{ } = word or expression can't be understood
{word} = hard to understand, might be this be told where we stand. We developed first the thesis that the 18th century saw the domination of the Church membership in this country as the main social task of the -- that the 19th century has seen the political allegiance leading the way; and that now at this moment, we are faced with the economic position of the human in soc- -- that -- society therefore always is of a trinitarian type, that these strands are all present with us, but that the limelight is held in different ages, by different activities.

Just to give you an example: I went over the reports of the United States Supreme Court the other day. And it is quite amazing to find how many political and religious questions are decided in the 19th century, and how many economic in the 20th. It's -- you wouldn't believe that it is the same court, so to speak, you see, because the -- these judges have -- are faced now with absolutely new t- -- issues that have never appeared before. And the old issues seem to be unfortunately largely even forgotten. I'm going to read in the -- today or the next time some of the old decisions of the Supreme Court. And it will amaze you to find that they are perfectly aware of the post-Christian character of our civilization; that is, that the basis of America is Christianity, and on top of it is a little Greek, humanistic tinge.

Now, after having explained to you this march, this strange alternation of leading language, and leading ideas, and leading movements, I have set out to show you the gradual translation of a denominational, r- -- religious language into a new political language. And I have tried to show you so far -- I have made an incision in the year of the Lord 1850 and 1851. And I hope that by -- before we have the vacation, I may then be right there on the year 1851, and I shall try to run out this -- round out this picture by speaking of Herman Melville, who in -- in this very decisive year wrote his two main -- most important books, MobyDick and Pierre, spanning 300 years of American history in this way. Now he has been much injured by the literary critics, who only think of a man who publishes a book in one year that it belongs to this year. Nothing of course is further from the truth. Do you think that Shakespeare belonged to the year 1599 when he wrote Hamlet? He belongs, of course, to us. And the same is true of the prophets. And the same is true of any decent human being, that where his soul speaks, he has nothing to do with the date of publication, or with the question whether his book is a best-seller at the time or not.

So I think most of your groá -- great men today are buried in the courses of English in this college, and in other colleges of the land, because nobody understands that when -- our souls live in eternity, on -- on a wavelength that

has absolutely nothing to do with the date the newspaper carries.

So Herman Melville I want to vindicate as the great, main pillar of the two arcs of American history: one reaching backward from 1851, and one reaching backward beyond your and my time. And you will only understand history at all if you know that we talk about it to save that what -- the future -- that part of the future that has already started from your obstruction. You are obviously in many ways far behind the great men that lived before us. And I am, too. And all of -- effort that history make is to show you that these men started something which we now in blindness and deafness try to destroy and try to prevent from ripening, from maturing. And that's history. Nothing else is history. All the rest is dust. There are no facts in history. There are only fiats. And you and I stand in the way, that these things that our forefathers started can reach their -- their perfection, their completion. And we are in the middle of the stream. And we either obstaculate the stream, you see, by being indifferent, and s- -- lazy, and stupid, and insipid, or egocentric, or whatever you call it, or subconscious, or -- or -- or {mother-tied}, or what-not. And when we hear "history," we can be emancipated from our own generation and live in the ages. And only that, I try to tell you, what cannot be forgotten, lest we have to start all over again.

Now I gave you one book, The American Democrat. This covers the situation of the disintegration of the religious tradition of the 18th century, and the transition from the -- God's people to public. If you read this assignment carefully, then you will find ample material there to show you the trad- -- transition from "people" to "public." It is the obsession, really, with Cooper -- with James Fenimore Cooper. And I don't know if I'm allowed here in this college; if I can, I will allow you to bring this book into the finals, and to write some questions which arise from this book. In any case, you will have to be well acquainted with it, because I'll base part of my questions on this.

Then we come to -- from 1851, of course to 1900, to the Traihson des clercs, to The Treason of the Intellectuals, embodied by this engineer of history, Mr. Brooks Adams. Henry Adams belongs into the same category: these people who went so high-brow because they had so much money that they could travel in Europe, that they deserted the American citizen. This book, however, the des c- -- on the Democ- -- on the law of decay is very important, because it is induced by the threat of -- the new threat of industry to the fut- -- fortunes of the Adams family. When Brooks began -- Adams began this book, he thought he was bankrupt. And well did he -- may believe -- then believe in the decay of civilization.

