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 iTothmgham, Octavius 
 
 Brooks, 1822-1895. 
 Boston Unitarian! 
 
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WORKS BY OCTAVIUS BROOKS FROTHINGHAM. 
 
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 Boston Unitarianism. 1 820-1 840. A Study of the Life and 
 Work of Nathaniel Langdon Frothingham. (Ready, 1890.) 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York and London. 
 
BOSTON UNITARIANISM 
 
 1820-18^0 
 
 A STUDY OF THE LIFE AND WORK 
 
 NATHANIEL LANGDON FROTHINGHAM 
 
 OCTAVIUS BROOKS FROTHINGHAM 
 
 B Sftetcb 
 
 NEW YORK & LONDON 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 ®l^£ ^nitkjrbotlur !^r£SB 
 1S90 
 
COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 OCTAVIUS BROOKS FROTHINGHAM 
 
 Ube ftniciiecboclier ipcess, tHcvt> Ijjock 
 
 Electrotyped, Printed, and Bound by 
 G. P. Putnam's Sons 
 
PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 A woED of explanation seems to be necessary. 
 Many years ago I proposed "svriting something in 
 memory of Dr. Frothingham, but abandoned the 
 project on account of the meagreness of the bio- 
 graphical material. Within the twelvemonth, a 
 warm friend and admirer of his asked me to pre- 
 pare a memoir. Then the matter was reviewed once 
 more, and it occurred to me that some reminiscences 
 of my father might be woven into a sketch of his 
 time. This has been attempted, with what success 
 others must judge. So much is certain, that if I 
 did not undertake the task nobody else would. This 
 will account for the mixture of denominational con- 
 cerns with personal details. It is needless to say that 
 the author writes as an historian, not as an advocate. 
 
 O. B. F. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Prefatory Note .... 
 
 I. — Three Types of Unitarianism 
 II. — An Example 
 III. — The First Church . 
 IV. — The Dogmatical Position 
 V. — Literature and Religion 
 VI. — The Unitarian Layman . 
 VII.— The Old World 
 VIII. — The Freedom of Friendship 
 
 IX. — The Boston Association of Congregationai 
 
 Ministers 
 X. — The End .... 
 
 PAGE 
 
 V 
 
 •I 
 
 15 
 26 
 
 37 
 
 70 
 
 93 
 129 
 
 159 
 
 213 
 228 
 
BOSTON UNITARIANISM 
 
 I. 
 
 THREE TYPES OF UNITARIANISM. 
 
 It lias long seemed to me that justice was not 
 done to the Unitarianism whicli lay between Wil- 
 liam EUeiy Channing on one side, and Theodore 
 Parker on the other ; the simple rationalism as dis- 
 tinguished from the spiritualismi of the former, and 
 the naturali'Wi of the latter ; literary Unitarianism it 
 might be called ; the religion of sentiment, feeling, 
 emotion ; the religion of unadorned good-sense. The 
 fame of these two men so far eclipsed the others, 
 that they sank into general obscurity, and were 
 almost unknown outside of a small circle of admir- 
 ers, while their influence, if acknowledged at all, was 
 considered insignificant. By many they were re- 
 garded as drones, respectable good-for-nothings. Yet, 
 it is my belief, the freedom and ease of movement in 
 the mind of this generation, its elasticity, its grace- 
 fulness, its love of musical expression, its demand 
 
BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 for finisli in thought and phrase, its modest demeanor 
 in presence of deep problems, must be in great meas- 
 ure due to them. Of course, some were more distin- 
 guished than others, but chiefly in distinct fields — 
 as James Walker in philosophy, John G. Palfrey in 
 history, Alexander Young in biography, — but as a 
 class of thinkers they held no eminent place. It is 
 the fashion to depreciate them, to deny them power, 
 to esteem them of small account. That they were 
 destitute of positive, new, creative force, is freely ad- 
 mitted ; but that they were without formative genius 
 or power, is not so easily granted. It was their office 
 to create an atmosphere rather than to advance a 
 cause, to diffuse a spirit of liberality rather than to 
 promote the interests of a system of thought, whether 
 doctrinal or philosophical. They were not organ- 
 izers ; they were not sectaries ; they were not cham- 
 pions of any school ; they were not possessed by any 
 dominant idea ; they had no passion for social reform. 
 J They were simply scholars and gentlemen ; dignified, 
 gracious, genuine, sweet ; fond of elegant studies, of 
 good English, of courteous ways, of poetic expres- 
 sion, of the amenities of life. They were conservative 
 of existing institutions in so far as they allowed the 
 fi'ee movement of cultivated mind, and desired no 
 change except in the direction of mental emancipa- 
 tion. They pushed against no barriers that did not 
 limit the right to walk over all the fields of literature, 
 unimpeded and unchallenged. For the rest, they 
 were contented with things as they were and disliked 
 
