producing a flock of such charming
children as those we see about us. [Cheers.]

But putting parables aside, I am unable to understand how anyone with a
knowledge of mankind can imagine that the growth of science can threaten
the development of art in any of its forms. If I understand the matter
at all, science and art are the obverse and reverse of Nature's medal,
the one expressing the eternal order of things, in terms of feeling, the
other in terms of thought. When men no longer love nor hate; when
suffering causes no pity, and the tale of great deeds ceases to thrill,
when the lily of the field shall seem no longer more beautifully arrayed
than Solomon in all his glory, and the awe has vanished from the
snow-capped peak and deep ravine, then indeed science may have the world
to itself, but it will not be because the monster has devoured art, but
because one side of human nature is dead, and because men have lost the
half of their ancient and present attributes. [Cheers.]

ROBERT GREEN INGERSOLL

THE MUSIC OF WAGNER

[Speech of Robert G. Ingersoll at the banquet given in New York City,
April 2, 1891, by the Liederkranz Society to Edmund C. Stanton,
director of German Opera in New York, and Anton Seidl, orchestral
conductor. William Steinway presided, and called upon Robert Ingersoll
to speak to the toast, "Music, Noblest of the Arts."]

MR. TOAST-MASTER:--It is probable that I was selected to speak
about music, because, not knowing one note from another, I have no
prejudice on the subject. All I can say is, that I know what I like,
and, to tell the truth, I like every kind, enjoy it all, from the
hand-organ to the orchestra.

Knowing nothing of the science of music, I am not always looking for
defects, or listening for discords. As the young robin cheerfully
swallows whatever comes, I hear with gladness all that is played.

Music has been, I suppose, a gradual growth, subject to the law of
evolution; as nearly everything, with the possible exception of
theology, has been and is under this law.

Music may be divided into three kinds: First, the music of simple time,
without any particular emphasis--and this may be called the music of the
heels; second, music in which time is varied, in which there is the
eager haste and the delicious delay, that is, the fast and slow, in
accordance with our feelings, with our emotions--and this may be called
the music of the heart; third, the music that inc