New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1874-04-12
Theodore Parker,s Death,

! From Frothinghams Life of Parler.l
Miss Francis Power Cobbe-one OF tins
truest of his spiritual friends, in whose
books he had interested himself when in
| Boston, with whom he had corresponded
| whom lie had hoped to see in London, but
| had never met-was in Florence, and impa
tent to see him. Collecting himself by d
! great effort, this sick man received her ten
| Derby at his bedside. at is strange that we
should meet thus at last. But you do not
| see me only the memory of me. They who
| wish me well wish me - speedy departure
| to the other world. Of course | am not
afraid to die; but there is so much to do. y
"But you have done much. You have given
your life to God to His truth and His
work, as truly as any martyr of them all y
II don't KNOW was the reply. IL had
great powers committed to me; have but
half used them" She gave him flowers
tea roses, some lilies of the valley. The
gentle touch of nature woke the soul Of
nature in him. a heavenly smile suf-
fused his face, which made his
have thought him bomely His spirit
reused, he talked with animation of the
flowers of America, then Of literature-the
literature OF Italy. The veil was lifted, and
Miss Cobbe had a glimpse of the man as he
was in his prime. "Do not speak of YOUR
feeling for me,' he said; sit makes me too
unhappy to leave you" He wanted to see
her every day. but could not; the pleasure
was too exciting. When he did, the CLEANS
of light came at intervals across dreamy
waste of time. The lilies caused a glad
ness that soon faded. "What day Is it ~
Sunday, blessed day" at is q blessed
day when one has got over the superstition
Of it," l want to tell you somcthing.v he
said earnestly at one of these interviews:
There are two Theodore Parkers now; one
is dying here in Italy; the other | have
planted in America He will live there and
finish my work Weeks before this there
were moments, moments in almost every
Gay, when the shattered mental system, re-
sponded TO no supreme effort at control
The handspring of the mechanism was fatal
ly weakened, the golden bowl was broken:
the silver cord was loosed. Once, in
Rome, his wife having left the room, he
put a paper into friends hand 1t con.
tanned directions tor his funeral in the Mu.
sic Hall. Rome and Boston were mingled
confusedly in his mind. 1T is all one, She
said. phillips and Clarke will come for
my sake Notions of time and space were
blurred; but the noble heart was true To tia
instincts. If his mind wandered it ia in
heavenly fields. He would save bis vita
from the bitterness of his thought. He
did his friends the justice to think their
love as all-victorious as his own. At last
the curtain Tell; gradual weakness, with. |
out PAIN or distress, pressed down the pros |
trate frame. Mental action ceased: a soft
mist crept over the faculties; physical sensi- |
bllity became less and less. On the tenth |
Of May he fell asleep, so softly that the |
most ANXIOUS watchers knew not that the |
last breath had been drawn. The slumber
Df little child was in his case more than |
metaphor. The great soul had gone, and
as of infancy rested on the de-
'erted face.