THREE TYPES OF UNITARIANISM. 3 
 
 innovation, dreading the intrusion of untried ideas ; 
 agitation, violence, vehemence, even in the advocacy 
 of just principles, they deplored. They believed in 
 the prevalence of sweetness and light. Such men 
 are never creators or leaders. 
 
 That William E. Channing was the father of 
 spiritual Christianity admits of no question. The 
 fact is undisputed. His immense and growing fame, 
 the dedication of churches in his honor, the associa- 
 tion of his name with the sect, the acclaim of its 
 most eminent men, preachers, critics, thinkers, the 
 steady increase of his noblest teachings, while his 
 limitations have been gradually falling aw^ay, the 
 development of his cardinal thoughts — upward, in- 
 ward, outward — all attest this. Admitting the sub- 
 stantial justice of M. Renan's criticism; granting 
 that Channing did not think himself clear on several 
 doctrinal matters ; conceding that he was but half 
 developed as a philosopher ; it is nevertheless true 
 that he was the inspirer of the most exalted souls in 
 the denomination. And this may be easily explained. 
 The insignificance of his physical frame, its w^eakness 
 and infirmity, made him seem a spirit, the more so 
 on account of his untiring pursuit of knowledge and 
 his habitual absorption in high themes, which he 
 clung to and persisted in long after strong people 
 would have abandoned the quest in sheer fatigue. 
 Dr. Dewey, in a discourse delivered after Channing's 
 death, said : " On my first acquaintance with him, it 
 was my happiness to pass a number of weeks under 
 
4 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 his owD roof. His health was then delicate ; he went 
 abroad but little ; his mind was left untouched by 
 the frailty of his body ; and I found it constantly 
 occupied and struggling with great questions, as the 
 highest philosophy, or the highest religion, or the 
 highest freedom of life ; all the day long he pursued 
 the questions which those themes present, without 
 ever slackening or ever turning aside to ordinary 
 and commonplace talk. The range of his subjects 
 was as great as their character : from the most I'econ- 
 dite point in philosophy — the difference between 
 relative and absolute truth — to the forms of philan- 
 thropic enterprise and political thought around him. 
 But his favorite themes were Man and the New 
 ^ Testament ; man, his condition, and the philosophy 
 of his condition ; the New Testament, Jesus Christ, 
 his teaching, and the sublimest contemplation of 
 Grod. Sometimes his mind was upon the same theme, 
 almost without interruption, for an entire week ; 
 yet there was never any weariness in listening, but 
 the weariness of exhaustion." He had his limita- 
 tions, but his incessant endeavor to surmount them 
 reduced them to a negative, subordinate, ephemeral 
 position, like the clouds that obscure the rising 
 sun and must soon be burned a^vay, however solid 
 they look. He was not a man of mere opinions — 
 notions that lay on the surface of his mind and 
 were driven about by the varying winds of doc- 
 trine, owing their temporary })lace, to the book he 
 last read, or the person lie last conversed with, but 
 
THREE TYPES OF UNITARJANISM. 5 
 
 he was a man of deep convictions, wliicli were 
 rooted in liis cliaracter, had an organic growth, and 
 threw off dogmas as the chambered nautihis throws 
 off its covering, 
 
 " Leaving its outgrown shell by life's unresting sea." 
 
 Such a man is of slow increase. His maturity is 
 in the future. He is a seed rather than a forest. 
 Channing said well, when, in answer to one who 
 asked toward the end of his life what he considered 
 to be the happiest period of his existence, he replied 
 with a smile, "About the age of sixty." His true 
 life did begin after his death. 
 
