CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM Miss Lacy Starr Cornell University Library BJ1231 .S79 olin 3 1924 029 178 139 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029178139 FREDERICK STARR "The Origin of Religion" hV Frederick Starr LECTURE BY PROF. FREDERICK STARR Professor of Anthropology of the University of Chicago "The Origin of Religion" Delivered at Woods Theatre Under the Auspices of The Workers University Society SUNDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 2, 1919 Chicago, 111. Chairman ARTHUR M. LEWIS Permanent Lecturer for the Society p^iii'f^l^ JOHN F. HIGGINS, PRINTBB 376-380 WEST MO-NROB ST. ADDRESS OF PROF. FREDERICK STARR At Woods Theatre, Chicago, 111., Sunday, March 2, 1919 / Subject: The Origin of Religion 1 am to talk to you today about the origin of religion* and I have regretted twenty times since I accepted the invitation, that 1 did so. The chief reason for regret is the fact that there is so much to say upon the subject that one hour is a short time, two hours is a short time, and one lecture is not enough. I have often read in books, and especially in good old books like Lubbock's, that there were many peoples without religion. 1 dislike always to contradict so good a man as Sir John Lubbock, but if Sir John had been writing in these days, after a real study of religions had been made, instead of being a pioneer as he was, he would not have made such a list of atheistic tribes. As a matter of fact, 1 doubt whether there are any people in the world today without a religion. 1 do not believe that there is an atheistic population at the present time, and 1 suspect, if 1 look back through time to the days of early man, 1 will not find any old population without religion. In other words, if we go back, not only to the days of old Greece and Rome, but to Egypt and Babylonia, as far back as history extends and further, if we go back still beyond, to the time of the Stone Age man, and even to the man of the early Stone Age, I suspect that we still would not find a people without religion. We used to say, just as Sir John Lubbock said years ago, that there were plenty of atheistic tribes. Just so, we used to say that Paleolithic man, the man of the early Stone Age, was without religion. But today few people would make such a claim even about the man who lived during the Glacial period. You know that the Stone Age man covered the walls of his caves with pictures of the animals that he hunted. I suspect that those pictures are not mere art products. They were not made simply to fill up time. 1 believe that in making those pictures the old Stone Age man thought he was bringing an influence to bear on the animals, to help him in hunting, in the chase; that he was practicing magic, even kt that time, in making those drawings — exercising a power that would help him in getting his game. We used to think that the man of the older Stone Age never buried his dead, but among the discoveries that have been made durmg these later years, some graves have been found which showed that man ot that early time did sometimes bury his dead; he not only buried fiis dead, but with the dead he buried objects of different kinds, apparently for the dead man's use. So, even if we go back into the Glacial period, we find no atheistic tribes. 1 suspect, then, that always, as far back as we can imagine man, we must admit that he had something in the way of worship. And if we examine the peoples of the present day, we shall every- where find a religion of some sort or other. It is true that it is often a very crude religion. For instance, there are peoples today among- whom religion reduces itself to just two things: first, it seems as if all peoples attribute to animals and things the same sort of f«=l'"g»- '^^^ Lme kind of impulses, the same experiences which they themselves have. In other words, not only do animals think, but things think and feel and move and can do things, can help, can harm. THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION This constant process of attributing to animals and things the same impulses and motives and qualities that we ourselves possess, we may call personification. And I believe that in the poorest and crudest of religions, the tendency is always present to personify the things around. The second element which I believe is always present in every religion, no matter how crude, is the idea of spirits the idea that there are existences, perhaps not to be seen, perhaps not to be felt, which have no materiality that can demonstrate their presence, but which still are able to move, to feel, to act, to affect, to help, to harm. And spirits, I imagine, even in low cultures, range from things without size, without shape, without well distinguished qualities, up to true gods. Now these two fundamental elements, I believe, we shall find in every religion. The belief in spirits presents two phases. First, spirit beings exist; and second, that things and animals and people, are double there is a spirit part in addition to the physical part and that this spirit can separate and exist separately from the body in which it seemed to be housed. Now these primitive ideas which I have mentioned are, in my belief, the fundamental elements in the religious thought of early man. How can such things come? How did primitive man come to personify things about him? Hov\r did primitive man come to think of spirits? How did primitive man develop the idea of a soul that may separate from the body and live outside? I fancy that vre are apt to think too much of primitive man as a thinking being. In my early work in anthropology, I used to make a good deal of a philosopher out of him. 1 thought of him as facing the world like a great interrogation point. He v^ras questioning everything — Why? How? When? But primitive man must have been quite differ- ent from that. Primitive man had very fevy^ thoughts. We must remem- ber that he was a product of evolution from earlier forms of life. He had hardly consciousness of himself. The child has not much self- consciousness; primitive man had less. Primitive man had probably few ideas, fe^w thoughts. He vsras a being impelled by certain urges and impulses from within; he -was a being reacting to impressions from ■without. There are two urges beyond all others which have been powerful with lower man. There is, first, the impulse for food hunger. Hun- ger has driven the being that we think of as primitive man to do things. The second impulse and urge that has affected primitive man and led to his becoming what he was is sex. These are the two greatest inner impulses of primitive man. Impressions from without were reacted against. They were reacted against without much thought. Man, at first, must have been largely an unconscious reactor. He must have responded without thought or purpose. Take any act. The primitive man did not stop and say to himself: "I am hungry; 1 will go out and hunt and find food." No; he was hungry, and he went without thought to find food. While engaged in search for food, he found some game. He did not stop and say: "This animal is good for food. I must hunt it. Therefore, I will get my weapons ready." No; instantly the sight of the animal caused him to act. Perhaps on the path he saw some threatening danger. He did not stop and say: "If I stand still, I shall be killed- the blow is about to fall; if I am wise I will get out of the way." He did nothing of the kind. He dodged. The blow fell; he escaped it Perhaps he was conscious that he had been in danger and had escaped it. Perhaps he was not so conscious. THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION And when he came up to the game and the animal turned upon him, he reacted against it. He did not say: "I must fight for my life; I must conquer this creature; I must destroy him, or he will destroy me." No; he did not realize the fact. He struggled on. He found himself in the presence of some new danger. He found something acting against him to his disadvantage and he threw his force and energy into the combat. He did not reason or think, or even know what he was doing. As thousands of men on the battlefields of Europe, in the supreme crisis, did not know what they were doing or why, so primitive man did not know what he was doing or why. He did not think out reasons. He was a creature of impulses, reacting to impres- sions from outside. In such conditions as that, I doubt whether primitive man thought of himself as an actor. On the contrary, I imagine that he was merged in the experience. The experience would consist of three elements the actor, the weapon, the implement, the tool with which he was acting, and the object. The experience was a live experience. He lived through the experience half-consciously. He did not recognize himself as the actor, nor the tool as a tool, nor the object as some- thing upon which he was intentionally working. No. They were all together one live experience. The tool was as alive as he was, the object upon Vi^hich he was w^orking was just as alive as he; he was as conscious of them as he was of himself, which means he was not con- scious of them at all. But by and by, after he had gone through many experiences, he came to be self-conscious and conscious of these other things the weapon, the instrument, the tool, the object. They all came into consciousness just as rapidly as he himself came into consciousness; no more rapidly. We should not think of primitive man as sitting down and saying: "Well, now, what is the nature of this thing?" No; he came into rela- tions with the thing, and because he was living when he recognized his own consciousness, he thought of it as living, and every element of the experience, which was a live experience became living. It is not a matter of reason or thought; it is not philosophy. It is realization through contact and association with the other elements outside of himself in the experience, which was alive, that makes the man think of animals and plants, rocks and waters, and tools and implements as alive like himself, impelled like himself, acting like himself, feeling like himself, having helpfulness and having harmfulness. In some such vague, indefinite, unconscious, or semi-conscious way, man gradually came to realize himself and the world around him. And just because these things had been associated with him, they were like him. It was not a matter of reasoning; it was a matter of experience. Once having gained this idea, it seems to me natural that primitive man never thought of everything around him as being fully alive. It was only when something came prominently to his attention that he thought of it as alive. Primitive man, already beginning to look around him and to recognize influences, said presently to himself: "This thing has life; this thing has power." What are the things that will be considered as having power? There are two great classes of things to which attribution of special power v^ill naturally be given. The first is that which has been asso- ciated with him in some enterprise. This stream, with which he has had an experience, is alive. That animal, with which he has had expe- rience is alive. This weapon, which he has used and which has par- ticipated in experience with him, has the same power and influence and motives that he has. THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION Secondly, there is the thing which is in some way notable, strange, unusual. There were plenty of things which never figured in his ex- perience: there were plenty of things to which he was entirely accus- tomed and which he passed by without noticing. He did not think ot them as being actively powerful. But some day he came upon some- thing different from the objects he was accustomed to seeing. It might be strange on account of unusual shape. It focused his attention. It might be a tree and he felt it different from other trees; it was unlike the things he had been associated with, through having some power to make it different. So there are two classes of things that became thought of as hav- ing power — the thing associated with oneself, and the thing that is strange, such as a strange tree or a strange rock. In Japan one con- stantly comes upon trees that have a wisp of straw around them, show- ing that they are divine. Why? Because they are different from other trees. They have a different shape, there is something peculiar about their leaves, the spreading of the branches is unusual, the trunk is swollen — in some way they are different from other trees of their kind. Therefore, they must be powerful. You remember last week I showed you a picture of some stones bound round with sacred ropes. Originally they were one great stone. Nature cleft it into three. All of them are wound round with the sacred rope, because they are differ- ent from other stones. They are strange, and in that strangeness lies their power. When we examine the lower peoples of the world, we find them recognizing a strange power which is pervasive. I have spoken of a strange power fixed in one object, but when man really comes to think and reason, he is inclined to think of an all-pervasive power of that kind, which is something mysterious. Thus the Iroquois Indian, w^hen he sees anything out of the usual course, says "orenda". He finds himself in the presence of a mysterious power which he calls orenda. Orenda is everywhere; it exists potentially in all objects. In other words, in the course of time, the man of lower culture comes to believe that any object may contain this magic po^ver; any object may produce results. Some objects do he knows they do; any may. And the thing v^rhich today is commonplace, tomorrow may by association or strangeness, come to exhibit the possession of this strange power. I have tried to indicate to you as clearly as I could, the way in ■which the idea of animation, the idea of personification, in other beings and in things, came about. Let us look a moment at spirits. It is much the same thing again. The thing that has magic oower is spirit, and in the beginning spirits were not immaterial, but just as material as anything else. A stone that was full of power would be a spirit; so would the power itself; then they might think of the power as sep- arate from the stone. There are three stages. A spirit may be a thing as material as any; it may be a stone, a tree, anvthinR. Some lower peoples call the squeaking of a rat a spirit. That is very natural. When we bear a strange sound, ignorant people often shudder and say "it is a ghost". Movement, too, is spirit. A stone, strange in shape, or size, peculiar in color, or remarkable in position, or that has harmed somebody on some occasion, is a spirit. In time they began to think of the spirit part as distinct; later they may think of it as separate. So there are three stages in the concep- tion of a spirit from the mere physical thing up to a separated imma- terial thing. This idea of the doubling of the spirit is interesting, and most interesting to us in connection with ourselves. Among almost THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION any people we may study today, we find the conception that man con- sists of two parts — the body and the soul — that the soul may sep- arate from the body, that the soul may come and go, that the soul may go away and the body remain. We have seen how personification came about. We have noticed the gradual emergence of the idea of spirits. How did the idea of a separable soul arise? Probably it began in sleep. A man goes to sleep and dreams. Savages have very clear and vivid dreams. They are so real that often afterward they have difficulty in realizing that they were dreams. The savage, dreaming as he lies there in sleep, has experiences. He continues the experiences that occupied him during the day. He goes hunting; he carries his bow and arrow and hunting knife, and his ax. He battles with some enemy, or he kills game; by and by he wakes. Then he tells the people what he has done. He says, "it was a great deer I killed". Or, "it was a dreadful battle through which I went; it is a wonder I escaped alive; but here I am". And they say to him: "No, you have been here all the time." Can they convince him that he has been there all the time) Never; he is as sure he has actually done the things in his dream as he is that he does the things of his waking hours, and it is useless to try to reason with him. They give up trying to reason with him, because they themselves have had the same experiences. They have dreamed and done things in their dreams which bystanders tell them they certainly did not do. And so they begin to think that that Spirit thing which is within has gone unseen and unheard, and has had the experiences that were described, and now comes back and reanimates the body. The idea of something that can come and go would be sure to arise through dreams, it seems to me. There are people the world over (and 1 know from my own experience of civilized tribes in the Philip- pine Islands), who will never awaken a person who is asleep. 