We always spell our misfortunes, you see, in such general terms when we just mean "us." So "poor me," you see, the book could be entitled. But it is entitled

The Law of --. And that's why the book is very important, because we are surrounded by its successors -- take Dwight MacDonald of The New Yorker, he's -- writes in exactly the same vein, or whether you take Mr. Toynbee, or whether you take Mr. Spengler, and all these prophets of doom, it is around their own -- uncomfortable situation that they write.

And since 1900, there is now a third school of history, the party -- the dryas-dusters, and the other, the debunkers. These are the people who are not -- neither trying to vivify history so that we may get out of the way of its progress. That is -- Cooper, and the others, like Brooks, who are weeping at the rivers of Babylon. But it is the third type--and I'm told that Mr. Nevins was true to form in his performance here the other day--the neutralizers, the people who -- who put the poor corpse into ammonia.

Now always things have to get worse before they can get better. And the defection of the intellectuals in this country from the people has reached such a state that we only can foresee a bright future, because it can't get worse.

Again, however, every one of them of course contributes something or -- which can be useful in a larger context. The deep pessimism, and even indifference, of Mr. Brooks Adams is being needled only by the meaninglessness of history. That's really the main impression you get, that all these ups and downs are just swallowed up. I always am reminded of the peristaltic movement of our bowels. When I read these -- laws of decay and of civilizations, I mean, what am I interested in 23 civilizations of Mr. Toynbee? To hell with them! They are already in hell, but I won't go with them.

This indifference you see, should warn you that we have nothing to do with the history that is just past. If these { } are still, well they are not for us, obviously, because we are out of {the matter}. What do I -- I, however, have to be terrified by the idea that many important experiments and beginnings of the past may be, you see, have done in va- -- been done in vain, because I do not support them. I do not continue them. That's the only relation that makes history is something that has to be taught.

I have a special record which was multiplied, I mean, which is for sale, which is called, "History Must be Told." It is too simple, of course, for scientific purposes, but it is real. History must be told, because it does only exist for the present generation in as far as it is told. The telling is the effort to get you into the swing of things, see. It's not a learning of objective facts, but it's an attempt to move you into this -- what already has be- -- been begun. "History Must Be Told."

Well, this I -- all I say only the -- for the practical purpose to convey to you the necessity to go through these three volumes carefully, because they represent the three periods of American social history. One, before 1850; the second, from 1850 to 1900, when the economic growth of this country and the crises of industry kept the limelight. You may also say now, looking backwards, that Cooper is still living in an agricultural 50 years, and Brooks Adams is living under the sway of the railroads, and the gold issue, -- the labor problems: capitalism and socialism. And -- Mr. Nevins and Commager are writing in the ivory tower of too many examinations, of an independent academic body of -- that tries to ruin your brain by examining you. And history will not come into its own in this country unless you insist that there are no examinations in history courses. There can be no examinations in history courses. I shall cheat the registrar by ask- -- asking him to allow you to take the book into the -- and your notes into the exam, you see. Because it is nothing of knowledge. Something of understanding. So take the whole Encyclopaedia Britannica into the exam. I don't -- I don't want to make you stupid. And if I reduce what I try to tell you here to these bare facts which I have to mention to illustrate the movement of history, obviously I would reduce you to the dead weights, the dead matter, that which sinks to the ground in a clear water, but certainly it is only that part which pollutes the full understanding and the drinking of the fresh fountain water.

I once had to teach in a school where there were many Communists. It's not so long ago that this could happen to a man. And they were ranking against me, and tried to demote me. And the city slickers, of course, were all -- felt that I was too poetical, and too -- too -- well -- well, not -- not according to the party program, of course. And there was one man who was the secretary of a rural cooperative, who happened to be taking this course among these union men and other men, too. And it has been the proudest moment of my life that when he was -- there was an inquiry, and I was to be thrown out. And he said, "Well, if I listen to this man, it's as if I went through a forest and had a drink of fresh water." I think that's what history is about. I have never hear- -- received a better compliment.

The second point I am try- -- would like to make today, in order to set your mind a little more at rest is that there are some gleanings from my readings which I think might -- from my knowledge, which in the -- the heat of battle I didn't mention, to the various points I made; and this may bring back to you the several points. I asked you to write a paper on this constant struggle of America between its incorporated and organized territories and the wider world to which it aspired. And this is still before you. And don't forget that you have to write the paper.

