My Tribute to Robert “Royal Bob” Ingersoll
When we moved into our new home, I had fun decorating my home office. I picked up some funny posters portraying Monty Python movies, Alfred E Newman for President, and Barney Fife as the Bloodhound of the Law. But above all the jokes and lighthearted touches, one of the most meaningful things on my walls is a portrait of Robert Ingersoll.
I put Ingersoll’s portrait right above my desk out of deep respect, so I can feel inspired every time I sit down to write. Why? It’s simple. Ingersoll inspires me because he was a freethinker and a great speaker during the Age of Freethought (1875 to 1914). He spoke his mind, even though it cost him the chance to become a famous politician. Robert wasn’t afraid to challenge the powerful religious, political, and social forces of his time, even when it brought him criticism. I believe such a remarkable man, who historians and modern thinkers often overlook, deserves to have his wisdom remembered and shared again.
If I could travel back in time and meet the legendary “Royal Bob” Ingersoll, I’d invite him to a gathering of fellow freethinkers. I’d quiet the room, raise my glass, and offer him these words of praise:
I stand here today full of awe and respect for you, my man, Robert Ingersoll. Though you grew up in a family with strict religious beliefs—your father was a traveling Presbyterian minister—you rose above those limits. You became the most famous freethinker of your era.
After living out your abolitionist beliefs by serving as a colonel in the Northern army, you saw that the country was changing after the Civil War. You recognized the growing optimism of your time, as science and new social ideas began to challenge strict religious beliefs that held people back. You were ahead of your time when you boldly said that secular humanist ideas wouldn’t destroy morals, but would instead bring truth and positive change for everyone. For that, I raise my glass to you!
Robert, you advocated for so many social issues, even though they weren’t popular at the time. You stood up for women’s rights. You promoted proper, respectful behavior toward children in an era when “spare the rod, spoil the child” was the standard teaching of the day. You fought for the rights of people of color, especially African Americans, when most people in our country did not. You spoke on behalf of workers in an age when labor laws were nonexistent, and workplace abuse was the norm. You were a champion of secular education when anti-science sentiment prevailed, and religious creeds were still the standards of truth. You were clearly ahead of your time.
I’m also impressed that you were one of the few who defended Thomas Paine. Many politicians and citizens called Paine a great patriot for writing books and pamphlets that inspired people to stand up to the English king and fight for their rights. But after the Revolutionary War, when Paine published The Age of Reason in 1794 and shared his religious views, everything changed. In his book, he challenged the core beliefs of Christianity, and the same people who once praised him turned on him, mocking and rejecting him until he died alone.
Sadly, only a few people had the decency to attend Paine’s funeral. Even years later, President Roosevelt called him “a filthy little atheist.” But Robert, you stood by Thomas Paine. You saw him as a man of reason and principle, and your tribute to him was sincere. You reminded us that Paine was a giant when we needed one—a beacon of hope and strength. He wasn’t afraid to share his beliefs about God and Christ, even if they went against the mainstream. Good for you, Robert. Good for you.
Robert, you never held back when it came to challenging the harsh Calvinist beliefs of your time. You spoke out strongly against those who spread these ideas. Yet, you were kind and patient with people who were uneducated and easily influenced by preachers who described God as angry and vengeful. After taking on the most powerful religious beliefs of your day, you faced backlash from the clergy. Even the media spread lies about you, but you handled it all with grace and humor.
You spoke with passion and clarity, but always kept things entertaining and funny. Most people who came to your speeches were religious, yet they left smiling. I’m sure many kept their faith, but you made them think more deeply and encouraged tolerance for those who chose a different path. Through your words and actions, you showed that people who don’t follow religious creeds can still live with strong morals and ethics.
You could have reached the highest levels of politics, but you chose to speak openly about your lack of faith in God. Many believed you could have been president if you had stayed quiet about your beliefs, but you didn’t take the easy way out. You had the integrity to say what you truly believed, even though it cost you. I admire that about you.
You lived an honest and moral life, which frustrated those who hoped you would slip up so they could use it against you and others who weren’t religious. Instead, you were a loving and faithful husband, a caring father who treated your daughters with respect, a man of honesty and strong character, and someone who helped those less fortunate.
You strongly believed in the separation of church and state, convinced that our country was founded on secular humanist ideas and that God was left out of the Constitution on purpose. You even argued that churches should pay property taxes to keep religion separate from government. Many people fought hard against your views because they threatened the power of the religious leaders of your time, but you never backed down.
You valued free thought and science-based reasoning long before these ideas became popular. You supported Darwin’s teachings when they were starting to reach the American public, even though many religious people saw evolution as dangerous. Instead, you believed that science could help move society from rigid beliefs to a research-based approach for solving big problems.
You also supported scientific advances like Joseph Lister’s antiseptic surgery, which greatly reduced deaths from infections, and Thomas Edison’s inventions, which improved lives worldwide. Your support for science-based thinking brought criticism from many in the religious community, who thought science went against God. But you stood firm and accepted whatever came your way.
You were a powerful speaker, the most famous of your time, drawing huge crowds across the country. Politicians wanted you to speak for them because you could persuade people to vote. But your audiences included everyone—rich and poor, educated and not, young and old, believers and non-believers. You filled arenas and fields with people eager to hear you, laugh, feel inspired, and be challenged to think more deeply. I wish I could have seen you speak in person.
You were admired by a multitude of great people of your time, and many who were to come after you exited this earth. You made a profound impact on people like Clara Barton of American Red Cross fame, the famous Scopes Monkey Trial lawyer Clarence Darrow, the Socialist and trade union proponent Eugene Debs, the formerly enslaved person and abolitionist Frederick Douglass, the industrialist and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, the birth control activist Margaret Sanger, the women’s rights movement activist Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Mark Twain the author, Walt Whitman the American Poet, W. C. Fields the famous actor, and the world renown inventor Thomas Edison to name just a few. You were friends of presidents, numerous politicians, artists, poets, and actors. You were also friends of farmers, mechanics, and those who earned a living with bodily sweat and toil.
I also admire that you enjoyed good food, music, drinks, and a fine cigar. I especially like your saying, “A day without a bath is wasted, a dead day,” since I do most of my reading in the bathtub. You often hosted gatherings at your home, earning you the nickname “Royal Bob.” These events were the envy of many, as people wanted to meet the best actors, poets, and musicians, connect with influential people, and enjoy time with you and your family.
Sadly, history hasn’t treated you well, my friend. By the end of the Golden Age of Freethought, around World War I, your fame faded away. Even today, as freethought returns and neo-atheists like Dawkins, Harris, Hitchens, and Dennett gain attention, most people don’t know about you or your contributions. That’s a real loss, because your life, words, activism, and outlook are refreshing for anyone who takes the time to learn about the “Great Agnostic.”
Robert Ingersoll, or “Royal Bob,” I raise my glass to you—a man who brought clarity and wisdom to your generation and laid the groundwork for future freethinkers. Even though it’s been over a century since you walked this earth, I’ll keep reading your words, enjoying your humor, and encouraging others to learn from your life. If there’s any chance of meeting you after this life, I hope I get to sit down and enjoy your company. Until then, if I achieve even a small fraction of what you did, I’ll consider my life a success.