nothing but craft and cunning. He has never fought like a soldier, but dodged like an a.s.sa.s.sin. Honorable men _give up_ a cause that can't be honorably maintained. For myself, ye are witnesses, I came out openly, boldly, and at once, and gave my opponent the best opportunity he could have of grappling fairly with my arguments. But he would not meet them. He slunk behind his mud-battery, and instead of firing shot and sh.e.l.l, spurted forth filth. By-and-by he took my old deserted battery, and began to play upon me with my worn-out guns and wooden shot, till his friends compelled him to give up. He complained that I had taken up my position on Mount h.o.r.eb, and pattered him with grapeshot from the old Jewish armory, and besought and urged me to plant myself on Mount Tabor, or the Mount of Olives, and try what I could do with Christian ammunition. I did so; but even that did not please him. He stared and squalled, as if it had been raining red-hot shot, as thick as it once poured hailstones and fire in Egypt, killing every beast that was out in the fields. And thus he has gone on. He never seems to have been satisfied, either with his own position or mine. I might have pleased him, no doubt, by giving in before the battle, and surrendering at discretion; but that is not my custom. Well, now the battle draws near its close; and no one, I trust, has lost anything, but what is better lost than found. I am satisfied with my own position, and nearly so with my share of the fight. With a manlier foe, I should have had a pleasanter fight; but soldiers cannot always choose their antagonists, nor can they keep, in all cases, to their own best mode of warfare. The hunter cannot always find the n.o.blest game; and perhaps it is better for his neighbour, if not so pleasant to himself, that he should sometimes be obliged to employ his dogs and rifles in destroying vermin.

"I feel that an apology is due from me to you and the public, for entering the lists with my opponent. It is soon given. When I first offered to meet him in discussion on the Bible, I supposed him to be a well-informed and respectable man, and the representative of the highest intellectual and moral culture, combined with superior talent and experience as a debater, that the orthodox world could boast. I soon found out my mistake, but I did not feel at liberty to withdraw my challenge. When I learned the infamous character of his personal lectures, I declined all further correspondence with him till he should retract his slanders; but still I did not feel free to say I would not debate with him, if his friends should bring him to reasonable terms.

His friends in Halifax succeeded in doing so, and out of regard to the wishes of my friends, I submitted to the temporary degradation of being placed on the same platform with my unprincipled calumniator, and the calumniator of the best, the wisest, and the greatest men of every age and nation. I do not regret having done so.

"He will leave this discussion a sadder and a wiser man. He has found that the power of insolence, and falsehood, and of vulgar, brutal wit, has its bounds; that there are those whom they cannot abash or cow; that the _might_ in moral encounters is with the _right_.

"I part with my opponent without malice, though without regret. If he has natural characteristics which others have not, and lacks some higher qualities which others have, the fault is not entirely his. He did not make himself. Nor did he nurse, or rear, or train himself. He is the production, and his character may, to a great extent, be the production, of influences over which he had no control. I shall not therefore state all I have felt while listening to the false and fierce personalities with which this discussion has been disgraced. I will rather acknowledge my own errors, and lament that anything he has said or done should have been permitted, in any case, to affect my own style of advocacy, and render me less gentle or guarded in my utterances than I otherwise might have been. I retract every expression of unkindness or resentment. I apologize for everything harsh, offensive, or ungraceful in my manner; and I am sorry I could not declare and advocate my views, without shocking or distressing some of your minds. And now, with best and heartiest wishes for your welfare, and for the welfare of mankind at large, and in the fall and certain hope of the final, universal, and eternal triumph of the truth, and in the ultimate regeneration and salvation of our race, I bid you all farewell."