But I like to bring to you a s- -- a very early statement of this, which I

found in a voluminous, great diplomatic correspondence of the American Revolution. By {Wharton}. Some of you are -- who have worked in -- in -- in American history of course will be quite well acquainted with the -- this tremendous l- -- work of scholarship. It contains all the documents exchanged by Franklin, and John Adams, and John Jay, and all the other diplomats whom the Americans in their trade anxieties sent abroad -- you see, and the reports they gave -- sent back.

Now one of these reports is by John Jay, the -- later the fa- -- father of the famous Jay Treaty of 1795. He was at this time, on November 6, 1780, in the midst of the struggle for independence. The poor man had to live in Madrid, in Spain. And he tried of course to induce the Spaniards, who at that time owned the Mississippi River Valley, you see, to come out in favor of the -- of the Americans. The only reason, of course, the Spaniards had in this respect was their hatred of the British. They had absolutely otherwise not the slightest interest really in the American independence. And so:

"In the evening, the Spanish -- the Spaniard, Mr. {Gardoci}, again paid me--John Jay--a visit and pointedly proposed my offering the navigation of the Mississippi as a consideration for {aids}."

Now we are in 1780. Allegedly the United States nowhere have, you see, crossed into the -- crossed the Alleghenies. And here we are talking about navigation on the Mississippi. And that's really like today's stratospheric, you see, competition -- shooting at the -- Venus. Even it goes faster to shoot at -- the Venus obviously than -- than to go to the Mississippi at that time.

"I told him, that object--navigation of the Mississippi--could not come in question in a treaty for a loan, and Spain should consider that to render alliances permanent, they should be so formed as to render it, the interest of both parties, to observe them."

And now comes the strange sentence. Perhaps you copy it down for your paper. It is quite valuable. John Jay goes on and said:

"That the Americans, almost to a man --."

You look so desperate; do you follow? { }.



"That the Americans, almost to a man, believed that God

Almighty had made that river a highway for the people of the upper country to go to the sea by it; that this country was extensive and fertile..."

That's Illinois, et cetera. The North, I mean. Everything -- up to Minnesota. "That the general"--that's Washington--that Wa- -- he's just called "the general."

"...That the general, many officers, and others of distinction and influence in America were deeply interested in it--in Mi- -- the Mississippi--that it would rapidly settle, and that the inhabitants would not readily be convinced of the justice of being obliged either to live without foreign commodities and lose a certain..."

I shall repeat it. I mean, let me first read the whole thing.

"...either to live without foreign commodities and lose the surplus of their productions or be obliged to transport both over rugged mountains and through an immense wilderness to..."

They -- they admit between the Mississippi and them is "an immense wilderness." Imagine!

" immense wilderness to and from the sea, when they daily saw a fine river, the Mississippi, flowing before their doors and offering to save them all the trouble and expense. And that, without injury to Spain."

Now I think this is im- -- very important:

"That the Americans, almost to a man, believed that God Almighty had made that river a highway for the people of the upper country to go to the sea by; that this country was extensive and fertile; that the general, many officers, and others of distinction and influence in America were deeply interested in it; that it would rapidly settle; and that the inhabitants would not readily be convinced of the justice of being obliged either to live without foreign commodities..."

I -- reduce it a little bit, abbreviated it.

"...or be obliged to transport both over rugged mountains and through an immense wilderness to and from the sea."

I think this word, "through an immense wilderness," shows you the real gap between the organized part of the country, you see, and the vision. And this is, ever since 1780 then, the fate of this country that the vision far outruns the

organization. And so I offer you this as a help for your paper. Yes?

(Excuse me, please. What was the last ha- -- the last half of the sentence after "foreign commodities"? Thank you.)

Here, copy it now. Then everybody else can go to him, and I don't have to waste my time on it.

Now we are back to the story, the story which I have tried to make impressive, and which I have not been able to make so, it seems, is of vegetarianism, women's rights, Abolition, and Prohibition. I have not been succeeded, it seems, to make you see that vegetarianism is just as important and heart-breaking as a problem to us today as, for example, Prohibition or --. Now, why is this so? Because as you know, production of our foodstuffs becomes more and more artificial every minute. And if we go on having chicken coops of the 35,000 chickens, you see, and -- and artificial semination of our bulls, and so on, and our -- of course, our ladies, too, then -- we -- probably will be up in the air, higher up than the airplanes very soon.

