Named Entity Results, Theodore Parker

To Miss Augusta King. New York, September 19, 1843. A day or two after Parker left, A. and L. called to see me. I asked, What brings you to New York? I don't know, said Mr. A.; it seems a miracle that we are here. But whatever the miracle might be, I believe it restored no blind to sight. Mr. C. and J. H. went to hear a discussion between them and W. H. C. It was held in a very small room, the air was stifling, and both came home with a headache. I asked Mr. C. what they talked about? I don't know. But can't you tell anything they said? For some time he insisted that he could not, but being unmercifully urged, he at last said, L. divided man into three states; the disconscious, the conscious, and the unconscious. The disconscious is the state of a pig; the conscious is the baptism by water; and the unconscious is the baptism by fire. I laughed, and said, Well, how did the whole discussion affect your mind? Why, after I had heard them talk a few minutes, replied he, I'll

ions of faith, all this mocking and unreality vanishes; and in the highest sense all things keep the promises they make. Love, marriage, ambition, sorrow, nay even strong religious impressions, may and will fall short of the early promise they made, if we look at this life only. But they are all means, not ends. In that higher life we shall find that no deep feeling, no true experience, has slid over the surface of our being, and left no impression. What have you seen and heard of Theodore Parker since his return? A friend requested him to buy a few engravings in Italy, and I think he chose admirably. One of them was intended for me, and if my spirit had been with him (as perhaps it was) he could not have chosen to my more complete satisfaction. It is the Cumaean Sibyl, by Domenichino. She holds a scroll of music in her hand, and seems listening intently to the voices of the universe. It is the likeness of my soul in some of its moods. Oh, how I have listened! It is cur

er impelled any one in the wrong direction. In the simplest things I write, whether for children or grown people, I always try to sow some seeds for freedom, truth, and humanity. S. J. May writes to me very warmly about the big book. He says he has commended it from his pulpit, as the most valuable contribution to an enlarged, charitable, and true theology that has been made by any one in our country. Of course, you will not understand him as meaning to compare me with such minds as Theodore Parker; but he considers my book more valuable than those written by many abler pens, because it is not written in the spirit of an opponent to prevailing false theologies. You are right in supposing that while engaged on that work I felt like an inhabitant of the second and third centuries. Everything around me seemed foreign, as it did when I came out of Athens into Boston, after writing Philothea. That was a pleasant ramble into classic lands; but this Progress of Religious Ideas was

c soul, bravely takes his stand among the trumpeters. George W. Curtis, the brilliant writer, the eloquent lecturer, the elegant man of the world, lays the wealth of his talent on the altar of Freedom, and makes common cause with rough-shod reformers. The genius of Mrs. Stowe carried the outworks of your institution at one dash, and left the citadel open to besiegers, who are pouring in amain. In the church, on the ultra-liberal side, it is assailed by the powerful battering-ram of Theodore Parker's eloquence. On the extreme orthodox side is set a huge fire, kindled by the burning words of Dr. Cheever. Between them is Henry Ward Beecher, sending a shower of keen arrows into your intrenchments; and with him ride a troop of sharp-shooters from all sects. If you turn to the literature of England or France, you will find your institution treated with as little favor. The fact is, the whole civilized world proclaims slavery an outlaw, and the best intellect of the age is active i

To Miss Lucy Osgood. Wayland, 1859. Your package arrived on Saturday evening, but Theodore Parker had the start of you. He had sent me the sermon the Thursday before, accompanied by a brief little farewell note in pencil, which I shall treasure among my sacred relics; for my heart misgives me that I shall never look upon that Socratic head again. I read the sermon, forthwith, to Mr. Child, and a jewel of a sermon we both thought it. Though not a farewell discourse, it seems to have a farewell sadness about it. ... Newman's book on The Soul seemed to me a very admirable work. The Phases of Faith pleased me by the honesty of its confessions, and I read it with all the eagerness we all so naturally feel to arrive at the inmost spiritual secrets of another soul; but the conclusion left me very uncomfortable. It seemed, as the collegian said in his theme, to land me in the great ocean of eternity. I had travelled so far, and so confidently, with him, to arrive-nowhere! I cannot