1 have time and time again remonstrated with my servants about this matter. 1 have said: "So-and-so came to see me while I was asleep. You should have awakened me." But they would not. Why? Because they thought that, as 1 lay there, my spirit had gone abroad; it might be that it was occupied with the affairs of dream-life; suppose the body should be suddenly awakened with the spirit gone) Who knows what disaster might result) Such an idea as that of a separable soul is strengthened by a =«"« of other experiences in life. There are times when a man falls suddenly in fits. He struggles, he wrestles, he seems to be occupied with some terrible strife. By and by he comes to himself and he tells the people what he has done while unconscious. There are times wh«" « ■"«" seems to be taken suddenly with a spirit not his own People of lower culture believe, that happens, that another spirit «"'"f_.'"'° **? .?°°f and controls the man, that he has lost power to control his own actions. Such simple things as a mans reflection in water, or a "^^r.ss}.e.do-w cast by the sun, adds to this idea of the doubleness °f '^^^ .^"J"^^" ^"\^^ The shadow, that is perhaps the soul; the reflection, !>-' " P«^\^P„' '^l double that comes and goes in sleep. There comes a "^« ™ Jf/^ man lies down in sleep and never wakes. There '=°'"^»J'. .""^ ™/^^' spirit which was in the habit of coming and going f^J'"' f ""^^fiHives turns no more. The man is dead; but they Relieve the double sti 1 hves on, separate from the body, continuing perhaps the very experiences °' We'llfnow why among peoples of lower culture ^^^J^^e'Va'j' w: with the dead man. You remember in my African lecture. THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION went to a deserted house. A little matting curtain hung over the doorway. When we reached it, the man tapped on the door frame and spoke to the spirit of his dead father. He said: "Father, we have come. There is a white man with me, but he will do no harm. He wishes to see the place where you are buried. Permit that we enter. We went in and looked at the grave. On it were vessels for food and drink; there was the man's old flintlock musket; there was cloth for clothing. All these things were laid upon the grave. Why? Because the dead man in the future world needs the things that he used in this world. He wants his gun, his food, his drink, his clothing. They serve him yonder as they served him here. You may say to them: "The things are here, but the dead man is yonder. What is the good of putting these things with the dead man?" They look at you with pity and say: "The dead man is here, yes; the body is here, but the soul is yonder; the body of the things is here, but their essence, soul, spirit, has gone, and they may help him over yonder." There were African tribes among whom it was customary, when a chieftain died, to kill the slaves, the wives, the relatives, to accom- pany him. Sometimes dozens ^vere sacrificed at the death of a great chief. What was the idea? It was that the dead man needed the help, the advice, the companionship, the friendship, the service, of those who had helped him when he ^vas here. Among his slaves he had one, perhaps, who was called his right hand. He did the delicate services for the chief. He had another who was called his head, because he did the chief's thinking. He had an- other who ran errands for him and was called the feet. Ah well, the dead man has errands, the dead man has need of feet, the dead man has to have things done by skilled right hands; and so his right hand and his reasoning head and his willing feet are killed and put in the grave with him to accompany him to the beyond and serve him there as they served him here. Such then, it seems to me, are the simplest elements of religion — personification and animism, and animism shoves itself, first in the idea of many spirits of various kinds, and second in the idea of a double, a soul that separates, that lives afterward, that continues the existence begun here. From these we have the material basis for the religious life. What is the purpose of the religious life? To control or to conciliate the spirit po^vers, to gain the favor and assistance of those po"wers mysterious, uncertain, vague, indefinite, but real around. There is much discussion among people in my line of study in regard to the relation between magic and religion. Some think magic comes early, religion later. Some say magic is primitive science, reli- gion is primitive dealing with spirits only. There are others who say that magic forces Nature to do things wanted; religion is conciliation, gaining the favor of divine beings. Others, again, say magic is indi- vidual, one man performs a magical act, but religion is social, and that it is only when a group unites in ceremony that we have true religion. It seems to me impossible to separate magic and religion. This does not mean that they are precisely the same thing; no, but magic is always present in religion, from its very beginning to its highest flight. Magic is never absent from the religious act. Magic is both narrower and wider than religion. There is magic outside of religion; there is magic within. I shall make no effort to separate the two things. I w^ill simply say that in all religion there is a magic element; whether it is individual worship or group worship, one finds magic. THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION Let us look at magic a little. It is an interesting subject. Magic is the effort by some means or other to control and bind the powers of Nature to one's own uses. Let us illustrate. I said it is sometimes claimed that magic is individual, while religion is social. Magic may be individual; one man may perform a magic act in order to get benefit for himself. Again, magic may be individual but professional. There may be a man whose business it is to deal in magic for the benefit of other people. Such a man may be considered a professional practi- tioner in magic. Still again, we may have a whole society performing magic. Among American Indians much of the religion is conducted by secret societies, and in their ceremonials they operate chiefly by magic. What kinds of magic are there? There are two underlying princi- ples; one is that like effects like, like cures like, like produces like. The other principle is, contact influences. All magic, it seems to me, is based upon one of these two ideas: like produces like, and contact influences. I have out at my home sixty little figures made of black wax. Each has pins thrust into it; each has red string wound round it to cramp and hamper movement. Such a wax figure, if placed before a fire, will melt away. These figures are magic figures. When the wizard makes one of these figures, he names it. The person whose name he gives to it is the person to be affected by the magic. He then takes and wraps the figure round with red strings. This is intended to tie the man whose name the figure bears, so he can move neither hand nor foot and will be helpless to struggle. Then he takes pins. He puts one through the heart, another through the brain, others through the legs and arms, and as he does it perhaps he says some words, but all the time he is thinking the man's name. What he is doing to the figure, he is supposed to be doing by proxy to the unfortunate person whose name it bears. If he thrusts a pm through the heart, he is supposed to thrust a sword through the heart of the man, and so on. Suppose he puts the figure before the fire and it melts; the man wastes with fever until he dies and disappears. In other words, through » thing that looks Uke a man, that is named tor a man, which becomes a man by representation, a result is produced. It is magic, on the principle of like effects like. Let us take another form of magic. Suppose 1 want to do a man a harm. If I can get some of his finger nail clippings, I may burn tfie clippings in the fire; I shrivel and blast the man by doing it, because that which has been in contact with him is affected to his disadvantage or advantage. I suppose you all have heard of various methods of curing warts Let us take a common method of which most of you have heard 1 ake an onion, cut it in two, bind one piece for a -°-«"' ^^f^'J^^^'f^',; place the other piece also on the wart for a moment then tie the two pieces together and put them under the drippings of a roof. As the onTon deejays, the wart will decay. Why? Because the omon ha b „ in contact with the wart and the thing which has been m contact with another affects it. . ,. So there are two chief kinds of sympathetic magic d!P<="^-|^;^"^ the principles of like effects like and contact mfluences and produces effects. Lei me give examples of ceremonies to show you 1^° J 'j'^ '^^^ of magic enfers into religion. .THe American 1"^;-™'^,^: J^: Ite^fotef "^th Z^rs oTbuU^fd-thf Int^L^used to dU^ 10 THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION absolutely on these herds for food. When for a time a herd had not been seen and a village was beginning to need food, they would ar- range the buffalo dance. The young men of the tribe would come together and take the skins of the buffalo — the skin of the head, with the horns, the skin of the body, and the tail. All these were kept for just this use. They put these skins over themselves and then began to dance with the move- mjents of buffalo. Many of them, dozens of them, scores perhaps, would be dancing, imitating the buffalo. There would be music and singing, all with reference to influencing the thing that was to be secured. It was believed that by representing the buffalo they would force the animals themselves to come within reach. They would keep the dance up for days, until they fell with sheer exhaustion; new men would take the place of those tired out; the dance would be kept up until at last some one would cry out; "The herd has appeared." Then the dance would stop and the hunters would go out to the chase. You see this was a religious ceremonial in ■which there was social action, but the fundamental idea was a magical one. Down in the Southwest, among the Pueblos, I have seen their rain dances, and interesting things are done. Boys and girls both take part in the dance young people, fifteen to twenty-five years old. They wear on their heads wooden head-dresses cut in imitation of rain- cloud symbols and rainbow symbols. They are dressed in peculiar style, and the marks upon body and clothing have reference to rain. There will be some representation of the serpent, which is the symbol of lightning. There will be representations of rain-clouds with falling rain. As they dance and pray for rain, there will be people vyho dip the boughs of leafy plants into water and then shake the boughs. They are imitating the production of rain. Others will have jointed strips of wood so arranged together that by taking the ends and moving them they will produce zigzag motion. They are representing lightning. Others reproduce thunder. So between the costumes and the sounds and the representation of the dripping rain, the thunder, the lightning, they force the rain to come. It is the exercising of a magic influence to bring rain. I wanted you to realize the fact that we cannot separate religion and magic; I wanted you to see that even in religious ceremonials, where many take part and the affair is as social as you please, there is the presence of magic. Connected with magic is the man who devotes himself to magic. I told you a person may practice magic for his own benefit or, pro- fessionally, for the sake of others. The man who performs magic pro- fessionally is the most interesting man in barbaric culture. He is called by various names the medicine man, the shaman, the conjurer. All the terms are appropriate. In Africa they sometimes call him the rain-maker. But his work is always the same. He operates through magic on nature or spirits to compel them to do his will. There is no part of the world where we find the thing better devel- oped than on the Pacific Northwest Coast, in British Columbia and Alaska. The shaman or medicine man is a great man. You can always tell him when you see him. Any man who does the religious act for others, can regularly be recognized at sight. He not only looks differ- ent from the rest of the people, but he aims to look different. He neglects his person; he has long, flowing hair; he paints himself in a peculiar way; he wears ornaments such as no one else does- his clothing marks him off from the common man. Even his way of doing things in daily life differs from the ordinary. THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION II When a person is sick, he sends for the shaman. When a person is in need of some help he sends for him. He is paid for his services. Magic is his profession. He has learned to deal with spirits. He must be paid for his labor, just as any other man who has learned his trade must be paid. He comes to the place, sees the sick man, and nods his head as wisely as any other professional man would do. He says: "Oh, yes, the trouble with you is that somebody has your soul and is doing harm to you." So the thing to be done is to get back the sick man's soul. Shamans use a bone in that district that is intended purposely for taking charge of a man's soul. The soul is coaxed into the bone, plugged up in it and kept there until it agrees to behave itself. When given back to the man all is well. It may be that the sickness of the man is due to some harmful thing shot into him by spirit power. It is wonderful what things are shot into a sick man! The medicine man coming says: "Yes, yes, a powerful enemy, some other shaman, some wizard, has shot something harmful into you. We must get it out." Then he dances and sings. His garments are decorated with designs that give him spirit-power. He has in one hand a rattle carved with powerful designs, and in the other hand a wand carved with strange figures. He dances, screams, yells, struggles. He is fighting with spirits. Nobody else sees them, but his activity and vigor are plain evidence. Finally, after an awful struggle, he may say that he had to go to the bottom of the sea, or up to high heaven. Finally he comes back and says: "Well, the thing is done." Or perhaps he sayS: "The thing is not yet out of the man. And so he goes over to the sick man lying down, he bares his arrn and begins to suck; in a moment spits out a piece of glass or flint or thorn, and says: "No wonder you were suffering with a thing like this in you, shot by your enemy." The man gets well, of course, after such treatment. Does the shaman believe in himself, or is he just a pretender? Is he a fraud? Undoubtedly he is something of a fraud, but also un- doubtedly he believes a good deal in himself. 