Year: 1860

OI IneOuOfe Parker.


Charles Sumner, in his introduction to o
Fraternity course of lectures in Boston, the
other evening, paid .his graceful tribute of
respect to the memory of Theodore Parker:


In opening this course of lectures, devoted
to human improvement can not forget that
noble spirit, especially dear to many of you as a
pastor, whom we had hoped to welcome at this
time in restored health, instead of mourning
dead in a distant land. | knew him welt.
and never came within his influence without
confessing his many-sded powers, his mar
velous requirements, his rare eloquence, his
soul touched to so many generous sympa-
thies, and his heart beating warm for his fell
low man. To the cause of human improve
ment in every form his life was given, For
this he labored; for this he died.


1t was my fortune to see him during sew
eral days in Paris, some time after he had
parted from you. He had recently arrived
from the West Indies. feel that | can not
err in offering slight reminiscence of that
meeting. | found him the same in purpose
and aspiration as | had always known him
earnest, thoughtful, and intent on all that
helped the good of man, with the same COM
pleteness of intelligence, and the same large,
loving heart, We visited together ancient
by-ways and historic scenes of that wonder
full metropolis, which no person was more
forward to appreciate and to enjoy; but,
turning from these fascinating objects, his
conversation took the wings of the morning,
and, traversing the Atlantic, rested on our
own country, on friends at home, on his re-
lations to his parishioners, on his unfinished
labors, and on that great cause of Liberty,
which contains all other causes, as the great
est contains the less; for where liberty IS not,
what is man, whether slave or master?


Observing him carefully, with the fellow
feeling of q convalescent, | was glad and
surprised to find in him so many signs oi
health. AT the time he was stronger than ]
was; but he has been taken and have been
spared. Indeed, it was only in the husky
whisper OF his voice that he seemed weak
envied him much his active step and his
power to walk. But he had measured his
forces, and he calmly revealed to me his
doubt whether he should live to see home
again. If this were permitted, he did not
expect to resume his old activities, but
thought that in some quiet retreat away
from paved streets, surrounded by his books,
he might perhaps have strength to continue
some of his labors, to bind up some of his
sheaves, and occasionally to speak with his
pen. But it was ordered otherwise. Not
even this moderate anticipation was graf
flied. The fatal disease had fastened toe
surely upon him, and was slowly mastering
all resistance. '..--.


The devotion of friends, travel change Of
scene, the charms of Switzerland, the classic
breath Of Italy; all were in vain. 1t was his
wish he Should be buried where he fell, and
that this child of New England, the we'll
ripened product of her peculiar life, now
sleeps in Tuscan earth, on the banks of the
Arno, near the sepulchers of Michael Angelo
and Calico. But l know not if even this
historic association can make us content tc
renounce the pious privilege of laying him in
one OF our own tombs, among the people that
he loved so well.


Pardon me for thus renewing your grief
But | felt that could not address you on


en@s With Tours and oup n1a Seaps %geq gSS
in sympathy for our great bereavement.