And the vegetarians therefore may be spelled, as they already are in part, by those people who are inclined to speak of "natural food," or of -- {biosophic} food, or of -- no artificial fertil- -- fertilization. This -- you may -- may have heard of this. The bread you eat is just ridiculous. I mean, which you allow your children to eat. -- I see children who grow up on white sugar and white bread. Both is -- the only result is for the dentist. And it is -- neither -- no food in it. I mean, bread has -- and then they inject these artificial vitamins later. I mean, it's all laughable. In 50 years, everybody will just think that we were the greatest fools that ever lived. Just because it looks white, you see, it is preferred to the real bread. That's the only reason, you see. Now in China, as you know, you dress white for a funeral. And I am -- recommend that you introduce white for the funeral. Then nobody will -- is going to eat white bread, because it will remind him of death.

Well, you are surrounded by such atrocities, I mean. You eat cheese that is called "Kraft," because it -- it makes you impotent. And -- I mean, you buy camembert, and you buy fromage de Brie, and you bry -- bel paese, you see, and it's all absolutely dead. Now a decent cheese marches on, you see.

Well, I want to -- only to say that much on vegetarianism, that again, as in the case of Prohibition, with Al -- Alcoholic Anonymous, the solution is not that some people say that they won't eat meat, and some say they will--this slip between different groups of people which these movements of the 19th century have tried to create, but that we probably will be faced with the fact that at least

on Sundays, we may enjoy natural food, and only eat artificial food on weekdays. I mean sometime you may taste a real piece of bread, and may allow your children to do so, that they at least learn that such a thing in former times has existed.

If I may say -- do -- show you that these movements are built on the assistance of the public, and that the public consists of numbers, of signatures given to a petition, for example, you see, I -- then you will understand why the final solution is not with the public. Of course, there are other movements. You see, take Christian Science: no medicine on the one-hand side; all the time medicine on the other. And this real solution -- developed in vegetarianism, that it isn't the question: no meat or -- or meat, but it is the question: what kind of food? That is a qualitative statement, not in -- yes or no in the absolute sense. I mean, instead of Alcoholics Anonymous, that it offered a group solution, real people joining, and not 10 million people voting in favor of going dry. And then of course, every one of them being at liberty to drink clandestinely. They are the worst { }. I told you that drinking is a public-spirited affair.

We come now to the woman's question, and there that's very serious and very complicated. And I only wanted first to put the burden of your passionate sympathy a little more on vegetarianism so that you are not too passionate on the woman's question. The same is of course true about Abolition. If you read the s- -- the very impressive and tragic story of William Lloyd Garrison, the great liberator, you are constantly torn between the insight that such a movement as his for the emancipation of the Negro was indispensable and very honorable; and that on the other hand, he has done much to prevent its solution. Because the carpetbagger -- -baggers, obviously, and the -- the government of misrule of the -- in the South, from 1865 to 1878, came from the Abolitionists. And the South may not have been so massively resistant as it is today unless these 30 years of misrule, you see, had not interfered. That's what they always tell us, I mean, that it isn't any debate on -- now on slavery or non-slavery, but their bitter experience of the terrible situations in which they found themselves 10 -- for the -- during the first 10 years after the Civil War. And that of course is, for this Charles Sumner and William Lloyd Garrison are responsible. They impeached even the president who tried to continue the policies, as you know, of Abraham Lincoln, after his assassination. And that's quite something, to impeach the president for following the foot- -- in the footsteps of Lincoln.

Now that's Garrison. That's the -- in a way an incredibly great man. And I think it is not the goal, and it is not his courage and his character which can be criticized, but that he had to work with the public, because the public is a mental quality; the mind is dominating the public. And you will find in the book of Mr. Cooper, who -- this insight. And I -- may I draw your attention to the fact that

you still live 100 years ago in your mental equipment? Because you also have completely forgotten it. That's perhaps the worse aftereffect of these movements, that our mind is fickle. Our mind is a whore, a harlot. The mind is the weakest, the most unconsistent part. It can rationalize and justify everything. You know this. The worst thing when you have blushed is that you be -- your mind begins to prove that you didn't -- have no reason to blush. Of course, you have. But the mind is perfectly willing to offer you some good arguments why you shouldn't. You can always be sure that when you blush, that there is a very profound truth in this fact, that there's every reason to do so. And that your mind better goes home, and you better wait. Next day, you can admit to yourself that you had reason to blush. But in the very minute, you are on the defense, and then your mind begins to erect these defenses.