1 imagine that most shamans among our American Indians, most conjurers in Africa, most of these mystery men in every part of the world, believe firmly that they do much of what they pretend to do. Of course, that fellow who sucked the thorn out of the patient's arm, had the thorn concealed somewhere. It is evident he was a fraud to that extent. But then, in order to keep up faith and confidence, I suppose he felt that a little fraud was justified. But I have no doubt that, on the whole, he thinks he really comes into contact with spirits. 1 have no doubt he believes he has valuable secrets for controlling invisible powers. I have no doubt he learns secrets that now and again really are helpful. 1 have no doubt that he is often a skilled conjurer and sleight-of-hand man. I have no doubt he is a hypnotizer frequently, and much of what he does is due to hypnotisms And I have no doubt also that until he comes into contact with an outside culture higher than his own, the medicine man beheves in himself, as his people believe in him, and that they do believe in him is evident from any amount of evidence. A medicine man, in a burst of fury, may say to a man: "Go home and die," and though nothing were the matter with him, he may go home and die. There is that much confidence in the medicine man. There was once a man, a Canadian, I think— certainly he operated in Canada— named Edgerton R. Young. He was a missionary among the northern Crees. He was one of the most interestmg lecturers I 12 THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION ever heard. Edgerton R. Young used to come back to civilization every now and again and tell his experiences. And he held vast audiences absolutely entranced by the interest of the story which he told. Once in Toronto, where he had an audience of two thousand people and had talked to them for two solid hours, when he was ready to stop they cried: "Go on, go on," and he had to talk to them another hour. I have heard Mr. Young. He was a charming speaker. I talked w^ith him privately afterward about his Indians, and especially in regard to the medicine man. 1 said to him: "Of course, you have shamans among your Crees — medicine men?" He said: "Yes, it is very strange about the medicine men. They really do strange things. 1 will give you an example. 1 knew a white man, a Scotch Presbyterian, an elder in his church, whose -word any one would accept unquestioningly. He could not be deceived, being a man of extraordinary keenness and shrewdness. On one occasion he was out hunting and was coming back with ducks and geese, after a quite successful chase. He met the old medicine man of the tribe, who when he saw those ducks and geese, said: 'White man, give me a bird; give poor Indian a bird.' The white man thought it a great chance to preach a sermon, and to down superstition, and so he said: 'What, a great medicine man like you, ask for a bird from me! If you are so powerful, why don't you get your owrn birds, instead of asking me?' The old man looked at him a moment, and then an ex- pression of anger came over his face, and he raised himself to his full height, stamped on the ground, and he said: 'White man, you think I can't get birds? See yonder goose.' He pointed up into the sky and there v^^as a goose, and in a moment down it fell fluttering, fluttering, fluttering, dead at their feet." 1 said: "Yes?" Mr. Young continued: "I have no doubt about it, because I have every confidence in that man who told me." He went on to say: "They do very strange things, but they have never been able to do anything of that kind in my presence, nor within three- quarters of a mile of me." I said; "Indeed; how do you explain that?" And he replied: "I am surrounded by an atmosphere of Almighty Christ that disarms their power!" Now, isn't it interesting to think of an atmosphere just a mile and a half in diameter? He added: "It is the same in other countries. I was at a great missionary meeting where missionaries were gathered from every part of the world, and we heard the same kind of story from islands of the sea, from Asia, and Africa, and the world over, of men who have these mysterious powers." "Yes," I answered, "and where do they get it from?" And the missionary said: "It is the devil himself, v^^ho gives them that pov\?er." I wish I had time to go on indefinitely, but I have not. I want, however, to say something about the religion of our poor Africans, and of my Ainu. Briefly, in regard to my Africans. One thing is certam-— they believe in spirits. There is no question but that the son whom I mentioned, when he tapped at the door of the hut and spoke, felt that his father s spirit heard his every word, and while he received no direct answer he treated him as if he was in the very presence. The man believed that those things buried with his father were used by his spirit in the beyond. _ Among those peoples we find great quantities of fetishes. The word fetish IS a dangerous word to use. There is much dispute about what It nieans I have seen thousands of fetishes. 1 have handled them freely, although a great many white people are afraid to handle them. Ch.comas s children, when they used to come to see me, if they did^t d THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION 13 wear anything else, would have a fetish. The little fellow you saw In the picture, sitting on my knee, always wore round his neck a little string from which were hanging three small figures made of bits of wood. They were intended to protect him. Fetishes are often horns, hollow horns of antelopes, filled with a mixture of all sorts of things grease, blood, brains sometimes, wood-dust, fangs of snakes, and bits of egg-shell. All are mixed into a mass and pressed into a horn, which is worn for protection against dangers and bad luck and spirit powers. Little kettles and pots and jars filled with similar mixtures are set out- side the door in order to prevent bad influences from entering the house. I had old Chicoma come around and make a fetish for me, for my new house. He sanctified the house for me and set up my house fetish. They had such house fetishes in front of every house. They take two sticks, one supposed to be male and the other female. They carve the upper end into human faces. They paint the faces. Then they set these in the ground in front of the house. Through them one has all kinds of good influences, will prosper in the house, will grow rich, will have good crops, will have plenty of young animals and a good family. The old man came v^ith my two fetishes and set them up. He killed a goat as sacrifice. He smeared some blood upon them and then took the skin and flesh and prepared the sacrificial feast. The wood used is of a kind that easily strikes root. They hope it will strike root, and if it does, it presently begins to put out leaves and buds and the stick which was originally set out as a stake with a human head cut on top of it becomes a growing plant and, in course of time, a tree. The idea is that as these trees flourish, the house and every- thing in it flourish. I wonder how my poor house has flourished, because those stakes took root and flourished splendidly. If you go to towns in that part of Africa and look at the trees around the village you will find on most of them, twisted and gnarled so you would hardly recognize it, the old face that was a part of the fetish before it grew into a tree. Fetishes are everywhere in Africa. Personally, I feel that a fetish is believed to have power in itself. Many modern writers on fetishism claim that the fetish has no power in itself, and that a spirit must be in- voked into it. If so, it is the medicine man who invokes the spirit. But I am sure that nine out of ten fetishes that I have seen, were believed already to have the power in them. Let us suppose we have a fetish, a figure representing a human being, male or female, two or three feet high, set up perhaps in some place as a definite object of worship. Most people would call it an idol. I am not in this lecture going into those high religions where idols are. I am talking today only about lower worship. Idolatry is rather high up in the religious scale, and my poor fetish in Africa is not an idol. What is the difference? This fetish is a thing by itself. Whether a spirit is conjured into it or not, it is a thing unique. It does not represent an outside power. It is worshiped for and by itself. An idol is a representation of a high-god, who has special qualities, who has a name, who has attributes, who has symbols, who has priests and temples. There are often thousands, tens of thousands perhaps, of idols representing a given god, but a fetish is an individual thing, made once for all, serving once for all, in itself. As for the Ainu, they are the primitive people of Japan, who lived in the islands before the Japanese came there. They are really Cau- casians, white people, representing the same great race to which you and I belong. They are very hairy people, and therefore often called the 14 THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION "hairy Ainu". The men have long beards and wavy hair, that hangs down over the shoulders. The women have no beards, but tattoo their faces with great mustache-like marks around the mouth. Hair plays an important part among the Ainu. I suspect the old Ainu man, unspoiled by modern innovations, used to spend one-third of his waking hours v^rhittling quite a Yankee occupation. (I told you they were white men.) He would whittle so that the whittling ^vould come up as a curled shaving. He would not quite separate it, but would leave the shaving hanging, and shave, and shave, and shave, until he had a bunch of those curly shavings hang- ing to the end of the stick. Then he v^^ould sharpen the lower end of the stick and set it up. Such a stick with shavings is called an inao. The inao is extremely interesting. It is several things in one. It is a prayer, and the making of an inao and setting it up is a prayer to the deity that he may do some favor. But it is not always a prayer. It may be an offering, because for some reason not clear to us it is a pleasure to the god to receive inao. Thirdly, the inao may be a god itself. Outside the sacred east window of their houses the Ainu set up a line of inaos. Each is a god, one the god of the mountains, another the god of the rivers, another the god of the springs, another the god of the fire, and so on. Outside of the Ainu house which my Ainu group built in St. Louis there were sixteen inao gods, each different. They make prayers to these inao gods; they offer drink strong drink to them. So you see, these curiously shaped sticks are prayers, offerings, and deities. The most curious ceremonial the Ainu have is the bear dance. I traveled a thousand miles to see one. They are rare now. You might go many times to northern Japan and visit the Ainu and never see a bear dance. The Japanese are trying to put an end to them. When the Ainu used to go to hunt the bear in the proper season of the year, they hoped to get a little cub. They hoped it might be so young that it ought not to leave its mother. Because so young, the little creature was fed by the Ainu women at their own breasts, and it is probable that every Ainu woman old enough to be a mother had suckled a baby- bear Pretty soon it was too large for that kind of food. Then it was put into a cage and fed daily by a man set apart for the duty. The women cooked food for the bear; the poor pampered little creature was given the nicest food the Ainu could provide. In the course of time it got to be quite a big bear and was the pet of the village. Every child caressed it, every woman loved it, every man in the village talked with it and treated it as if it were a friend. By and by the time comes when the great ceremonial is to take place, notices are sent to the various villages, informing them of the bear feast. When the day comes, the best mattings are gotten out and the best things made ready. They prepare plenty of food and plenty of intoxicating drink; they put fresh inao in every part of the house and by the trails and springs, in order to have good influences everywhere. After the guests have been located in the houses where Uiey are to be entertained, the women indulge in a song and dance. Ihey weep and cry as they dance and sing. They look as if the saddest day of their life had come. The old men have food and drink pre- pared. 1 hen all come out, and with music and dancing they give the order for the bear to be brought forth. They drag the bear out from Its cage with a couple of ropes. When they get it out, they begin to tease it. Remenjber the creature has never had an unhappy day be- fore; It has always been treated with affection and respect. But now THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION 15 those who had been its friends seem to turn against it. They pelt it with stones and sticks. They bring out bows and arrows, blunt-pointed, and shoot at the poor creature. The arrow may have force enough to stick for a moment before it falls. They are anxious that it shall. Every man and boy in the village tries to shoot the bear with sacred arrows. I saw a baby, two years old, brought out in its brother's arms, draw the bow with its little hands, and shoot the arrow. The animal at first is terrified. It tries to run. Then it becomes angry and vexed, and tries to defend itself. The torment keeps on. All at once, the word is given and they stun the creature, put a pole under its throat and another pole at the nape of the neck, behind, and then the whole crowd of young fellows throw themselves on the upper pole and their weight crushes out the life-breath of the creature. This is done directly in front of the old and respectable men of the village, seated on their choicest mats, surrounded with inao. And as the animal gives its last gasp, the man leading the ceremony catches and inhales its breath, and prays, saying: "Dear little creature, we have loved you; we have been glad to see that you have never wanted for anything; we have treated you as one of ourselves. Now the time has come for you to go. We are dispatching you to your parents up above. Carry with you our prayers, our thanks, our respectful greetings, and have the gods send us plenty of bears to hunt. Have them send us success and prosperity in the years to come. Carry with you our love and don't forget to tell them how well we treated you." They take the bear after it is dead, cut it open, take the skin off, and carry the flesh into the house. Then they take the skull with the skin on it and place it on a fine mat and cover it with inao shavings and beads and rings, and all sorts of decorations. By this time they have got some soup ready, made out of its own flesh, and they place the soup before the dead head, and they say: "Taste of this soup. May it do you good." Then after it has taken soup, they are free to take soup themselves. Then they come out with boiled meat, its own meat you remember, and they say: "Dear little creature, here, take meat, eat, be happy." Then, it having had its offering, they take meat and eat and are happy. And after they have all eaten and drunk until they can eat and drink no more, the feast is ended, tl is a great occasion. This is one of the many interesting things in the way of communion ceremonies. To kill the god, to eat its flesh and drink its blood, is com- monplace in the religions of the world. I had intended to say a few^ words about sacred numbers. With it I mean to end. Sacred numbers are rather a specialty of mine. In studying them, I think we get a good many hits regarding religious beliefs and practices. Sacred numbers are numbers believed to have magic power. They are numbers conceived to be related to divine things in a special way. They are in constant use in the worship of lower men. There are many sacred numbers, but the five great ones are 2, 3, 4, 7 and 13. I suppose many of you would think 7 is the greatest. It is the least important. The rest are all more so. I shall say a few words about each — about 2, 3, 4, 7, and 13. First, as to 2. We find it everywhere. It is fundamental to reli- gious thought. It is fundamental to the great philosophies of the ^vorld. I had intended to ask Mr. Lewis to have a blackboard here, but I forgot. Drawr a circle, and draw in the circle through the center, a curved line that will divide the circle into two similar and equal parts. 