Our collection of articles, records and reviews about Robert Ingersoll and Thomas Paine.
This man had gratified no ambition at the expense of his fellow-men; he had desolated no country with the flame and sword of war; he had not wrung millions from the poor and unfortunate; he had betrayed no trust, and yet he was almost universally despised.
The Legislature of the State of New York has invited Col. Robert G. Ingersoll to deliver an address on Roscoe Conkling’s public and private character.
“To argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of reason, is like administering medicine to the dead.” — THOMAS PAINE. PEORIA, October 8, 1877. To the Editor of the N.Y. Observer: SIR: Last June in San Francisco, I offered a thousand dollars in gold — not as a wager, but as
Col. Ingersoll’s glowing tribute to the memory of Thomas Paine will be differently viewed by its readers according to their religious biases.
This Chicago Daily Tribune article is a report of a lecture by Robert G. Ingersoll in Chicago commemorating Paine’s birthday on January 30, 1880.
1880 Robert G. Ingersoll Lecture Commemorating Paine’s Birthday Read Post »
Col. Robert G. Ingersoll delivered another lecture last night in Chickering Hall, his subject being Thomas Paine, his life and his work.
Thomas Paine Glorified: Col. Ingersoll’s Second Lecture Read Post »
Col. Ingersoll’s Reply To The New York Observer—That Paper Now Admits That Paine Did Not Recant Or Die Full Of Remorse—The Story About His Father’s Severity Denied.
PEORIA, Nov. 2nd, 1877. To the Editor of the New York Observer: You ought to have honesty enough to admit that you did, in your paper of July 19th, offer to prove that the absurd story that Thomas Paine died in terror and agony on account of the religious opinions he had expressed, was true.
Mr. Robert G. Ingersoll has published, in a letter to the editor of The New-York Observer, a statement of the evidence which, in his opinion, shows that Thomas Paine did not die a drunken pauper in agony and fear.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: Through all the centuries gone, the mind of man has been beleaguered by the mailed hosts of superstition. Slowly and painfully has advanced the army of deliverance. Hated by those they wished to rescue, despised by those they were dying to save, these grand soldiers, the immortal deliverers, have fought without thanks,
At the age of seventy-three, death touched his tired heart. He died in the land his genius defended — under the flag he gave to the skies. Slander cannot touch him now — hatred cannot reach him more.