Now most political utterances in public of course are such defenses against the reasons why people should blush, because our -- the admission of our mistakes is very, very, very, you see, disagreeable. So leave them alone. The soul of man is bashful. If you think that the people have to govern, then you know in any family the real problems cannot be discussed openly. They have to be lived through, quietly. There comes perhaps once an hour when the mother can speak to her son, or the daughter can speak to her father, but not always. The thing has to mature. Sometimes, as I told you, things have to get worse before they can be ex- -- said, you see, because there has been to -- be -- smolder for a while.

Anybody who lives -- tries to live in any human group of people, who tries to say at every minute everything, you see, has to leave the group. He has to be excommunicated, because it's intolerable. Things have to take time. And the mind has no time sense, and no sense of timing. And this is the fate -- has been the fate of all these tremendous, imposing movements of the 19th century, that they had absolutely no sense of timing. They are absolutely right on the surface. They are wonderful, mentally, you see. They give a mental picture, as people say. But to live is not to have mental pictures. But when we speak only from the bottom of our heart, { } speak right, and that wells up at the right moment. One of the things that kill your imagination and your spirit is the permission that has crept into the -- this country, that you speak of the workings of your spirit as having mental pictures. As long as people think that they have mental pictures, they can't think. They just have hallucinations. Because you have to break through your pictures. The pictures are the idols of the antiquity. And you shall have -- shalt -- shall have no idols. They are exactly the same thing. And as far as I see it in our -- your textbooks of education, my dear Phil, this is full of mental pictures. And they are praising it. Well, it's -- that's why the Israelites had to leave Egypt, against the pictures, against the mental and the physical pictures, both.

I -- I went to a bookstore this morning, and I saw these maps of the evolution of mankind, historiopathy, or however you call it. I mean, have -- do you know these {theses}? This is a -- they are lines drawn from Neanderthal man, you see, to superman and { }. We are superman, of course, and specially the author of the map is. Well, a mental picture. Gentlemen, the history of mankind can only be tald -- told in the words of the Cross, and in the Ten Commandments, and the Declaration of Independence, and in words that people have spoken under stress and strain in great duress, you see. These are the confessions of mankind, or of St. Augustine, or of the New Testament, or of the fa- -- founders of this country. Or in literature. What we say, although we have to be hanged for this, and burned: that's the history of mankind, and not mental pictures. A man who cannot brush aside his environment, his mental pictures that surround him, impress him, "You must keep up with the Joneses," well, he's not -- has -- not yet alive. He's just a tin-canned -- preserve.

And most what I hear people say is -- is just tin-can stuff, because it is only treated as visible. You can put it, so to speak, on the table. But can you hear it? Can you tremble? Does it come out of the depths against your mental pictures? Gentlemen, you can be sure--and ladies, of course--you can be sure: if I hear most people speak, they speak here and -- here, at -- at the top of their lungs, that's true, but also only in here, with their lips. I mean, if I hear two ladies in a -- talk in a store, and so, in a cafeteria, I mean, you don't have to listen. It's just in the intonation, you know. I mean, in that it is utterly unimportant. They just keep going. They talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. All right. And I suppose in your bull sessions, it's the same.

When do we have to listen, you see? When a man says something which he didn't know he had to say -- to say. That's the important moment. Then something new which -- had -- and for this, he has to brush aside his prejudices. He has to brush aside his ideologies. Here, he is forced to say something. Yesterday, he still thought he would never say it, or he wouldn't even think it, you see. And he's suddenly convinced he has to say it. Like a -- you ask a witness on the witness stand, he has to say the most -- confess to the most disagreeable truth, which he hid for himself. But here, he's put on the spot: Did you write this check? And {he says}, "Yes, I did."

Well, this is a very small example. Legality is not the issue. The issue is that of course the stream of events, gentlemen, of life is only made by those declarations of love and declarations of war that come unexpectedly. If you know all the time what you are going to say to your girl a year from now when you declare your love, you'd better stop. This must well up at this moment with an unexpected amount of courage, you see, and desperation. And nobody should marry who can help it. This is not a frivol- -- act of the will.