16 THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION Most of you have seen the design of the Northern Pacific Railroad Co. One of the sides is red, one black. It is an old Oriental symbol, the mark of Korea. What does it mean? It symbolizes the fundamental idea of Oriental religions. It is the presence of complementaries and opposites, always at the same time. You cannot think of heat without thinking of cold; you cannot have a clear idea of heat without having at the same time a clear idea of cold. You cannot think of good without thinking of bad; you cannot think of rich without thinking of poor; you cannot think of life w^ithout thinking of death. There are thoughts that you cannot have unless at the same monnent the complementary thought is in your mind. That fact early impressed itself on mankind. They thought of things as active and passive, as male and female, as light and darkness, as good and bad, as hot and cold, as winter and summer, as day and night. They did not think of this constant co-existence as being a con- flict; they thought of it simply as complementary. That circle divided by a curved line into tw^o parts black female, red male represents creation, the universe, the world, everything; it is a fundamental idea in Oriental religious philosophies, and in American Indian religions. Every American Indian religious ceremony is based on sex. The same idea is present in those fetishes outside mv house in Africa; they represent not a struggling, but a combining; they exem- plify the only kind of creation anybody ever knew^ practically. Three is a sacred number. Why? Because it exhausts the natural possibilities of a subject w^hen looked at from a certain point of view. Every sacred number must do so. You cannot think of anything more than two great reciprocal forces of nature when you are thinking along that line. Three means the totality and completness of living things; three means all humanity: every human being is one of three things — male, female, child. There is no other human being except the male, the female, and the result. Trinities occur w^idely in the religions of the w^orld. There are hun- dreds of them in the religions of antiquity and of the Orient. Most trinities are natural male, female, and child. The trinity you have heard most of is unnatural. Think of a trinity composed of three male beings! Are the people who hold to such a trinity satisfied w^ith it? Plainly no, because they have been revolting against it through the ages. Take the two great divisions of Christianity w^hat is the real trinity they worship. One of them has practically displaced that male trinity by another consistinS-S' %a 33333 1i1i ^'' S -3-^^^^^ ^^>^ ' ^ - » - » ^^0^^^^^9i ■JOHN F. KIGGINS, PRINTEK JIND BINDER 376-380 WEST MONROE SnEET, CHICUO Great Public Delate ON THE QUESTION "IS LIFE WORTH LIVING" Yes: FREDERICK STARR Anthropologist, University of Chicago No: CLARENCE S. DARROW GARRICK THEATRE Sunday Afternoon, March 28th, 1920, 2:30 P M. UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE "WORKERS UNIVERSITY SOCIETY" Chairman: ARTHUR M. LEWIS Verbatin Report by MACLASKEY & MACLASKEY Shorthand Reporters Chicago Closing Notes I If you change your address during the spring or summer, please let me know by mail at 54 Burton place, so I may change youi address on the program mailing list. II The opening meeting of next season will be held at the Gar rick Theater the first Sunday in November — November 7, at 2:30, You will receive the first program about ten days before the opening meeting. Ill We are expecting Mr. Clarence S. Darrow to open our nexl season with his great lecture on "The Foundations of Right and Wrong." IV Professor Starr will not leave this country until Christmas, sc we are expecting one or perhaps two Darrow-Starr Debates in the fall "Is Civilization a Failure," would be a splendid theme for a debate early in November. Look out for it. Also, Prof. Starr's great lectures or "Fire" and "The Story of the Alphabet." Also his great course oi four lectures on Africa. V My own work next season will be chiefly in Biology anc Geology with, of course, some Astronomy. I shall have some splendic illustrated lectures in these fields which I shall make as near perfecl as I can during the summer. One will be my own work on the Geol ogy of the Grand Canyon during two recent explorations, with Mr Meltzer. I am hoping to make our work in Biology — the great Scienct of Life — next season surpass anything that has ever been presentee to the American public. FINALLY Let me thank you cordially and personally for your splendic and loyal support and co-operation during the successful season nov closing, and especially for the splendid audience that fought its wa] through the blizzard last Sunday to see and hear my lecture on "Th( Marvels of the Spectroscope". << Is Life Worth Living ? " The Chairman : These two gentlemen have met before on this platform in discussion. I hope they will meet again. 1 think you will have the privilege probably next fall. The last debate w^as on the question : Is the Human Race Getting Anywhere? The debate today is on a question which interests us all and has to do with the great philosophy of pessimism, of which Mr. Clarence Darrow is the greatest living exponent. The day which brings these tw^o central suns in conjunction is a wonderful day. The question: Is Life Worth Living? is the question to be be discussed today. The debate will be opened by our distinguished friend, the greatest anthropologist the world possesses today. Professor Frederick Starr, of the Chi- cago University. PROF. STARR'S FIRST SPEECH. Professor Frederick Starr said: The subject we are to discuss today is very simply worded and it can be very simply discussed. It would be possible, of course, to indulge in any flight of oratory, to reach any depth of philosophy, in a dis- cussion of this question, but it is not necessary either to indulge in oratory or in philosophy. I hope I shall present some facts that are worth thinking over. Is Life Worth Living? And before we take up the dis- cussion of the question at all, 1 want to emphasize what the question is not. I suspect that we are going to beat a great deal about the bush in this discussion instead of getting right down to the central thought, which is merely: Is Life Worth Living? Now, there are three things I want to call attention to as not involved in the discussion. First I w^ant to say that we are not called upon in this discussion today to tell w^here man came from or whether it is fortunate that he came or how he came ; nor is it for us to say where he is going, or what comes hereafter. These things form no part of the question. Is Life Worth Living. I used to find a good deal of pleasure in this passage which I first read in its old, old English form : To Edwin, King of Northumbria, an aged counsellor said: "You know, O King, how on a winter evening, when you are sitting at supper in your hall, with your company around you, when the night is dark and dreary, when the rain and the snow rage outside, when the hall inside is bright and warm with a blazing fire, sometimes it happens that a sparrow flies 6 Darrow- Starr Debate. into the bright hall and then flies out at the other end into the dark night again. We see him for a few moments, but we know not whence he came nor whither he goes in the blackness of the storm outside. So is the life of man. It appears for a short space in the warmth and brightness of this life, but what comes before this life, or what is to follow, we know not." That is as true today as it was a thousand years ago. But I want to emphasize absolutely the fact that it is this life we are talking about ; it is this little space of time ; the period when the sparrow is flying through the hall. It is not whence the sparrow came on the one hand, nor whether the sparrow goes, on the other hand. It is simply whether the sparrow enjoyed, there in its terror and flight, the warmth and light and beauty, as it flew through the hall. Bear in mind, then, that whatever goes into either of these questions is not pertinent to the sub- ject. In the second place, I would call your attention to the fact that we believe — and when I say "w^e believe" I meain this audience believes, because I know^ just w^hat this audience is; I know its attitude tow^ard things — this audience believes that mankind has come into being through the operation, through ages, of certain influences and causes. Mankind is the result of operations that have been going on through a long period of ages. Well, now, mankind in becoming, has been adapted to these conditions. In other words, mankind fits; mankind must fit. It is inconceivable that man should exist unless he fits the situation in which we find him, and, it is inconceivable that he should continue unless he fits into the condition that w^e find him in. In other words, if we believe, and we do believe, that man is the product of evolution; he cannot possibly be a misfit in the surroundings in which he exists. If he should be so he would disappear and die; if he ceases to fit, if he ceases to be in harmony with his sur- roundings, he simply disappears. And the mere fact of the existence of one billion, six hundred million human beings on the earth today (a number which, notwithstanding the late dreadful war, is increasing every day, every week), the mere fact of the existence of such a human population shows there is not a genuine maladjustment. There is, of course, malad- justment here and there, single and individual cases; yes — poverty, sickness, suffering — all those things exist, but they exist because man himself has meddled; because man himself has made mistakes; because man himself has brought about in these individual cases a maladjustment. But the very fact that we have that number of human beings — greater, unques- tionably, than ever in the world before — demonstrates that life is not a failure. "Is Life Worth Living?''' 7 There are, then, two ideas not pertinent to this discussion. We often see in similar discussions, the introduction of a cruel, tyrant God, making people weak, putting them into hard and unhappy surroundings which are impossible; no such discussion has any pertinence today, because if we believe that man became as he did, we may rule out of all account any thought of such a tyrant God. He is beside the mark. Notice: Not only is a tyrant God beside the mark but, too, a vengeful Nature, spelled with a big "N" is beyond the mark. If there is such a Nature, dealing in horror, destroying from sheer de- sire to destroy, you surrender at once the very foundation or fundamental idea in regard to man's becoming with w^hich w^e started. So I say a line of argument cannot possibly be adopted in which such a God as 1 have suggested is held up before your gaze, nor in which such a Nature as 1 have hinted at can be called in. There is a third thing that this debate cannot include. This is no debate here on optimism and pessimism. I do not care how Mr. Lewis introduced it. He introduced it so be- cause he is used to talking that way. I understand that the question whether life is worth living is not a dispute between optimism and pessimism. I am not an optimist and I will not permit Mr. Lewis nor Mr. Darrow to put me into a position of that kind. An optimist is a man without a brain! An optimist is a man w^ho gives no consideration to the world; who can shut his eyes to evident facts. I am not an optimist, and this is not a discussion betw^een pessimism and optimism. On the other haind, there is only one step of improvement between an optimist and a pessimist; only one, and 1 am not a pessimist — no. I think one pessimist on a platform is as much as the world could possibly stand at any one time. Well, now, I am quite serious in saying that if we are today to discuss the question. Is Life Worth Living, we must rule out all the things I have indicated. We must rule out the question as to the unknown past and future. We are dealing w^ith the present. We must take out the idea of that cruel, blood- thirsty and wicked deity, and we must rule out the idea of a capitalized Nature, and w^e must rule out the idea that we are talking about two systems of philosophy, optimism and pes- simism. Now, I hope I am sane. I hope what I am going to say to you is simple, straightforward statement. It is not op- timism on the one hand; it is not pessimism on the other hand. I shall not shut my eyes to sad things; but I shall not dwell on them. He will. What remains? Why, the question as to whether life is worth living, remains. The question as to whether this little period of time during which we are in the light and warmth of the hall, is something worth while. That is what remains. 8 Darrow-Starr Debate. And the discussion we have before us is to talk about hfe, its employments, enjoyments, and whether it can be shown how we can get the most out of life. Very good, then; let us see. I one time spoke to some school children graduating. I always try not to talk twaddle on such occasions, but to talk sense because the children need it badly; they have been in poor hands much of the time. If you do not beUeve that, read Darrow's Farmington. 1 think his chapter on the School Readers is lovely; 1 do, indeed. Now, in the talk I speak of, I started out by saying: "Young friends, if you were asked what you want you would quite likely answer: 'Health, wealth and happiness'." It is perfectly proper that people should want health, wealth and happiness. Perfectly legitimate. It is rea- sonable that a man should want to be healthy, wealthy and wise. Those are things we may strive for. We are not sailing on an uncharted sea. It is not true that people do not know what is good. It is not true that the world has not learned what is worth while. There have been human beings for hundreds of thousands of years; there have been men, women and children living through this vast period of time. They had every kind of experience that can be thought of. They have had their joys; they have had their sorrows; they have learned what is worth while. It is not true that we do not know what things are good, what things are lovely. It is not true that we have not reached ideas as to the true, the good and the beautiful. No. There have been too many thousands and hundreds of thousands, millions and billions of people pegging away at the problems of the world for us to have any question whatever as to whether there are legitimate standards of the things that it is worth w^hile to try to reach and gain. When I examine the different things which people have said are worth while trying to get, I recognize the fact there are many men of many minds. Of course there are. I am glad of it. How stupid the world w^ould be if we were just all alike! You wouldn't have to come here to hear me and Mr. Darrow if you all thought exactly alike; if we all had been run in one mold. There wouldn't be much enjoyment in life. It is be- cause^men are different, have different enjoyments, brains and ideas that life is worth living. Every man is different from any other man and any man has a right, within certain limits, to the enjoyment that he can find. It is not for me or for any other person to actually say that a man shall not find enjoy- ment in the lines that please him. For example, I like to travel; I find a good deal of enjoyment in travel. But it is not necessary that everybody should travel. Mr. Darrow likes biology; that is a fine thing, but that is no reason why everybody must like biology. No. A little biology may please him. No biology at all may please you and you and "Is Life Worth Living?" 