not a jot; and sometimes I wish I had not. Sometimes I think the light from God's own throne is best transmitted through the transparent golden veil of poesy. But there stands my reason, a stubborn fact; and it will not accept any supernatural mediums between my soul and its Heavenly Father; whether the mediums be Virgin Mothers, or Divine Humanities. There is undoubtedly a sense in which the doctrine of Divine Humanity is true; for in its highest ideal all humanity is divine. But that sense would be very unsatisfactory to Mr.--. How I should like to know what your sister's active soul is now thinking of all these things! Perhaps she has introduced Theodore Parker to Dr. Hopkins; and perhaps Luther comes up behind them with the sound of iron shoes upon a stone pavement, as Swedenborg describes his walk in the spiritual world. It bears considerable resemblance to his walk in this world, I think. If Dr. Channing joins them, it will be in velvet slippers, on the softest carpet.

Miss Lucy Osgood. Wayland, 1864. I joyfully hailed the sight of your hand-writing; more joyfully even than usual; because I conjectured that you would write about the biography of Theodore Parker. It is an inspiring book, making one feel that there is nobleness in the battle of life when a true man girds on his armor for the fight. This record confirms my impression that Theodore Parker was the greatest man, morally and intellectually, that our country has ever produced. The manner in Theodore Parker was the greatest man, morally and intellectually, that our country has ever produced. The manner in which the book is made up is, I think, open to some criticism. In the first place, there is the general fault of containing too much. It seems to me that if one half, or at least one third, had been omitted, the remaining portion would have been more unqualifiedly interesting. In the second place, the arrangement is not orderly. In the third place, the sentences of Mr. Weiss sometimes need studying to discover his meaning. I have great respect and admiration for Mr. Weiss, but I do not lik

ago, was publicly flogged for having an abolition tract in his carpet-bag! Then to think of Maryland wheeling into the circle of free States, with ringing of bells and waving of banners! To think of the triumphal arch in the streets of Baltimore, whereon, with many honored historical names, were inscribed the names of Benjamin Banneker and R. R. Forten, two colored men! Glory to God! This is marvellous progress. Glory to God! Hallelujah! Miss Cobbe's introduction to the Life of Theodore Parker I like extremely. It is a truly manly production; thus we are obliged to compliment the superior sex when we seek to praise our own. I have also been reading her Broken lights. Her analysis of the present state of the churches is very clear and complete. Concerning her C Church of the future I am more doubtful. Sterne says, very truly, A philosophic religion is fit for philosphers only. Miss Cobbe, and minds that are kindred to hers, will be satisfied with the internal consciousne

on the ever-to-be-remembered 31st of January 1865.1 Such an outburst of the people's heart has never been seen in the Capitol since the nation was born. It was the sunrise of a new day for the republic. I was standing by John Jay, and as we shook hands over the glorious vote I could not but say, Are not our fathers and grandfathers here with us? They surely must be here to share our joy in thus gathering the fruit of which they planted the seed. Yes! and our blessed, great-hearted Theodore Parker was there, with a band of witnesses. Selah! 1 The day on which the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution, abolishing slavery in the United States, passed the House of Representatives, and (having previously passed the Senate) went to the Legislatures of the several States for ratification. Yesterday I walked up to see Mr. and Mrs. S., where I have not been for a year. He is full of the great Convocation of Unitarians at New York, to which he is sent as delegate. He seems to

teaching at stated seasons. I think all classes of minds would be benefited by it. What I complain of is that they do not really get teaching. The habits and wants of society have changed, and preaching has not sufficiently changed with them. Very little of the preaching is adapted to the wants of any class of minds. When people hear true living words spoken concerning the things they are doing and the thoughts they are thinking, they hear the words gladly. The magnetic power of Theodore Parker and Henry Ward Beecher, I think, is largely to be attributed to the fact that they meet the popular mind on its own plane instead of addressing it from a height. I do not want to see preaching abolished, but I do want to see its sphere enlarged. There must be some cause for the prevailing and ever-increasing feeling of its insufficiency. As for me, after struggling much with my disinclination to attend meeting, I have given up the contest. I have n't, for years, attended any anti-