Now, this is all prac- -- practical, you see, because the human mind consists of will, thought, and feeling. Now all these are absolutely fickle, changed. In every situation, you will something different, we think something different, and we feel something different. You feel cold, and you feel warm, and you feel good, and you feel bad, you feel pessimistic, and you feel optimistic, I mean, and --. Ten times a day you can be up and down, and laid low. Can -- by this, you cannot live. We live by -- forces as peoples in which this tripartition, which you love seriously, and which is the -- the terrible heritage of antiquity, of Plato, you see, that our mind and your mind should consist of thought, will, and feeling -- this has, for the last 1900 years, been shown to be embedded in the larger flow of the declarations where we are held together, you see, with the past by hope, with the future by faith, and with the present by love.

Now these are conc- --if you would do me the favor to use this very strange word just to shake you into historical consciousness--these three powers are concatenations. I don't know a better word, I -- probably is -- there is. But I want to use a word that is not used in philosophy, not used in theology, and not used in sociology. And that's difficult to find. I call it a "concatenation," because it means that we can only hope that which already has {date}, because you cannot have indefinite hopes. All hopes are Greek, humanistic, and that's our earthly share. Most people in this country do not know this.

I went to the Futurama in New York in 1939, and I saw everything bigger and better, you see, which already existed. And I thought, "What a terrible vision of the future." Everything just from the past is hoped for. And -- now this country, as you know, has as its religion, hope. And it has not a bit of faith, especially the women have not. They have hopes. And hope is always filled with contents that already have existed, because we can only hope--that is, be sure that something is good--if it has already proved its goodness.

Now you don't know this. And one of the -- my accusations, will -- as you will see, against the pulpit of the 19th century in this country is that when these movements developed, the ministers fell in with them and simply invoked vast hopes. But {didn't} balance it at all by faith. Faith is of course the certainty that the unknown, the unhoped-for is better for us than that what we hoped for. That if you miss an examination, it may be your making. But of course, you hope for passing it. So we'll -- always hope for the best, but we always have to find out later, you see, that when things didn't go our way, it obviously was very often much wiser. And we have to thank God that He did not reward our stupidity with -- with filling out idiotic { }. But the will of man, of course, can only see that my will must be done.

Now we live however for 1900 years in a civilization that allegedly prays:

"Not my will be done, but Thine will." That's the only criterion which shows that we are not pagans. Gentlemen, you are immediately a pagan when you pray, "My will be done." That's the whole distinction between all acts of faith and all what we call "paganism." And of course in this country, 90 percent of the people are pagans, because they do think that their will should make law. And that everything that doesn't fulfill their will is a mistake.

Well, gentlemen, the -- however in your -- in your sober senses, I think you know better. And you know very well that our will doesn't deserve to be fulfilled. It's too short-lived. It's too -- too blind. It isn't -- it isn't so important that our will be done. Sometimes it is done, and sometimes it isn't done. And both ways, it's ob- -- absolutely right what is done. And -- well, if our will wouldn't be sifted and 20 percent, or 40 percent, or 60 percent of idiotic wills would not be left unfulfilled, certainly the world would come to an end right away.

Everybody knows this. But in our classrooms, and even on the pulpit, these things on which every one of you has lived as long as he lives, that he cannot live by his hopes alone, but that he has to address his relation to the future by saying, "Well, not all my silly hopes fortunately have been fulfilled," you see. "I lived on the faith that it might reveal itself later, what I really was meant to become, or to do, or whom to marry, or what-not." Everybody knows this. Yet unfortunately, these very sober concatenations of the human being with the past and the future, and with the present people with whom he has to make up by affection and neighborly love, you see, have been condemned to be vir- -- called virtues, and to be called something religious. But gentlemen, they are the sober truth of everyday living. They have nothing do with -- with -- with the pulpit or with the denomination. You haven't to become a Mormon to know something of love, faith, and hope. I mean, this is the -- the -- the -- the daily bread of a man in a factory, in a hospital, on the street.

The -- the other day -- no, it's year -- years ago, I -- we were left without gas on a mountain in British Columbia. And there came a car, and these people puls- -- pulled us, pushed us up and down for 135 miles. One hundred thirty-five miles, because there were no fill-up stations. Absolutely none. It was in rugged country, And they -- she missed -- she wanted to get her husband from the train, they had a chauffeur. And they missed the train. And her husband had probably to wait, and cursed her. And -- and we were pushed. And you all rely on such miracles, all the time, on neighborly love. And we couldn't live one minute without this.