9 another. That is all right. I am not anxious that you should travel; I am not anxious that you should study biology. No; you have your preferences. I am glad you have. A few days ago — a few nights ago, I stood for a long time and enjoyed that splendid spectacle in the northern heavens. The finest Aurora Borealis I have seen for many long years. Wasn't it a splendid exhibition? I am sure many of you stood with enjoyment and saw that splendid natural phenomenon. And yet I know 1 have four friends who were urged, begged and pleaded with to come out and look at the Aurora Borealis. Did they go? No; they were playing cards ,and they kept on playing cards through the whole of that splendid display. Well, thank heaven, there were some who appreciated the Aurora more than that. But 1 am not discontented that those four men played cards instead of going out to see the Aurora. There is no actual accounting for tastes. But there are diflFer- ent tastes. But, after all, there are limits. For instance, husks can be eaten; yes, a person may eat husks; some animals might really enjoy eating husks. But, after all, everybody knows that the soft, fine grains of corn are vastly better and more valuable than the husks are. Still, that is no reason why people who like husks Should not eat them. People have a right to their own forms of enjoyment, and yet there are limits, of course. Notice: These limits are not due to Divine command nor to man-made laws. They are due to the nature of things. Man became. And, in becoming there are certain things he cannot do in the way of desiring or finding enjoyment. There are things which involve a penalty for the man who tries to do them. No man can thrust his hand into the fire without suf- fering the penalty; no man can overeat without suffering; no man can go without food and continue to live. No; there are certain fixed limits within which a man must find his enjoy- ment; within which he must confine his life. Those limits are not, as 1 say, in this final manner, fixed by Divine command nor by man-made laws. No. They are in the nature of things, which produced this human being, capable of enjoyment. There is another class of limitation. It is true that we are not alone. If I was alone, it would be quite possible for me to do anything I wanted within the range of my muscular and mental effort and there would be no harm done, unless possi- bly to myself. But we are not alone. There are many people, and it is true that if 1 wish to do certain things 1 am not only subject to the limitation of my actual nature, I am also subject to the limitation that I am not the only man living in the world. These two things limit my field of possibility and my enjoyment of life must be limited by those two things. 10 Darrow- Starr Debate. I reduce my system of pedagogy to very narrow limits. I sometimes am asked what is proper to teach to young people. And I think of a boy more naturally than of a girl when we speak of being educated, and I have often said there are two things a boy should be taught, from the time he begins to be old enough to gain any knowledge from the world. One is to recognize and demand his rights; the other is to recognize and admit the rights of others. That is the only education that anybody needs; that is the only education necessary to make life happy; it is the only sort of training that young people ought to have. Still, let us come to detail. There are, then, two ways in which we must look at this life if it is to be lived with the idea of having it worth while. The first is with reference to ourselves; the second is with reference to others. Schopenhauer — a name which I suspect our friend on the left has heard — Schopenhauer recognized three kinds of pleasure. Notice that he speaks of them as pleasures. First, vital energy, such as food, drink, digestion, sleep, rest, and so forth and so forth; next, muscular energy, and under this he mentions sport and exercise, and so on; third, sensibility. Enjoy vital energy, muscular energy and sensibility. None should be neglected. The best man is one who has all developed evenly and suitably. Health is largely a matter of one's thought. I am not a Christian Scientist, but 1 know most people are well when they think least about themselves; that they think least about them- selves w^hen they are most w^ell. A person with a little the matter with him can make it infinitely worse if he chooses. Of course he can. I have already said that sickness exists. I am going to leave Mr. Darrow to find all these horrors for you; he \fi\\ find them. I admit all these things exist. It is unfortunate that they exist. I am sorry for the man w^ho is suffering physical pain. I am sorry for the man who is suffering the absolute privations due to poverty. I am sorry for the man who suffers from the meanness and wickedness of other people. Yes, sorry for all those things. But, after all, we often make things much worse than they need to be. I w^ant to read about tw^o men, suffering under disadvan- tages, who met the disadvantages like men. There is a great deal in not paying too much attention even to the great trou- bles of life, and in meeting them in a manly way. There is the case of Epictetus. I like to talk of the old man. "I must die, but must I then die sorrowing? I must be put in chains. Must I then also lament? I must go into exile. Can I be prevented from going with cheerfulness and content- ment? But I will put you in prison! Man, what are you say- ing? You can put my body in prison, but my mind, not even Zeus himself can overpower." "Is Life Worth Living?" U Jeremy Taylor says: "I have fallen into the hands of thieves; what then? They have left me the sun and the moon, fire and water, a loving wife and many friends to pity me, and some to relieve me, and I can still discourse; and, unless I list, they have not taken away my merry countenance and my cheerful spirit and a good conscience. * * * y\u(j ^^ ^^at hath so many causes of joy, and so great, is very much in love with sorrow and peev- isihness who loves all these pleasures and chooses to sit down on his little handful of thorns." He must be very much in love with sorrow and peevish- ness when he has so much joy in sitting down on his little handful of thorns. There are people who, when you ask them how they are will say: "1 am enjoying very miserable health." We are talking about ourselves. It is the agreement of all opinion that the greatest source of happiness and satisfaction are within ourselves. And the greatest thing that a man can ever have is the matter of personality. It w^as Schopenhauer who said that "happiness exists for the most part in what a man is in himself, and that the pleasure he derives from these blessings will depend entirely upon the extent to which his personality really allows him to appreciate them." If a man is going to be happy he not only must use the different elements toward happiness that exist in his person- ality, but must wisely use his time. You know an idle man is a sad man. A man -who finds something all the time to do is happy. The man who really gets something out of life is the man w^ho does not lose time. Not that one should be running a Marathon race every day and hour. No. But the man w^ho occupies his time sanely and sensibly is the man who gets something worth w^hile out of life. Sir John Lubbock wrote a book on the Pleasures of Life. I like to quote him for certain reasons. "But is it true that the ordinary duties of life in a country like ours — commerce, manufactures, agriculture — the pursuits to which the vast majority are and must be devoted — are in- compatible with the dignity or nobility of life? Surely this is not so. Whether a life is noble or ignoble depends not on the calling which is adopted, but on the spirit in which it is followed." Again : "It is generally the idle who complain they cannot find time to do that which they fancy they wish. In truth, people can generally find time for what they choose to do; it is not really the time but the will that is wanting." I want to say for Sir John Lubbock that w^hen 1 was in London in 1 899, they told me what 1 had not realized before. 12 Darrow-Starr Debate. that Sir John Lubbock was the busiest man in London. He was engaged in large affairs. He was president, trustee, direc- tor in banks of importance; he was the head of many impor- tant organizations; he was member of more important com- mittees than any other man in England. And yet, as you know, he wrote book after book. And these books demanded the most close, rigid, continued, minute investigation. If Sir John Lubbock, the busiest man in London, could write a book on the habits of bees, ants and w^asps, could study the inter- esting relations between insects and flowers, could study the science of biology, if Sir John Lubbock, the busiest man in London — at that time the greatest and most important city, the most vigorous and modern city in the w^orld — could do that, what could not others do if they w^ished? Lord Chesterfield — and it is very rarely that I quote Ches- terfield — said: "It is astonishing that any one can squander away in ab- solute idleness one single moment of that small portion of time which is allotted to us in this world — kno^v the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it." Very good advice, and yet I say we do not want to run Marathon races all the time. We w^ant some rest. So much, then, for ourselves, as viewed with reference to this question as to the occupations of life. Now, as regards others. The adjustment sounds at first difficult. Is it possible for human beings with their wide range of interests, to adjust themselves to each other so that each one has some range within which he can find enjoyment and occupation? As a matter of fact, the adjustment is natural and easy and it has always taken place. Take the two most crowded regions of the world, those two teeming populations, China and India, where there are so many people crowded together that one might think we would find hell on earth and constant quarrel- ing and battling. The contrary is true. In China and in India, there is far more peaceful relationship between men than in most countries. In those countries, where there are such enormous crowds of people, every man, woman and child has Its place, and the place is a hapny one. There is more happi- ness in proportion to the individuals, I firmly believe, in India and China than in most countries on the globe. Our relation to others is an interesting question. "It is only in society," and here again it is Schopenhauer who speaks. It IS only m society that a man's powers can be called into full activity. Now, to be a useful member of society one must do two thmgs. Firstly, what every oioe is expected to do every- where; and, secondly, what one's own particular position in the world demands and requires." Goethe remarks: "Every man ought to begin with himself ar.d make his own happiness "Is Life Worth Living?" 13 first, from which the happiness of the world would follow." There should be first of all thougiht for one's own self. Yes; and then, if it is genuine, if it is wise, if it is based on sense, there will be helpfulness for all in it. It is not necessary to go on a mission to do people good. No. You and 1 and every- body comes every day of their life, into contact with all kinds of people. If we do with reference to each person with whom we come into contact during the day, our part, kindly, wisely and sanely, there would be no problems of humanity left for solving. It is perfectly possible for you and me to make that the very fundamental basis of our life. It is possible for us to say we will not go out of our way to do some distant phi- lanthropy. But if to every man, w^oman and child with w^hom we are brought into daily contact, we play our part aright, we do that much tow^ard making the world as a whole better. Now, it is time for me to sit down. But 1 am going to make an analysis in two chapters of a man for w^hom we have great respect and affection. The first chapter comes at this point. My second chapter will come at the close of my next argument. 1 want to analyze Clarence Darrow^; we may take him as a specific instance. There is nothing like having a case in point that we can bring up and deal with. I believe that Clarence Darrow is a man w^ho gets a lot out of life ; 1 believe there are very few men w^ho get more. 1 know few men who have a better time in the world than he. Let me illustrate: He has pretty good health and strength. 1 have sometimes suspected, 1 am not sure, I have sometimes suspected that he has dyspep- sia, but, on the whole, I think his health is good. It is a great thing to be thankful for and to rejoice in. Health, w^ealth and happiness were the three things 1 told the boys in that high school were suitable to seek. Wealth; 1 don't know anything about Mr. DarroWs bank book, but I heard him say not long ago he was thinking of retiring pretty soon from active life. When a man who has Clarence Darrow' s business thinks about retiring from active life, you may be sure he has as much as he wants or is good for him. So far as happiness is concerned, his life is one long career of happiness. One of his greatest joys in life, of course, is grumbling; it is his long suit. People find joy in all sorts of strange things. And grumbling is a joy to him, of course; otherwise, he would get over it. Now, I would not be surprised if he was to use the word "dope" pres- ently. There are people who have certain phrases that get to be a part of their make-up, just as grumbling is a part of his make-up. There are certain sounds that give them extreme joy. Well, when Mr. Darrow can say "dope", "dope", "dope", "dope", it is like sweet music to his ears. Do not think for an instant 1 would wish to take away from him that 14 Darrow-Starr Debate. pleasure. It does him no harm. It does us no harm. It might be misunderstood by those who do not know him, but to us it is merely one of those things in which he finds pleasure, and we are glad to have him use the word. As for companions. Have you ever been out with Mr. Darrow? Have you ever seen him go into any crowded place at meal time, when the men, the business men of Chicago, are eating? Everybody knows him. It is not only that everybody knows him, but everybody greets him with affectionate respect. Do you think that does not please him? Then you know we all find enjoy- ment in thinking of the heroes of the past. Thomas Carlyle's most taking book was the one on hero worship. The man who has a strain of hero worship is really a happy man. Though Mr. Darrow talks about all sorts of dreadful things most dolefully, he w^orships more human beings than any man I know — Thomas Paine, and Governor Altgeld and other great and good men; he talks about them; thinks of them, has them as companions when all others are aw^ay. Why he en- joys himself all the time! And, then, he is so fond of biology! Is it not a fine thing for a man to have some subject outside of his business that fills his soul with joy? I said one of the things desirable in a man and in life, is activity, activity, activ- ity. He is very interesting in regard to that. In this matter of activity, he is it. But his friends know he is also one of the most lazy of men. The active man who is lazy is frequently the most happily active of active men, the w^orld knows. He begins and ends with grumbling, and I shall now make room for him to present his poor side of this debate. The Chairman: The members and officers probably know if it were not for Mr. Darrow^ Professor Starr: See here; you are not talking in this de- bate. I have a whole chapter of analysis still coming! The Chairman: The Chair rules the Professor out of or- der. If it were not for Mr. Darrow we probably should not have a society to present this debate. We have been on the narrow edge once or twice, and especially recently, but we have to thank Mr. Darrow for coming to the rescue. I will now ask Mr. Darrow to reply to the speech to which you have just listened. MR. DARROW'S FIRST SPEECH. Mr. Darrow Said: Professor Starr has told us what we cannot consider in this question, and what we can consider. Taking what we cannot consider and what we must con- sider, of course, it leaves nothing excepting his view of this question. Now, I think I will prove to him, from biology — and he certainly would not be mean enough to dispute me on biology — that we have a right to consider the future, and "Is Life Worth Living?" 