 At the bottom of his heart was a passion for pure 
 religion, andefiled by rite or doctrine. It was the 
 only passion he had, a real thirst for the Living God. 
 The paternal nature of Grod was his cardinal belief, ^ 
 and it was his sole endeavor to explain this and 
 render it vital in all its implications. This principle 
 furnished a basis for his doctrine of an inherent 
 dignity in man ; of the divine Sonship of Jesus 
 Christ, and his mission as the inspirer, friend, ex-^ 
 emplar of the soul ; of the Bible as conveying the 
 Father's benignant will ; of the immortal destiny as 
 a demand of the spiritual part which presupposed a 
 deathless continuance ; of all reasonable attempts to 
 elevate society. This alone justified the hope of 
 temporal and eternal good. In fact, his central con- 
 viction was the love of God. The invincible optimism 
 it aroused never left him. He had a genuine enthu- 
 
6 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 siasm for truth, mental freedom and moral excel- 
 lence. He was " always young for liberty." Miss 
 Peabody reports him as saying : " I would not for 
 the world interrupt or check your thought. ... I 
 would not for the world throw a damper on earnest- 
 ness of inquiry ; it is only by grappling with great 
 questions that there can be any progress." His inti- 
 mate friends say that he possessed a fine imagination, 
 that he had a nice sense of color and lines. But this 
 faculty was never unfolded. He was never a poet, 
 excej^t as every idealist must be one at heart. The 
 tendency of his mind was toward philosophical 
 speculation, and the bent of his will was in the 
 direction of practical evils to be removed. His 
 songs were spiritual. He thought more of the good- 
 ness in nature than of its beauty. That AVashiugton 
 Allston, his brother-in-law, prized his opinion of pict- 
 ures, simply proves the existence of artistic sensibility 
 in the constitution. The aim was spiritual, all the 
 time, and attests the spirituality of Allston' s art, 
 quite as much as Channing\s taste in praising. The 
 man cared nothing about Unitarianism, simply be- 
 cause he abhorred division, and professed it merely 
 on account of its unpopularity. His whole concern 
 was with religion, not even with Christianity other- 
 wise than as it was, in his estimation, the highest 
 form of religion, the most potent instrument for 
 cultivating tlie human soul. Of intellectual ac- 
 complishments, of literary finish, of philosophical 
 talent, of learning, of scholarship, of criticism, he 
 
THREE TYPES OF UNITARIANISM. / 
 
 had no opinion whatever, unless as aids to a divine 
 purpose, 
 
 Teclinically, Dr. Channing belonged to tlie Scotch^ 
 system of philosophy — that of common-sense — dry, 
 prosaic, unimaginative. But, really, he was a disci- 
 ple of the intuitive school ; nor is it at all surprising "^ 
 that the transcendentalism of a later epoch was de- 
 rived from that adoring soul ; that George Ripley 
 borrowed an impulse from him ; that Mr. Emerson, 
 €ven, was indebted to him for inspiration. The 
 intuitive philosophy would appear to be most con- 
 sistent with Channing's leading ideas — with his in- 
 terior or subjective conception of God as a Father, 
 with his moral view of Christ as the perfect man, 
 with his doctrine of a similarity of nature between 
 the human and the divine spirit, with his interpreta- 
 tion of the Bible as a message of love to the mind of 
 man — his reading of the heart's natural compassion 
 into the text being well known. It was his main 
 objection to the doctrine of hell that it outraged 
 every instinctive feeling of justice and mercy. On 
 one occasion, when an objector cited the " woe unto 
 you scribes and pharisees " as an evidence that Jesus 
 was not always animated by absolute kindness, he 
 took down the New Testament and, rendering the 
 Greek into " alas for you," gave a new meaning to 
 the passage. Miss Peabody mentions the case of a 
 young man who flung in his teeth the declaration, 
 "Ye are of your father the devil." Dr. Channing 
 paraphrased the verse, and then repeated it in a tone 
 
BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 that conveyed earnestness alone, without a trace of 
 anger. " Oh," said the young man, '' if Jesus spoke 
 in that tvay I have no doubts." In this instance, as 
 in a great many others, Dr. Channing assumed the 
 
 ^ jsuperiority of the affections. Love being the high- 
 'est principle, he took that for his chief authority 
 against historical probability. 
 