This is a very dry and -- cut-and-dried fact. But you allow -- love to take place in the pulpit on Sundays at 11 o'clock. This is -- it -- isn't this psy- -- an event in psychological experience empirical without any ideology, for that mat-

ter? It's just as empirical as if you have to breathe oxygen, and that you choke if you don't. The same is true of hope. All the pictures of the past, which we would like to perpetuate, that lights are burning in the streets, you see, when we go out, and that it isn't {dark}, that's -- we hope for this, that there is government, and that there is peace, that we aren't murdered when we leave town, and so on. Well, everybody is full of hopes, and everybody has faith. And if he doesn't, he -- he is a candidate for suicide. And that's why this country is the greatest country for suicide, because faith has officially been preached out of the city and out of the country as unnecessary.

And when I came to this country, a very famous man, Richard Cabot, in -- in Harvard said to me, "You will find that you come to very good people. They have love, and they have hope. But they have no faith."

Faith and hope are so today confused that you think hope has to do with future. But hope is our anchor in the past, because we know that things have been quite good. So we -- somebody made a million, so you hope that you will make 10 millions, you see. But you must have faith to understand that if you make no million, this is better, that your will is not {good enough}.

So, I only want to invite you, gentlemen, to show you that this strange century, 19th century, which had only public movements, and only -- adored the public mind, and -- divided us up into beings with their will, their feelings, you see, all emanating from ourselves, and being contained within ourselves, do not mention the concatenation. You understand what this now means, you see: our being chained constantly into an inheritage -- an inheritance from past generations for which we hope, which we continue. Like the English language, like writing, like the telephone, like all the things you simply go on using, and hope that they'll always exist. That's concatenation from hope. Then you do think that your sins will not be visited on your grandchildren, and you therefore have faith, that in some way all your nonsense, all your s- -- follies will not be visited. And that whatever it takes to wipe them out of -- from the slate, that you will have to accept the penalty. And that's why I read to you the Second Inaugural of Lincoln, because that's a speech of deep faith, because it accepts the penalty, and the punishment, you see, and the toil, and the tears, and the sweat, just as Winston Churchill said. "I have nothing to offer you but--" you remember what he said?

(Sweat and tears.)


(Blood, sweat, and tears.)

Now, no president of the United States except Abraham Lincoln has--and John Adams; he, too--have -- have ever dared to offer the American people rain instead of sunshine. But of course, a great president would have to say that -- it will be a rainy day, and not e- -- eternal sunshine. Now in Southern California, of course, that's difficult to say.

But mind you: you can't have a government unless this government is allowed to tell you that the times ahead of us are harder than the times of yesterday. And since we are in this strange position, democracy is threatened, because you have then to cheat the people. You have to -- to -- you get athletics; you get sports; you get panis and circensis; you get the dole. You have to entertain them then with the semblance of beauty, pleasure, happiness. But who can in the -- in the course of events in a family prevent something terrible to happen? You have to live through it. Who can tell a nation always that -- tomorrow will be better than yesterday? But this is a -- you demand from your government. Because you are just a public and not people. The people grow under hardship, and un- -- no other way. And they disintegrate if you -- as soon as the big lie is passed around that things are going to be better all the time. They are not going to be better all the time. This I can assure you. You can volunteer to -- sharing the wealth of this nation with the rest of the world, or it will be taken away from us. There are only these two situations.

And now we come through the -- the situation of a -- I c- -- heard -- spoke of Garrison. And I wanted to tell you that the solution of the problem of the Negro in the South of course is of -- of qualification. That is, as soon as you have Negro bank presidents, and Negro princes, and -- and a tremendous, enviable quality in the position of the Negro, the whole problem of the Negro folds up, I mean, falls to pieces. You cannot the same -- at the same moment emancipate all men. This is only a mental idea. But it is never idea of people who live in the concatenation of hope, love, and faith, because these three forces -- are our sense of timing. The mixture between love, faith, and hope in any family decides when you say something, you see. When you have to begin to give up hope, then you have to have faith that you confront your child with a decision. As long as you can hope that he will go on, you see, and do right, you are silent. You just look at it.

And so the sense of timing is the problem of course in the Abolition problem, as it is in all others. And in -- this sense of timing was lost in the process. And so we are, if you read the -- I read the -- the signs of the times right, segregation, you see, has advanced in the last 60 years to an improbable degree. There has been only one-tenth of the segregation of 60 years ago that exists today in the South. And that must make you think and ponder. It is a very strange development that the apartheid in the South today is much stronger than it was when

William Garrison, you see, began his campaigns.