15 that we are bound to consider the past in giving an opinion as to whether Hfe is worth while. It is not a question as to whether I enjoy life or not. I do the very best I can at it, anyhow, and as life goes, I think I do pretty well. But, I am willing to take the professor at his word and say that if I don't think life is worth while with what I get out of it, how is it possible that it could be worth while to anybody that cannot tcike dope? I will show you before I am done, I think, that a very large part of the professor's rules for living are dope, nothing else. Really, we all enjoy hearing him talk, and we are all very fond of him, but he didn't discuss this question. He really gave us some excellent receipts as to the way to live our lives. He told us w^hat we should do and what we should not do in order to maike life happy. Now, that is not even logical, because when he tells me w^hat to do to make life happy he simply tells me what he does or tries to do, to make life happy, and it is not at all certain that I could get happiness that way; and it is still less certain that I could do it if I wished to. His rules for the way to live may be good. They may be worth practicing, so far as we can practice them. But man does not live by rules. If he did, he would not live. He lives by his emotions, his instincts, his feelings; he lives as he goes along. Man does not make rules of life and then live according to those rules; he lives and then he makes rules of life. And, it is really an idle thing for anybody to tell anybody else how to live. Nobody is influenced by other peoples opinions. Each must learn for himself and find out w^here he makes his mistakes, and, per- haps the things he thinks are miistakes are not mistakes after all. No one can figure this out. But, telling you the way to live is not discussing the question of whether life is w^orth while. In spite of the rules, is life worth while? Let me take the simplest one he gives. Thus in spite of the professor be- ing a very able man and a very scientific man, the rule is as old as the first dope fiend. He says "work." Be busy. That is the first rule of living — get busy. Everybody who ever wanted to get rich, especially out of somebody else, has taught this to the people. Benjamin Franklin was one of the main exponents of this idea. Work is the great thing in life. I am inclined to think this is true. Now, let us find the reason for it. The reason is perfectly evident. Why should we work? Why, the professor says, it gets our mind off our- selves. That is true, too. That is the reason for it. If a man works hard, especially at something he is interested in, it takes his mind from himself. That is the only philosophical reason for hard work. There are reasons in the way of getting money which are poor reasons. But, to work hard. 16 Darrow-Starr Debate. especially at what you are interested in, tcikes your mind from yourself. You may get up early in the morning at ten o'clock and try to enjoy yourself for two hours doing nothing. And, you think you have lived a whole lifetime, trying to enjoy yourself. But, if you have w^orked hard, the first time you may think of it, you think it has been fifteen minutes, when it has been a half a day. What does that mean? It means just this: That w^ork is good because it brings non-existence, and that non-existence is the most tolerable of all the forms of matter in life. There is no other answ^er to hard work. And 1 know of almost no one who has studied the philosophy of life but does not finally come up with the proposition that the only thing that makes life tolerable, is hcird work, so you don't know^ you are living. So, I characterize hard work as dope for life. There is one thing in life which is perhaps equal to it, and that is sleep. And, I never saw^ anyone, weary with the labor of life, or weary wth the thought of life, that did not come home to his couch with pleasure in the thought that he would be lost to life for a time, at least. Now, 1 will admit, that this question is not a very satisfactory one for discussion. Per- haps the question cannot be settled by the professor bringing out all the good things in life and on the other hand by my stringing out all the evil things in life. Somehow or other, this must be settled, if settled, upon a much broader basis than that; upon some question of science or some question of philosophy. And, perhaps, it is not capable of being set- tled. Of couse I will say, with Professor Starr, as I said with Professor Foster, I would like to discuss this with a man who believed in it. I would like to discuss the question of whether life is worth living with one who believed that Hfe was of value. I would like to discuss optimism and pessimism with an optimist. And, in the end, I presume this question gets down to optimism and pessimism. And the professor is too wise to be an optimist and too wise to be deluded with the beauty and pleasure of living, and too honest to say that he is. But, let me make a few observations that it seems to me puts this question on somewhat broader lines. First, Pro- fessor Starr has said that whether there is a future life or not, has nothing to do with the question of whether this life is worth living; whether we came from anywhere has nothing to do with it, or whether we are going ansrwhere has nothing to do with it. All life and all experience contradicts him. If man was not cursed with consciousness he would be right. If man was not cursed with memory he could forget the past. And, if he was not cursed with imagination, he would think nothing about the future. But there is no fairly intelligent "Is Life Worth Living?" 17 man or woman who is not bound to think every day in his life of the question of whether life ends all and when that end will come. And with the great mass of men who live upon the earth, the question of the end of life affects their present feeling more than anything else affects it. If any- body says it does not affect it, he is simply bluffing. You may take one of the most eminent scientists of the world. Sir Oliver Lodge, and yet because he has the feeling that 1 have and the feeling that goes with living, that the fate of annihilation is abhorent to the human mind — because of that, he almost consciously deludes himself with the silliest twaddle that has ever moved the minds of men. Do you suppose Sir Oliver Lodge would be a spiritualist if the fear of death or the hope of immortality did not meike him one? Why. there is not a single fact that he reports that could stand for a minute in the light of the scientific analysis that he gives to every question of physical science, and he must know it. What does the great mass of the human race think about this question as to w^hether life is worth living, and whether this is in any way affected by the question of the destiny of Man? Why, since man began to dream dreams and see visions; since he evolved consciousness; since he looked around and asked the meaning of life and of death, he has sought by every means to prove that death is not death. He has braced up his love of life by making for himself a dream that there was something more to life than is shown by science or philosophy, or the facts that are apparent to every- one who thinks. And, take that feeling from the human mind today, and take it suddenly, and it would be paralyzed, and men would not live their lives. There are a few who might live it out. But, to say that the question of the destiny of man does not affect his present happiness is to say that man has neither memory, nor imagination, nor consciousness, nor thought. Men suffer from evils that never coine, and they ex- perience joys that never come. A very large part of our conscious life is dreaming. We believe in happiness that will come tomorrow, and in misery that passed yesterday. We are terrified sometimes by disasters that will come tomorrow, more than we are by those that we lived through yesterday. Man's brain is such that his mind will reach into the future and into the past and all about him, and the future and the past, whether it exists or not, does exist for the present, and is the largest part of the things which affect the happiness or the misery of the man. It is idle to say man must not take into account the question of his origin or the question of his destiny, when he considers whether life is worth living. Is it? 18 Darrow-Starr Debate. Now, I didn't know that I grumbled so much. I don'* know why I should. I have got about through with the blooming game. I am about ready to retire. That does not mean I have money, but I study the actuary tables; I know I am about ready to retire. When I retire — ^well, while I will not be happy, I will not be miserable, and, as life goes, I be- lieve I have as little cause for complaint as almost any person I know. And, I trust that I complain very little. At least I don't mean to. I have lived a life which is, approximately, as good as nothing. Not quite, but somewhere near it. And I will not be very much better off when I am dead; but some what. Does Professor Starr prove that life is worth living, be- cause man is here? If so, that is a simple question. By what process can you prove that everything that is here is worth while? Or, what do we mean by worth while? Of course you can ask a lot of questions in discussing this. Of course, if life is worth living to man because man is here, it is likewise worth living to every animal because it is here. It is worth living to the dog and the mouse and the cat that eats it. Of course, you might say that the life of the mouse is w^orth living to the cat that eats it. It is worth living to the ant and the grasshopper, and to those tiny insects who live only a fraction of an hour. And, in the sight of eternity, the longest human life is just as short. Even if the emotions, in the fraction of a hour, were all pleasant ones, it was not worth while to begin it when it was to end so quickly. The fact that life is here, to my mind, proves nothing, excepting that if you got a certain amount of earth and heat and water — if they were resolved into the simple elements — given these elements in certain proportions under certain conditions, life will develop, just as maggots will in a cheese. Does that prove it is worth while? I cannot see it. It does not prove it in any meaning of the w^ords w^orth while. If it does prove it, then everything is equally worth while, and the living man is no more a part of nature than the corpse. And the well man is no more a part of nature than the sick man. The pleasurable emotion is no more a part of nature than the painful emotion. The fact that it is here simply proves it is here, that is all. The only way that this question can be dis- cussed, it seems to me is as an intellectual or philosophical question: Are the pleasurable emotions of life more than the painful ones? Is there a greater balance of pleasure than pain? And this cannot be discussed without taking into con- sideration every feeling and imagination that influences man, and influences the feelings of man. You cannot settle it by saying life is a question of health, wealth, happiness and wisdom. The second time he said wealth, health and happi- "Is Life Worth Living?" 19 ness, ^ he cut out the wisdom. Happiness surely is not a question of wisdom. It is a question of happiness, and happi- ness is a very complex thing. If life is a question of happi- ness, then it gets back to you, looking it over, with what has past and what is still to come, has it more pleasure or more unhappiness? I believe almost every person who lives gets his pleasure in anticipation. All of the adages and teachings of life are built upon that idea. The young person should store up wisdom so that he may use it in old age — when he does not need it. He needs teeth more than he does wis- dom. By the way. Professor, my digestion is bully. I can eat anything that tastes good and nothing that does not. A person should hoard up money so that he can spend it, and have a good time with it in the future — when he will most likely be dead. We should work today, so that w^e can have a vacation tomorrow. Better take it today, for tomorrow you may be dead and you will get out of w^orking. I ought not to be personal, as the professor was, but I ought to be a very wise man for I have listened to him for two winters with the greatest of profit. I remember once last winter — ^you will excuse me. Professor, for quoting you here? He gave us a wondrous picture of Japan; its beauties, and its glories, and the emotions that he felt in visiting Japan. And, he told us he was going again the following summer, which was last summer. And, there was a very joyful expression on his face in the anticipation of all the fun he would have in Japan. When he got back this fall, he told us that he had been much disappointed w^hen he went to Japan; things didn't turn out the way he thought they were going to. And w^hen I heard him say that he had been disappointed the last time he went to Japan, I was quite sure, that when he remembered his trip to Japan, he had a better time remembering it than when he took it. And, I fancy that, if it is not good biology, it is good psychology. If I could ever have as good a time when I went on a vacation as 1 anticipated before I went, I w^ould hope to die while I w^as gone. So, the past does get into it, and the future gets into it. And, if you work hard there is no present. Let us see what the experience of man says — and really I don't pretend there is any way to absolutely settle this question — but let us see what all human experience says about it. Everybody, after they begin to think a little, and before they can think much, makes a heaven for themselves. There, the streets will be paved with gold. Christian heaven. Of course, I could picture something that looked better to me. In heaven, there will be no weeping or wailing or gnashing of teeth. They will not even have teeth. The streets will be paved with gold. That makes it alluring to a Christian banker. 