 Channing, therefore, stood at one extreme, as the 
 illustration of spii'itual aspiration. At the other 
 extreme stood Theodore Parker, an illustration of 
 
 ^ the power of practical will. With every disposition 
 to grant Mr. Parker's extraordinary force and emi- 
 nent service ; with the heartiest admission of his 
 claim upon admiration and love ; with grateful ac- 
 knowledgment of his integrity, singleness of mind,, 
 outspokenness, courage, unaffected warm-heartedness, 
 tenderness of feeling, catholicity of sentiment — his 
 
 ^] talent was practical, not speculative. He was an 
 enormous reader, but not a subtle thinker. He had 
 a prodigious memory, but not a penetrating intellect 
 or soaring imagination. Though he honored Dr. 
 Channing, listened reverently to him, spoke beauti- 
 fully of him in a funeral discourse, he probably 
 never caught his genius, or fully comprehended his 
 mind. Mr. Parker kept a record of every thing, had 
 an outside acquaintance with all systems, could put 
 his finger on every significant name or passage, but 
 his ability to describe opinions was out of proportion 
 to his inward appreciation of them. He was not 
 f'omplex. He was not seraphic. lie was not aerial 
 
THREE TYPES OF UNITARIANISM. 9 
 
 or winged. Terrestrial lie essentially was ; not, by 
 any means, " of the eartli, earthy," for no one was 
 ever more clean, heroic, devoted, than he ; no one 
 was more consecrated to the most exalted human 
 aims. But he must have liiiman aims. He was prac- 
 tical, executive, charged with stern mental force, a 
 Titan, not an angel, a Briareus with a hundred hands. 
 One has only to read his '' Discourse on Religion " to 
 see how muscular his persuasions were. In the 
 early days of the Transcendental discussion, it was 
 evident that this " Orson of j)arsons " used the new 
 philosophy as a club wherewith to belabor his oppo-V/ 
 neuts. To a friend he said, as Luther said to Me- 
 lancthon, " I was born to thunder and lighten, and 
 break things down to the ground." He was an agi- 
 tator by temperament. It is often said, that the 
 Unitarian controversy and the anti-slavery movement 
 diverted him from his ultimate work. That they 
 diverted him from his ulterior design is quite pos- 
 sible; but that they injured his actual achievement 
 may be doubted. He misapprehended his own office, 
 which was to destroy, not to build up. In reality 
 these convulsions were his opportunity. They called 
 forth his characteristic qualities, his directness, his 
 frankness, his eloquence of speech, his wit, his sar- 
 casm, his bluntness of sentiment, his invective, his 
 power of denunciation and contempt. His closet- 
 writing would never probably have been of great 
 value, nor would he have been famous as a scholar. 
 He thought of himself as a I'eformer of faith, a se^- 
 
lO BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 ond Lutlier. William E. Cbanning was " cautious 
 and timid both in thought and action," in his view. 
 There was no reform in which he did not take a 
 part, and the air was thick with the breath of change. 
 Every institution rushed to Judgment. " In the his- 
 tory of the world," said Emerson then, " the doctrine 
 of reform had never such hope as at the present 
 hour." It was the abstract conscience against all 
 conventionalities. The result of which was a com- 
 plete overturning of all social arrangements ; for 
 these were placed at the mercy of individual caprice, 
 the gathered usage of the past not being accepted * 
 as authority. It should be added that Mr. Parker 
 was not always on the destructive side. He had 
 N\ conservative leanings, for personal feeling is apt to 
 be conservative, and his personal feelings were very 
 strong. For instance, he attended the anti-Sabbath 
 convention, and made a speech in favor of the Sun- 
 day. Still he took part in it, as Dr. Channing did 
 not, though the latter was present as a listener, 
 and in so doing admitted the principle that the pri- 
 vate soul may pronounce on institutions, a doctrine 
 that offended the more deliberate judgment of a 
 large number of his contemporaries. Parker was a 
 headlong man. Fortunately his impulses were all 
 noble, and his tremendous force of will was directed 
 in humane paths, and was made a power of Justice. 
 At the time, however, this could not be generally 
 seen, even by such as were in sympathy with the 
 ultimate aim, as Channing certainly was ; while the 
 
THREE TYPES OF UNITARIANISM. II 
 
 more timid or prudent, or thoughtful, or lukewarm, 
 turned away in disgust, under an impression that 
 the problems were too delicate for any summary 
 treatment, and must be left to the slow working of 
 reason. 
 
