With a foreword by Jon G. Murray, former president of American Atheists Inc., the book is an eloquent summary of the lives of the "Great Infidels" of western history. Written by the "Great Infidel" orator of the 19th century Robert G. Ingersoll, the book discusses the origin of God and Heaven, the Devil and Hell, sacred books, the "appeal to the cemetery" as an argumentational ploy, and the role of fear in religion. It epitomizes the lives of Julian, Bruno, Voltaire, Diderot, Hume, Spinoza, Thomas Paine, and others.
"On August 11, 1833, was born the greatest and noblest of the Western World; an immense personality, -- unique, lovable, sublime; the peerless orator of all time, and as true a poet as Nature ever held in tender clasp upon her loving breast, and, in words coined for the chosen few, told of the joys and sorrows, hopes, dreams, and fears of universal life; a patriot whose golden words and deathless deeds were worthy of the Great Republic; a philanthropist, real and genuine; a philosopher whose central theme was human love, -- who placed 'the holy hearth of home' higher than the altar of any god; an iconoclast, a builder -- a reformer, perfectly poised, absolutely honest, and as fearless as truth itself -- the most aggressive and formidable foe of superstition -- the most valiant champion of reason -- Robert G. Ingersoll." - Herman E. Kittredge
Robert Green Ingersoll, who became the best known advocate of freethought in the 19th-century, was born in Dresden, N.Y. The son of an impoverished itinerant pastor, he later recalled his formative church experiences: "The minister asked us if we knew that we all deserved to go to hell, and we all answered 'yes.' Then we were asked if we would be willing to go to hell if it was God's will, and every little liar shouted 'Yes!'" He became an attorney by apprenticeship, and a colonel in the Civil War, fighting in the Battle of Shiloh. In 1867, Ingersoll was appointed Illinois' first Attorney General. His political career was cut short by his refusal to halt his controversial lectures, but he achieved national political fame for his thrilling nomination speech for James G. Blaine for president at the national convention of the Republican Party in 1876. Ingersoll was good friends with three U.S. presidents. The distinguished attorney was known and admired by most of the leading progressives and thinkers of his day.
Ingersoll traveled the continent for 30 years, speaking to capacity audiences, once attracting 50,000 people to a lecture in Chicago—40,000 too many for the Exposition Center. His repertoire included 3 to 4-hour lectures on Shakespeare, Voltaire and Burns, but the largest crowds turned out to hear him denounce the bible and religion. He initially settled in Peoria, Illinois, then in Washington, D.C., where he successfully defended falsely accused men in the "Star Route" scandal, the most famous political trial of the 19th century. Religious rumors against Ingersoll abounded. One had it that Ingersoll's son was a drunkard who more than once had to be carried away from the table. Ingersoll wrote: "It is not true that intoxicating beverages are served at my table. It is not true that my son ever was drunk. It is not true that he had to be carried away from the table. Besides, I have no son!"
During the Civil War he was commissioned as Colonel and commander of the 11th Illinois Volunteer Cavalry, and was captured near Corinth, Mississippi. Although soon released, he still made time to treat his Confederate captors to a rousing anti slavery speech.
He hoped for but was never awarded a Cabinet post. The Republicans were afraid of his unorthodox religious views. He was told that he could progress politically if he hid his religious views, but Ingersoll refused on the charge that withholding information from the public would be immoral.
He strongly advocated equal rights for blacks and women. He defended Susan B. Anthony from hecklers when she spoke in Peoria; when every hotel in the city refused to house Frederick Douglass, he welcomed him into his home.
I read all of Ingersoll's writing and speeches over the course of a few days, so I can't really remember the books apart: I will treat them all as one big entity.
Ingersoll was a magnificent man ahead of his time. Not really because he had the intellectual horsepower to successfully evaluate the truth value of religious claims - since, let's admit it, an intelligent child has enough brain cells to do that -, but because he had the intellectual courage not only to make these evaluations, but also to try to convince people and publicly argue against their bullshit. For that he deserves our adoration.
His thoughts are rather lucid, his arguments are well structured. If you are a theist, and are looking for basic arguments that criticize your beliefs, Ingersoll is a good read. If you are a junior member of the atheist club or are interested in the history of nonbelief, you'll find these things interesting. But even if you are an eye-patched, scarface veteran of the Atheist-Theist Wars, you'll find Ingersoll entertaining, so grab one of his books, listen to one of his speeches, and enjoy.
