The New Orleans Democrat. (New Orleans, La.) 1875-1876, 1876-01-16
lFrom tho n. Y. Tribune.l

ETCHING or GoYA--rHE ATHEIST CLUB
THE HYPOCRISY OF FREE-THINK1NG.
from the N. Y. Tribunel
PARIS, Nov. I've we're dining yes
terday at Victor Hugo's. Four OF US
were believers and four atheists--not
speaking OF the ladies, who were all too
clever to be infidels. Victor Hugo, OF
course, was among the believers.
"To believe in God is to believe moth
ing" said one Of the atheists.
ITO believe in God is to believe
everything" cried Victor Hugo; "it Is to
believe In the infinite, and In ones inn
mortal soul / will prove it to you"
His face was bright with q heavenly
halo. You know he was born with the
century. His face Is crowned with white
hair, but IL Is the volcano under the
snow. His eyes shine like burning
GOALS his brow Is arched like an Olym-
plans the nose IL refined, with distend.
ed nostrils; the mouth is eager and
smiling, still full of valiant teeth: the
chin finishes a profile designed after
the laws Or artistic grammar. 1t Is a
well made head on u robust body BY
robust do not mean enormous. He has
not the stature OF q giant nor the torso
of q Hercules. But he Is q man Of steel
with no sign OF old age about him. He
has all the agility, supplencss. the ease
and grace OF his best years. He Is now
enjoying his third or fourth youth l dc
not doubt he will see the century
through.
81 feel in myself" he continued, "the
future life. 1 am like u forrest which
has been more than once cut down.
The new shoots are stronger and livelieI
than ever. | am rising, know, toward
the sky. The sunshine is on my head.
The earth gives me it's generous sap,
but heaven lights me with the reflection
of unknown worlds. You say the soul
Is nothing but the resultant Of bodily
powers. Why then Is my soul more
luminous when my bodily powers begin
to fall? Winter Is on my head and eter.
nal spring In my heart. There breathe
at this hour the fragrance OF the lilacs,
the violets and the roses, rs at twenty
years. The nearer approach the end,
the palmer / hear around me the i'm
mortal symphonies OF the worlds which
invite me. It is marvellous yet simple.
It is fairy tale and 1t Is history. Fol
half century have been writing my
thoughts In prose and verse; history
philosophy, drama, romance, tradition,
satire, ode, and song,-I have tried all.
But feel / have not said the thou
sandth part OF what Is in me. When
go down to the grave / can say liketso
many others, I have finished my day 9
work, but cannot say, I have finished
my life. MY days work will begin again
the next morning. The tomb Is not q
blind alley; it is q thOroughfare. 1t
closes on the twilight to. open with the
dawn. improve every hour because
| love this world as my fatherland, and
because the truth compels me as 1t com.
PEELED Voltaire, that human divinity
My work Is only q beginning. MY
tions. / would be glad to see 1t mount.
ing and mounting forever. The thirst
| for the infinite proves infinlty. What
do YOU say OF that, Messieurs Atheists?'
IT say you are wonderful man."
"I am not wonderful man. obey
my soul. My soul has Its destiny anc
obeys unknown laws"
:" It obeys the laws Of creation" said
the atheist. If you should suddenly
have headache, night woald come
over your soul, and you woulk feel thai
it was the creature OF your bItln. Here
for instance, is the coffee. TAke some
as / do, in this pretty Japanese, cup
and yodf 1i 9ee w and for n hour
will be a greater poet than ever.
Don't talk such nonsense, my witt!
friend. / never drink coffee nor cham
payne. Why do not those who TAKE
these stimulants write either my verse
or my prose?'
sit is because nature has not so vel
fashioned their brains"
/ "There / have you," said Victo
Hugo. "What Is nature?"
at is an occult force" said the athe
list.
"There Is no occult forces; there ar
only luminous forces. Occult forces il
chaos, the luminous force is God. MAI
is an Infinitely little copy OF God; thi
Is glory enough for man. I am man
an invisible atom, drop in the ocean
a grain Of sand on the shore. Little o
/ I am, I feel the God in me, because
can always bring form out OF my chaos
I make books which are creations.
can say this without Boosting, for hay
no more pride than coral insect in hi
reef; no more than the smallest bir,
which Joins in the universal hymn.
am nothing. Here lies Victor Hugo
an atom, passing echo, q flying cloud
a wave which laps the shore I an
nothing, but let me live all my futur
lives; let me continue my work begun
] let me scale in coming ages all tn
nights, all the perils, all the loves, al
the agonies. Who will say that one day
after thousands Of ascents, ! shall not