 To this last class belonged the Unitarians I would 
 describe, a class of men who lay between Channing 
 and Parker, lacking the fervent spirituality of the 
 one, and the impassioned earnestness of the other; 
 men of quiet culture and scholarshij), of elegant 
 tastes, relined manners, and dignified conduct ; social, 
 affable, amiable, kind, gentle, but not in the smallest 
 degree volcanic, or sulphureous, or explosive with 
 wrath, however "holy." This type of clergyman is 
 admirably depicted in Dr. Frothingham's tribute to 
 his friend. Dr. Lunt, prepared for the Massachusetts 
 Historical Society. He used these words : " In the- 
 ology. Dr. Lunt stood far on the right wing, though 
 not on the extreme right, of the Unitarian denomi- 
 nation. Reverence for antiquity and established 
 belief, for the early Church and the sacred associa- 
 tions of the past, wrought strongly within him. He 
 loved to hold fast, so far as he could, to the language 
 of Scripture, and to the doctrine, liberally inter- 
 preted, which had come down from the fathers. He 
 was more ready to accept than anxious to define 
 hallowed phrases. While he was open to new light, 
 he was jealous of innovations. He shrank from all 
 approach to the subversive speculations of the new- 
 est criticism. While he repelled with every power 
 
12 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 of his intellect, every instinct of his conscience, every 
 throb of his heart, the dogmas of Calvinistic divinity, 
 yet his Puritan soul leaned back, as far as it dared, 
 toward ancient formulas. . . . The political and 
 reformatory movements of the day he was slow to 
 admit into his pulpit. Controversial religion was 
 not to his liking. The Biblical neologies of our new 
 times were an offense, if not an alarm to him. He 
 held the literal word reverently dear, although he 
 endeavored to give it an expansive scope, and sought 
 underneath it the most spiritual significances." Noth- 
 ing could be more exact than this so far as it goes. 
 But it should be added, that the faith we are con- 
 cerned with laid stress on the old virtues of private 
 character — purity, moderation, kindness, hospitality, 
 generosity, peacefulness, hopefulness, humility, truth 
 — rather than on the philosophical foundations of 
 belief, or the changes necessary to perfect society. 
 Its whole purpose was to create good men, trusting 
 to their influence for the regeneration of mankind, 
 avoiding whatever, by causing disturbance, might 
 alienate, discourage, or divert men from self-exami- 
 nation and self-discipline. It was certain that the 
 \' multitude cared nothing for philosophical specula- 
 tion, and it was equally certain that any discussion 
 of social themes would arouse disaifection. The 
 field of Christian character was wide, and its ele- 
 ments were well understood and cordially respected. 
 We need not, as was the fashion, impute cowardice 
 to the resolution to shun dispute and division and 
 
THREE TYPES OF UNITARIANISM. 1 3 
 
 pretentiousness. There was a deliberate purpose to 
 keep clear of "exciting" subjects, a definite, sys- 
 tematic, reasoned exclusion of every thing that 
 looked like an introduction of controverted topics. 
 There was certainly a good deal to be said in favor v 
 of the policy of silence. Timidity there was as- 
 suredly, but there was also a rationale of conserva- 
 tism, as Emerson explained. Temperament had a 
 good deal to do with this moral quiescence ; education 
 played a large part ; association was important ; social 
 position, for the clergy were at the head of the social 
 scale, had a great influence. But the prime circum- 
 stance of all was a theory of ministerial responsibility 
 to the profession. The Church was to them an 
 institution, a divine institution. Its forms of observ- 
 ance and faith were appointed from on high. Its 
 Christ was a Saviour; its Bible was a revelation. 
 And while interpretations might differ as to the 
 meaning of the creed, or the significance of the cere- 
 monies, there they were, and their validity must be 
 admitted by every priest. The servant must serve 
 dutifully. He that rejects the Church must not be- 
 long to it. If one wishes to throw stones at the 
 windows he must go outside. This, in short, was 
 the argument. It was diflicult, if not impossible, to 
 answer, half a century or more ago. Mr. Emerson 
 having tried in vain to widen the Church, left it for 
 another career. George Rij)ley abandoned it because 
 it did not allow of industrial experiments. Parker 
 remained in it, though he too had virtually seceded 
 
