Theodore Parker is one of the noblest men this age can boast. No sham ever yet could find a lodgment in his brain or heart. He abhors the false, and loves the true and manly. Not a particle of vulgar gentility, not a grain of aristocratic feeling was ever in him, or ever can get into him. He esteems a man just according to his moral and intellectual worth, for what he does, or aims to do. He loves men because they are men; not because they are white, or rich, or can trace their genealogy back five hundred years. An outrage upon the rights of a poor negro in the streets of Boston, stirs the blood as quickly in his heart, as if it had been committed upon the person of the governor of the commonwealth. A wrong

perpetrated upon a wretched drunkard's wife or child, awakes the thunder of his eloquence, when, if inflicted upon the strong or rich, he would have kept silent. It is this gigantic manhood in Theodore Parker which forces us to love and admire him. In spite of his infidelity, which so often startles and shocks us, we sit down involuntarily at his feet to listen to his great words, his courageous utterances against the most heartless and cruel oppression. We receive not one word of his infidelity. To us, Christ is not merely the greatest man that ever lived, but is vastly more; to us, the bible is not a book crammed with errors-the miracles exaggerations; and yet, to many of those who would crucify Mr.

Parker, we indignantly cry: "It is not for you to denounce this man; you who in your lives each day trample Jesus Christ and the bible under your feet; you who would refuse a cup of cold water to your 'Lord and Master,' ran there in his veins a drop of African blood!"

The manliness of Mr. Parker is apparent in his daily life. A shoemaker upon his bench, if heartnoble, is to him richer than Abbot Lawrence, with his acres of cotton-mills; a country farmer, in his fragrant clover fields, though of limited knowledge, if he be possessed of a generous heart and firm integrity, is in his eyes of greater worth than Daniel Webster, using his great intellect to perpetuate oppression.

No man will deny that Mr. Parker is one of the most remarkable men of our time, and that his influence is exceedingly powerful.

He is now between forty and fifty years old—we have forgotten his exact age-and is probably enjoying the most vigorous part of his existence. He was born in Lexington, where the first blood of the revolution was spilt, and it would seem as if the stories of that heroic time must have made a deep impression upon his mind and heart, for the Lexington spirit flashes from his eyes, and throbs in every pulse of his heart. His father was a farmer, and Theodore prepared himself for college as best he could. He

worked on the farm, taught school winters, but studied incessantly. One day he swung the scythe from sunrise to sunset upon his father's meadow, and the next entered Harvard College. While there, he improved his opportunities, made use of every moment, and graduated a finished scholar. This was not enough. He could not content himself with the knowledge possessed by an ordinary college graduate. The literature of Europe and the east was locked away from him, and so he sat down and mastered the French language, till it was as familiar to his tongue as "household words." He then studied German, and enjoyed the pleasure of reading the great German authors and poets in their own language. The Italian, the Spanish, the Persian, and indeed all still more difficult languages were made his own, until the civilized world, and parts half civilized, were within his reach. After due preparation Mr. Parker entered the ministry, and was settled as pastor over a Unitarian church in West Roxbury, Massachusetts. He first excited the suspicions of the religious world by the delivery of a sermon in South Boston, upon the occasion of the ordination of the Rev. Mr. Shackford, in the early part of the year 1841. We will make a single quotation from this sermon, which will indicate its character:

"It has been assumed at the onset, it would seem, with no sufficient reason, without the smallest pretense on its writer's

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part, that all of its authors were infallibly and miraculously inspired, so that they could commit no error of doctrine or fact. Men have been bid to close their eyes at the obvious difference between Luke and John; the serious disagreement between Paul and Peter, to believe, on the smallest evidence, accounts which shock the moral sense and revolt the reason, and tend to place Jesus in the same series with Hercules and Apollonius of Tyana.

* * * "An idolatrous regard for the imperfect scripture of God's word is the apple of Atalanta, which defeats theologians running for the hand of divine truth. But the current notions respecting the infallible inspiration of the bible have no foundation in the bible itself.”

This sermon created a good deal of excitement among the Unitarian body, especially the conservatives. They were not satisfied that a man holding such views should have the reputation of being a Unitarian clergyman in good standing. At this time Mr. Parker left the country for Europe, where he remained for three years, making the acquaintance of some of its most learned and philanthropic men. Among others, we may mention the name of Thomas Carlyle, who is to this day his warm friend and admirer. In the autumn of 1844 he returned, and exchanged pulpits with the Rev. Mr. Sargent, of Boston, a Unitarian clergyman. The conservative Unitarians were exceedingly indignant that Mr. Sargent should admit such a heretic into his pulpit, and they

commenced a persecution against him, which obliged him to resign his charge. The Rev. Mr. Clarke, another Boston clergyman, soon after offered his pulpit to Mr. Parker, which resulted in great excitement, and a loss of members to the church. The following extract from a sermon preached by Mr. Parker, about this time, will show the nature of his heresy:

"The Jehovah of the Old Testament was awful and sterna man of war, hating the wicked. The sacerdotal conception of God at Rome and Athens was lower yet. No wonder, then, that men soon learned to honor Jesus as a god, and then as God himself. Apostolical and other legends tell of his divine birth, his wondrous power that healed the sick, palsied, and crippled, deaf and dumb, and blind; created bread, turned water into wine, and bid obedient devils come and go-a power that raised the dead. They tell that nature felt with him, and at his death the strongly sympathizing sun paused at high noon, aud for three hours withheld the day; that rocks were rent, and opening graves gave up their sainted dead, who trod once more the streets of Zion, the first fruits of them that slept; they tell, too, how disappointed death gave back his prey, and, spirit-like, Jesus, restored in flesh and shape the same, passed through the doors shut up, and in a bodily form was taken up to heaven before the face of men! Believe men of these things as they will; to me they are not truth and fact, but mythic symbols and poetry; the psalm of praise with which the world's rude heart extols and magnifies its King. It is for his truth and his life, his wisdom, goodness, piety, that he is honored in