20 Darrow-Starr Debate. You can play on a harp forever. Your friends will not die. I don't know about your enemies, but your friends will not die. There will be no marrying or giving in marriage; noth- ing but one long dream of joy! You won't even have to work to forget yourself — you will not want to forget your- self; you will want to walk on the gold pavement. And, the poor old grandmother sits by the fireside mumbling, dream- ing, happy, because she is going to heaven. And, the human race forgets its miseries and its sorrows because it is going to heaven. And man is happy in spite of himself because it is living on this pipe dream — I was going to say dope. Now, isn't that just exactly what man does? From the Methodists up to Sir Oliver Lodge? All of them? From the highest to the lowest, they consciously use every effort in their power to delude themselves with this myth of happi- ness; this will o the wisp is right in front of them. And, I suppose w^hen they close their eyes for the last time they see before them this illusion of the golden gates, and all the rest of the business opening before them. Now, my friend quoted Epictetus, the stoic. Well, he was somewhat like my friend, quite a bluffer. He said "What is the difference whether I am loaded with chains, my mind is free?" Well, that is a sort of self -hypnotism, if it is true. "What is the difference whether I am hungry or cold; my mind is free? You can do nothing to my mind, anyhow." Well, I wish they could do something to mine. That is the trouble with people. Before a piece of clay awoke to con- sciousness, it was getting along all right, but when it awoke, then came the trouble. Now, is there any philosophy in Epictetus? Why, it is a great, big bluff. I think one ought not to complain of his troubles. Nobody is interested in them. I would rather hear other people's troubles than to talk about mine. Then I can forget mine. One of the prime receipts for being happy, which I will suggest to the pro- fessor, is hard work. I used to be taught that when I was a boy and wanted the moon — I haven't wanted it very lately — I don't know what in the dickens I would do with it if I had it and then I know I can't get it — one way not to worry about what you cannot get is not to want it; one of the prime ways. They used to tell us when we felt bad, to think how much worse somebody else was. You have heard that, haven't you? That proves that life is worth living, doesn't it? If I go out on the street, and get run over, taken to the hospital and lose a leg, I can be happy by thinking of some poor fellow in France that lost both of his! If I get one eye knocked out I can get joy thinking of the blind! Now, that IS a receipt for happiness. And, it is a good receipt; it is given out by everybody. Well, you are not happy today. "Is Life Worth Living?" 21 All right. Think how much better off you are than some people. That proves that life is worth living. That is it proves that it is not quite so bad as it might be. Of course, emotionally, one may stick around, because while we live, we want to live. But, 1 think 1 am going to be happier next year than 1 was last year. Of course I know I will not be, but 1 think I shall. 1 think next week will be a good week. Last w^eek was not so good. Next week w^ill be fine. And next summer vacation w^ill be good. Of course, as I said here before, I might run into some mosquitoes, or some people, but I am not thinking about them now, because it is next year. That is what 1 ran into last year. Pretty much all of it is in the imagination. And 1 don't condemn the dope fiend. 1 think he is — 1 was going to say wise, but I will do better than that by him — I think he is foolish, and, blessed be foolishness! When you leave the cruder religions of the world, and men begin to get up w^here they cannot believe quite all that has been said, then they turn to Epictetus, and he w^as one of these self-deluding mortals who could sit on a pin and say, "Why, my mind is free.' Of course, that is not even scientific. For a man's mind, w^hatever it is, depends upon his brain whatever it is, and that is a part of his body, what- ever it is. So that he is not free; it depends entirely upon his body. It is just a bit of bluffing. Epictetus and a few other stoics bluffed their w^ay through the world until their philosophy played out and now it has been taken up by the Christian Scientists, who say: Oh, no, there is no such thing as corns, they are in the head, not on the toes." "There is no such thing as death. The friend you loved that made up a large part of the pleasures of life, is not dead. He has just passed on." Just passed on! Things are not what they seem to be. God is love and love is God. There is no sin; there is no pain only a condition of mind. Well, with the most of them there is no mind; so there is nothing! Does all of that prove that life is worth living? It proves that it is not worth living. 1 will tell you why it proves it. It proves that there is nobody on earth who can stand the realities of life. That is what it proves. It proves that when the consciousness of life comes to one who is intelligent, that he straightway uses every effort in his power to prove that life is not life; pain is not pain and death is not death; that he takes every dope that is given him by someone else to make him dream, and if he cannot find anything given him by someone else that will put him to sleep, he makes one for himself that puts him to sleep. And, if perchance, he is too intelligent, even to manufacture a dope that will put him to sleep, and if he cannot find one that will put him to sleep. 22 Darrow-Starr Debate. then he resorts to hard work, so he cannot think of himself. Looking life over 1 have nothing to complain of — I am a real optimist; it might have been worse. There is optinaism for you. It might have been worse. And, in spite of the pleasures that I have experienced in studying biology and listening to lectures on anthropology, and in spite of the companionship of my friends, and in spite of good food and vacations, in spite of all these — and I have had my full share of them — and a good digestion with it — and before I finish that sen- tence I want to call attention to one thing my friend sug- gested, then I will go back where 1 left off. He said digestion is good. Eating tastes good, but if you eat too much it hurts you. Well now, why should it? You like to eat, but if you eat too much it makes you miserable. What a glorious thought that is, isn't it? Well, in spite of all my pleasures, and all of my friends — I am glad I have so many; if they knew me better, I would have more — in spite of all of these, when I look back over life, with the many pains 1 have suffered that happened, and the many more I have suffered that did not happen, the greatest satisfaction that I find in any of it is when I am asleep. And, intellectually, I feel it will be the best thing that can happen to me — to go to sleep again. Still emotionally and physically, I draw back from it, just like everyone else who ever lived. All this enters into my personal feeling of whether life is worth while. But as an intellectual question, I insist that practically everything that my friend has said and practically everything that everyone says in favor of optimism and the worth-whileness of life — pretty near all of it— proves that life is not worth while; that it is an un- pleasant interruption of nothing, and the best thing you can say of It IS that it does not last long. ***** The Chairman: Professor Starr will continue the debate. PROF. STARR'S SECOND SPEECH. • .iT^'^^^'ij'' ?*^" ^^^''^'■r ^'''^' ^'*^ *^^ ^^^ best intentions m the world I tned to find some argument in what was said that called for answer. I am quite serious in saying this. I wanted to find something that called for answer. There were suggestions made which called forth loud applause. Yet each time you made applause after such suggestions, I felt certain that when you thought it over you would see the fallacy your- selves. The only new thought that seems to me to call for discussion ,s the question of death. And, inasmuch as that "Is Life Worth Living?" 23 what I had in mind before, and not vary it nor change it, be- cause of the argument presented. I was really surprised at the readiness with which he ac- cepted a good deal that I said. I didn't expect it. I confess that much of his speech — the more serious part of his speech — was a very strange address for a Rationalist. Still, we will let that pass. Hard work he mentioned; yes, hard work. And you realize, that hard work is the joy of life. You know it is. He cannot get around it by foolish statements such as he made regarding hard work being dope. You knew he would have to talk about dope anyway. He says he did not realize that he was a grumbler. Of course he did not. When he first spoke about my referring to him as a grumbler, the thought came into my mind to say it is second nature to him, but that would be an error; it is first nature. So, of course, he is unconscious of the fact that he is a grumbler! In my remaining argument I have two or three points I wish to emphasize. It seems to me that nothing in what Mr. Darrow has said in the way of reply to what I had presented, really calls for answ^er. But there are some things that I would add to what I said. First, it is very common, of course, for people to realize that they may have made mistakes or that they may have got themselves into hard positions. They may have lost oppor- tunities which, when once passed, looked promising. It is not worth w^hile to w^aste your life in mourning over the oppor- tunities you missed. It is not w^orth w^hile laying too much stress upon the mistakes that you have made. No. Those things are past. Learn from them. Avoid similar mistakes, if possible, in the future, but do not waste time, eternally harp- ing on mistakes that you have made. Profit by your mis- takes and let them go. It it is something that you can rectify, rectify the error that you made; otherwise, let it go, and be a better and wiser man for the fact of the error or the mistake. Mr. Darrow referred to the other point I had in mind, the fact that w^e worry a great deal about the things that lie ahead. He did not put it exactly in that way, but he suggested that we hope a good deal for the future, and we look forward w^ith dread a good deal to the future. 1 think few people ever really have been so miserable that they could not stand their miseries if they were sure they had reached the end. The un- certainty, the doubt, the fear, the dread lest things may not be so good in the future, or that the worst may come, is cor- roding, and destroying, yes. Constant anxiety in regard to the future, destroys the happiness of life for many a person. I have often thought if only we could be sure regarding the present moment that it is the very bottom, we should laugh really with joy, no matter how great the burden; no matter 24 Darrow-Starr Debate. what the pain may be, if we were absolutely certain that it was the worst. Why, we could stand that; and we could think as we have stood that, the worst is past. Uo not be over anxious. Grapple with troubles when they come; meet difficulties as they arise; use your best efforts to be happy and do not give way to constant dread and fear of things that may never come, or worse conditions that probably will not come. It seems to me that old age is far from dreadful. 1 here are many people who think of old age as being simply a pain- ful and sad condition. A great deal depends upon how one has used their younger years. One may look back over a hfe well spent with pleasure. And one of the greatest happi- nesses of life certainly is in thinking over the joys that one has gone through or things that one has undertaken and succeeded in; the good that one has done. A well spent life niakes a happy age. It is not a good reason why one should do well today in order that he may come to look back upon it tomor- row; but it certainly is one of the joys of life, when one may look back upon well-spent years. The matter of death is one that we all face; one that we all know will happen. There were fallacies of course in that description of the vacation which we will take today, because we might die tomorrow; the fallacy there is quite easy to see; but let that pass.. I think Mr. Darrow and a great many people overestimate the horror of death. I cannot see why we make such sweeping statements in regard to the universal fear of death. It is not true that mankind at large has an all-con- suming fear and terror in regard to death. It is entwined in the surroundings under which we have been brought up; to us death has been rendered horrible, and has assumed frightful forms. We as a people are brought up from early childhood to look on death as the great disaster, the one awful thing. However, there are w^hole populations w^here death has rela- tively little terror; where one may say the horror of death, such as we hold it, is almost unknown. I object on the part of hundreds of millions of people, against assigning to them, and asserting of them, that same foolish and criminal fear of death which w^e, ourselves, harbor and hold. I am thankful to say, even among ourselves, there are per- sons not afraid to die. It is true that our religious training — it is true that the books we read — it is true that the papers that we read — it is true that the songs we sing, all speak in this way of death. But, it is an unnatural w^ay of speaking. It is not the human attitude toward death. On the part of the rest of humanity, I object to such an assertion and as- sumption. Even among ourselves, it is not true that all are afraid of death. There are men who have lived so well, and who have so well occupied themselves with sound and sane "Is 'Life Worth Living?" 25 action through life, that they meet death without fear, and without a shudder. Mr. Darrow is very fond of speaking of those persons as bluffers. It is not bluffing. Goethe died without apparent suffering, having just prepared himself to write and expressed his delight at the return of spring. It was no bluff on the part of Plato who died when in the act of writing. It was no bluff when Lucan died reciting a part of his book on the War of Pharsalus nor when Blake died sing- ing. No. Of these people, some were Pagans; but, Goethe lived in Christendom. There are people who die in Christen- dom without belief and without fear, without a shrinking back before the end. When I was in Japan the last time — and by the way I want to say Mr. Darrow misunderstood my attitude towards my last visit to Japan. It is true that I complained bitterly of the high cost of living; it is true when I found myself in Japan, I was unable to do one-half the things I had planned simply because the high cost of living was such that I had to draw in my expanding tentacles and sit tight there in Tokio. But, I never said I was disappointed in my visit. It was a trip of joy; happy during the time, happy in the anticipation, happy in the retrospect. He received a wrong impression there. However, that is a personality you will forgive. I want to tell you a little incident that came to my knowledge in my last visit to Japan. I want to describe a death that took place beween my two last visits. My little interpreter decided that he would like to learn archery. It is an art w^hich the Japanese have carried to a fine development. Even today there are to be found some fine representatives of old Japan who know and teach archery. The boy, during my absence, found such an old teacher. There were about thirty-five who used to take their lessons from the old man. Archery in Japan is very exacting, rigid and precise; every detail is regulated; it is a fine art. The boy made advancement. During the year the old man died. Before he died, knowing the end was nearing, he sent word to each one of his pupils to come, and thirty-four gathered at his bed. The old man greeted them; the bows and arrows were brought out and laid be- side him; he gave them a few last directions, and then he said: "Friends, students: I have done what I could for you; try, try, try to become perfect." And with those words he di.ed. Just like that. As soon as the words were uttered, his eyes closed, and the old man was gone. There was no bluffing there. There was no fear there. That man hadn't been looking forward toward the end of life with terror. He looked upon death as a perfectly %atural end, like waking out of a sleep, like going to sleep. He didn't look upon it as a frightful thing that he should dread to have the end 26 Darrow-Starr Debate. approaching. No, it is among ourselves and those brought up in the same way, that death has been given its horrors. I said we knew^ nothing about the past from which the in- dividual comes, and nothing of the future into which he goes. I meant just that, and it was said in order to cut this out from the argument. But, there is a past to which we are related; there is a past that means much to every man that lives well. Of course, there is. Out from that past has come the stimulus, the helpfulness, the high thought, the inspiration that makes the bulk of our joys of life. In that sense, w^e all of us live in the past. We all draw from the past. The past means everything to us. And so again, w^hen we die, that is not the end, no. Everybody who has come into contact with us has felt our impress. Hundreds of people remember, after we are gone, the good we did them, the influence we exerted on them. What w^e do lives after us. Whether there is a future existence, individually, for us, we do not know. I am in no haste to die, but 1 do not fear death. I hope to live for some time yet; 1 hope to teach and help many a man, woman and child to better life, to greater happiness. 