This lecture from 1881 has been reconstructed from Ingersoll's notes found after his death. The subject is the difference between the historical contributions of the infidels and those of the church. Ingersoll argues that the infidels provided infinitely more to the benefit of humanity than any church or priest ever did. Ingersoll's secondary argument is that the priests are so desperate to cover over the faults of their creeds that they lie about the deaths of their most effective critics, fabricating deathbed horror scenes and repentances that never happened. The first half of the lecture lays down the groundwork. Here, Ingersoll argues that religion, especially the christian religion, is based upon fear and propagates by spreading fear. He argues that priests are really mostly after getting and retaining power, using the lowest means to do so. He further argues that the claim that belief confers virtue is demonstrably false in fact. Plus, he argues that the teachings of religious books are primarily ancient superstition and that theology is nothing more than poor argumentation to prop up these superstitions.
The second half of the book is a set of brief biographical sketches of "great infidels" - Julian, Bruno, Voltaire, Diderot, Hume, Spinoza, and Paine, with some brief remarks about Jefferson and Franklin. Ingersoll argues that while these men had the ordinary vices that men are prone to, they had great spirits, and bravely fought for the recognition of truth against all the social forces of superstition ranged against them. Ingersoll also makes specific remarks about how each man died, which is peaceably at home, and not tormented by devils, guilt, or anything else that their religious critics falsely claimed about their deaths.
The style of the book is typical for lectures of the time. Everything is discussed in broad terms and general assertions. Ingersoll is in no mood to pick a fight with any particular claim of theology. He simply dismisses most of the major of claims of christianity as obviously contrary to reason or fact or both. The language is typically elevated, using the high-minded rhetoric of the 19th century to describe his subject and relate his arguments. The overall structure is from classical Roman rhetoric - state the case, demonstrate that there are reasons to suppose the case to be true, provide multiple and varied examples supporting the case, and conclude that the case is proved. Along the way, he makes a few historical and biographical errors, none of any consequence to his argument and most based on incomplete information at the time that has since been discovered.
Anyone looking for subtle and intricate demolition of religion will not find it here. Instead, the reader will find a kind of personal attack on religion as a whole, the argument being that religion is a liar, fraud, and con artist, and nothing more.
Ingersoll, a Civil War veteran, lawyer, and nationally known orator, became the most prominent voice of America’s late–19th‑century freethought movement. On the post–Civil War lecture circuit—the Lyceum and big-city theaters—he toured the country arguing for reason, liberty of conscience, and secular government. “The Great Infidels” emerged during this “Golden Age of Free Thought,” when he set out to reclaim the term “infidel” and celebrate those who challenged ecclesiastical authority.
The lecture was first presented in the early 1880s (sources place initial versions around 1881) and then delivered repeatedly in major urban venues—typical sites included large theaters such as the Brooklyn Academy of Music and other Lyceum halls—drawing packed audiences.
Ingersoll insists that the advance of human liberty and knowledge owes a debt to “infidels”—figures who defied church dogma and demanded evidence, tolerance, and free inquiry. He positions them not as enemies of morality but as the conscience of civilization.
He lionizes Enlightenment and skeptical thinkers such as Voltaire, Diderot, Hume, Spinoza, and especially Thomas Paine (whom he helped rehabilitate in American memory). He also invokes heretics and martyrs from earlier centuries to show that dissent has a long, costly lineage.
A signature move is his whirlwind tour of church councils to show, in his view, that doctrine was hammered out by politics and power rather than whispered by heaven. He begins with Constantine—who, he notes, elevated Christianity and in the same year as Nicaea (325) killed his wife Fausta and son Crispus—where bishops declared Christ consubstantial with the Father; then comes Constantinople (381) affirming the Spirit from the Father, Ephesus (431) naming Mary “Mother of God,” Chalcedon (451) defining two natures in Christ, Constantinople III (680) affirming two wills, and Lyons (1274) teaching that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. The punch line: absent these councils, he says, even the Trinity might not exist, which proves doctrine is historically decided, not divinely delivered.
Bottom line “The Great Infidels” is a stirring, provocative defense of intellectual dissent. As performance rhetoric, it’s first-rate—brave, funny, and capacious. As history, it’s a starting point rather than a final word. If you’re interested in American freethought, public oratory, or the cultural battles over religion in the Gilded Age, this lecture is essential—and still bracing today.