1 hope, too, that they will be better and that something of my life will continue in them w^hen my life here comes to an end. I believe that and hope it, thoroughly and completely. In other words, there is a future, and if we live our lives right, the future is the better for our having lived and been here. Lastly, you remember I had a chapter left over. It w^as a chapter of Clarence Darrow^ and our analysis of him. You remember we were talking first of the individual in himself, and secondly of his relation to others. In the first chapter of my analysis, I said Clarence Darrow w^as a pessimist, a cheerful pessimist. We spoke of his personal life: How now, of Clarence Darrow^ in society, toward others? Has Clarence Darrow helped people in his daily life here, now. You know he has. And, in that helpfulness, he has found joy! This Society, as Mr. Lewis told you — ^he had no right to tell you, yet you heard him call me to order for saying so — Mr. Lewis should have kept still when the debate was under weigh. Mr. Darrow has served this society. Yes. Do you think he deserves too much thanks? No, he got as much joy and pleasure out of his service as you did. Mr. Darrow: Probably more. Professor Starr: In serving you and helping this society, in having an interest here, he gains true joy. You know about his clients. You know that when others will refuse a case because there is no money, or because it is desperate, he will take it. You know what his life is. You know how it is lived with reference to others. You know how many poor men he "Is Life Worth Living?" 27 has helped out of serious perplexities. And, do you think that when he dies, he ends? No, no. The gentle memory remams when he has gone. Ends? Why, it is enough to read Farmington, to know better. Farmin^on will live after he has gone. An abiding influence. Is that worth while? It is worth while to have lived one's life so that one has joy through the days and weeks and years? Joy of anticipation? Joy in hard work? Joy in the retrospect? Helpfulness while he lives; blessing in death; excerting an influence beyond. Life such as that is well worth living! The Chairman: You will hear from Mr. Darrow. MR. DARROW'S SECOND SPEECH. Mr. Darrow said: Well, my friend's very kind words make it hard for me to debate. Of course, I cannot discuss that question with him because he is right. He and 1 ought not to debate. Of course, I do appreciate the feelings of my friend. I want to say a few words seriously. Perhaps I w^as not serious before. Life to me is a joke. That is the w^ay 1 get by. It is an aw^ful joke. A joke on me partly. But, seriously, I am not certain if Professor Starr is right on what he says about death — he certainly should know^ more about that subject than I do — ^w^hether there are hundreds of millions of people in the world who do not view death the way w^e Christians look at it. I confess that I don't know. And it is a topic that I would like to hear discussed by him fully because to Christians, like we people, it is an important question. And, if there are people in the world, and people who live close to nature, who, on account of their more natural life, or more natural view^s of life, have a different attitude, w^e ought to know it. I, for one, would be glad to know it. 1 have read more or less about this subject. Not so much as Professor Starr has, and of course, he has traveled amongst the primitive people a great deal. 1 supposed that they had the same feeling toward death that we civilized people have; but perhaps not. Really, don't the primitive people have it. Professor Starr? I am asking seriously. Professor Starr: Nothing to the degree we have. You used the word I refrained from using, the population that fears death. Mr. Darrow: I didn't use the word fear with that attitude toward it. Professor Starr: Fear, the higher idea. Mr. Darrow: I fancy that they must. Even the primitive religions are based on immortality and I fancy that while the feeling may not be as strong with them as it is with us, it 28 Darrow-Starr Debate. must be very substantial. It certainly enters into everything with what we call civilized people. It is not quite the right thing to say, fearing death. Personally, I have the same con- cern about it that everybody else has. I cannot imagme an intelligent person who has not. You know that any minute your best friend may be taken. You know that every day, those you love drop out by the wayside without warning. To know that the most important plans may come to nothing in a moment. There is nothing in life that compares in seriousness with it. Whether a man could so live that he would not care about it, that is a most important question. Whether he can take life as life is, and give up the thought of a future life and think very little of death. I don't know how he can do it while in full health and the possession of his faculties. Now let us look a little closer into that question. I am quite aware that I do not fear death. I don't expect to go to hell. I expect after death I am going to be — I was going to say happy — but I expect not to be unhappy. I expect to even be better off than as if I was working. I expect to be asleep, and not even dreaming. But, that in no w^ay takes away my w^ill to live, which is present while I live, and it in no way takes away my imagination which shows me how brief everything is, and how^ the deepest loves in life bring the deep- est pain; and makes me hesitate many times to bring my friends real close to me — because I know what the shock will be when we part. It seems to me that goes with living. I would be glad sometime to hear Professor Starr tell us more about it. The very fact that we never discuss it — of course, I discuss it more or less. I do that just to get used to it. I fancy that the man in Christian society w^ho thinks less of death than anybody else, is the sexton, because he is dealing with it all the time. And, if I get to talking about it all the time I sort of get used to it. That is a way I have. It may be good or bad, but I fancy that there is no avoiding the shock that comes with the thought of it to intelligent people, who do not take refuge in the idea of immortality, or future life. I can see nothing in the thought that one who lives a good life is better content to lay it down than one who does not live a good life. I think the biggest sinners die the easiest, because they generally see heaven in front of them. The witch-burners, the fellows who build fires to make people religious. The prohibitionists. And that kind of people. Of course, I am happy when they die. They die happy in the anticipation of what is coming to them. Of course if they knew what was coming to them they might not feel so good. I don't think goodness has anything whatever to do with whether a man is willing to die or not, or with how long "Is Life Worth Living?" 29 he lives. He couldn't live long by being good. It is pro- verbial that the good die young. I believe this myself, in spite or the fact that I am getting along some. One lives in accordance to the way they are adjusted to their environ- ment. And if they have a crooked environment, they have to learn to grow crooked, or they will be up against some- thing. Life has nothing to do with that. And I fancy death has not to do with it. I still think these people who say they are glad to die and are not looking for something, are really bluffing; they are Stoics, or Spartans; they steel them- selves to it. Take an example. Suppose very suddenly there is a cry of fire here in this room. It would terrify all of you. How many times has it happened? Why, it has happened in theatres over and over again; happened in this town. What extraordinary measures people take to save their livesl Even the devout Christian, w^hen he is dangerously sick, sends for a doctor instead of a preacher. People will consent to be carved up ; have anything happen to them, even give up their money, rather than die! And, of course, this does enter directly and most directly into the feelings all of us have on the subject of whether life is worth living. And, let me make another suggestion right here. Sup- pose the Professor is right. Suppose there are no feelings of reluctance at the thought of death; supposing humanity reached that point, in some way, that it w^as perfectly willing to die. What does that prove? I fancy that proves that life is not w^orth living! It w^quld seem so to me. When I was a boy I never wanted to quit playing baseball or eating pie; I never w^anted to come in at night when I w^as out play- ing with the boys; I never w^anted to get up in the morning when I was sleeping, especially if I had to work. I was living a physical existence, and all right for the time. If men were happy; if life was happy; if it was worth w^hile, it would be impossible to welcome death! And that, to my mind, is the great fact that settles this whole subject. I don't care about settling it. I am conscious that on many things Professor Starr and I think alike. I am proud to say it. But I find it hard to debate with him. I would prefer that this audience could see from such facts as Professor Starr has given us, some consolations for life, and some belief that on the whole it is worth while. But, the great fact in it is this, that the intense joy of life makes death a nightmare; it is the skeleton at every feast, and it is the only sure thing which says: No, there is no such thing as joy. Take that away; get a state of mind in the world where men are willing to die, and it can only mean one thing, that they are, at least, indifferent to life, and therefore, it is not worth while. I think w^e take life too seriously. Perhaps it would be better that w^e did not. We 30 Darrow-Starr Debate. all take ourselves too seriously. Life is at least not much worth while. We make too much of it. Perhaps we would be happier if we made less. I want to read you just m clos- ing a short statement that I found from Sir Arthur J. Balfour, the English statesman, which seems to me to put this question of life, and of man, and of his existence on earth, better and simpler and more concisely than I have ever seen it before. It is from his well-known work, "Foundations of Belief. "Man, so far as natural science by itself is able to teach us, is no longer the final cause of the universe, the Heaven- descended heir of all the ages. His very existence is an acci- dent, his story a brief and transitory episode in the life of one of the meanest of the planets. Of the combination of causes which first converted a dead organic compound into the living progenitors of humanity, science indeed as yet knows nothing. It is enough that from such beginnings famine, disease, and mutual slaughter, fit nurses of the future lords of creation, have gradually evolved, after infinite travail, a race with con- science enough to feel that it is vile, and intelligence enough to know that it is insignificant. We survey the past, and see that its history is of blood and tears, of helpless blundering, of wild revolt, of stupid acquiescence, of empty aspirations. We sound the future, and learn that after a period, long com- pared with the individual life, but short indeed compared with the divisions of time open to our investigation, the energies of our system will decay, the glory of the sun will be dimmed, and the earth, tideless and inert, will no longer tolerate the race w^hich for a moment disturbed its solitude. Man will go down into the pit, and all his thoughts will perish. The un- easy consciousness, which in this obscure corner has for a long space broken the contented silence of the universe, will be at rest. Matter will know^ itself no longer. "Imperishable monuments" and "immortal deeds," death itself, and love stronger than death, will be as though they had never been. Nor will anything that is be better or be worse for all that the labour, genius, devotion, and suffering of men have striven through countless generations to effect." It seems to me that is life; that is man. Is it worth while? I want to make just one confession on this question. I know the Professor will agree with me on this. I take dope. I have tried pretty nearly every dope on earth. Somehow it doesn't catch. I am no different in what I try to do than the silly fellow who says: Love is God and God is love. If I could believe God is love and love is God, I would do it. I cannot. To me life is of little value. I don't mean to me individually, but as I see life. This great senseless, wasteful, cruel spawn- ing of life upon the earth! I see not only its pain, but its "Is iLiPE Worth Living?" 31 pleasures, and its joys annoy me more than its sorrows, for I don t want to loose them. I love my friends; 1 love people; I love life; but its everlasting uncertainty; its infinite miseries; its manifest futility; its unavoidable troubles and its tragic end appalls me. That is the truth about it. And, I am glad to take refuge in the one consolation, which I think is philosophy, but which may be dope, that life does not amount to much, and I should worry! PROF. STARR'S LAST SPEECH. Professor Starr said: I hope that you listened carefully to the quotation from Mr. Balfour. I will only say if you did, and it sank deeply, you will realize more than ever, first, that we are not responsible for being here; second, that we , should therefore get all that w^e can while w^e are here, be- cause whatever is true of the future, we are here. Make- the most of it! FINIS CHOICE BOOKS - Order by Mail From Arthur M. Lewis, 54 Burton Place, Chicago. You can get the following now or during the summer' from the office of the "Workers University Society" given above. • For or- ders less than one dollar, postage stamps will serve. These prices include postage. Farmington. Clarence S. Darrow. ^1.50. Introduction to Sociology. Arthur M. Lewis. $1.25. 4 Savage Survivals. J. Howard Moore. $1.25. ^^^' God and My Neighbor. Robert Blatchford. $\.2sM % THESE, 60c CLOTH Evolution, Social and Organic. Arthur M. Lewis. Struggle Between Science and Superstition. Arthur M. Lewis. Art of Lecturing. Arthur M. Lewis. Ten Blind Leaders of the Blind. Arthur M. Lewis. Evolution of Man. Boelsche. Triumph of Life. Boelsche. Life and Death. Teichmann. End of the World. Meyer. THESE, 25c; ANY FIVE, $L00. Lewis Nearing Debate, Will Christianity Save tne World? Darrow Nearing Debate, Will Democracy Save the World? Darrow Foster Debate, Is Life Worth Living.? Darrow-Foster Debate, Is the Human Will Free? Darrow-Kennedy Debate, The League of Nations. Darrow-Kennedy Debate, Is the Human Race Progressing? Darrow-Kennedy Debate, Will Socialism Save the World? Darrow-Starr Debate, Is the Human Race Getting Anywhere? Darrow-Starr Debate, Is Life Worth Living? I Darrow Lectures, (l) Voltaire. (2) War Prisoners (3) Foster and Altgeld Memorial. Starr Lectures. (1) Origin of Religion. (2) The First Men. (3) The Modern World Problem.