14 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 from it, having dropped the sacraments, discarded 
 the creed, rejected the Bible as a source of authority ,^ 
 deprived Jesus of his saving attributes, and shifted 
 the centre of inspiration to another basis. His pro- 
 digious popular talent enabled him to undertake 
 this. Of course, he was perfectly honest. His sin- 
 cerity was above dispute. But his critics said that 
 the position he held was not logical. Nor was it. 
 His invincible force alone made it tolerable ; and as 
 they did not possess this invincible force, they could 
 not understand it. Now all is changed; but then 
 it could hardly be surprising if good men — the best 
 men — postponed their private wishes and closet opin- 
 ions to the overwhelming strength of the instituted 
 religion, with its immense influence, its all but uni- 
 versal following, its definite hopes, clear promises, 
 and vast benefactions. Even the largest humanities 
 lay concealed there, if one could wait for them. So 
 these men wrought in faith, and were patient. They 
 did not believe in leaving their ark. Though it 
 floated on troubled waters, it did float. It was 
 " narrow " ; it was not any too nice ; still, the future 
 of man seemed to be in it ; the dove was sent out, 
 the pledge of dry land was welcomed. This was its 
 prayer : 
 
 And still on life's baptizing tide 
 
 Or sorrow's bitter sea, 
 Descending Peace be multiplied 
 
 And hallow hearts to Thee. 
 
II. 
 
 AN EXAMPLE. 
 
 Perhaps the class of believers liere described can 
 be best portrayed by an instance, and I choose Na- 
 thaniel Langdon Frothingham, partly because I 
 know him better than I know others, partly because 
 my own disposition furnishes, in some degree, a key 
 to his, and partly because he was an unique, typical, 
 well-known person, admirably supplied with the 
 qualities that illustrated his companions. The fam- 
 ily was an old one, and, in some of its branches, 
 distinguished. It bore a coat-of-arms, a sign of 
 gentility. The origin of the name is uncertain ; it 
 may come from " Frod-hame " (the home of the 
 sage), or from " Fodder-hame " (the home of the 
 man who furnishes the fodder for cattle), or " Foight- 
 ing-hame " (the home of the warrior). In Scotland 
 it was associated with dukes. " Fotheringay " may 
 be the same appellation. The spelling was various, 
 Frottinghame, Frattinghame, Flathinghame. The 
 family was probably of Scottish descent, but the 
 " Signiory " of Holderness in Yorkshire appears to 
 have been its chief seat. There was Frodinghame 
 
 IS 
 
l6 BOSTON UNITARIAA'ISM. 
 
 Hall, the residence of tlie feudal lords of the soil 
 fi'om near the Conquest until the seventeenth cen- 
 tury. A certain Piers Frothingham married a daugh- 
 ter of Sir William Boynton de Sadberg, in 1250. 
 We hear of a Sir Peter Frothingham in 1314; of 
 Sir Peter de Frothingham, his descendant. There 
 was a Rev. Sir William in 1503. Sir John Lister 
 Frothingham was knighted by Charles I. The 
 Frothinghams of Holderness attained to some opu- 
 lence through mercantile operations. But none of 
 this splendor lighted on the AVilliam Frothingham 
 who came to New England, probably with John 
 Winthrop in 1630; who was appointed in 1634 one 
 of eleven Selectmen of Charlestown ; and was, at 
 first, an adherent of John Wheelwright, of Anne 
 Hutchinson memory. This William was a soi't of 
 carpenter. The family pursued a peaceful and 
 honest calling as cabinet-makers, joiners, carriage- 
 builders, in the colony. Of this William, Nathaniel 
 Langdon was a direct descendant. His father, 
 Ebenezer, was a crockery-merchant and appraiser 
 of taxes in Marshall's Lane, near the Boston Stone. 
 He married Joanna Langdon, — whence the middle 
 name. The name '' Nathaniel " was common in the 
 family, and Miss Langdon had a brother so called, 
 which circumstance added weight at the baptism 
 of the eldest son. 
 
 Nathaniel Langdon Frothingham was born on 
 the twenty-third day of July, 1793. The house still 
 stands, though somewhat altered in the course of 
 
AN EXAMPLE. 1/ 
 
 years. Before the Frothingliams held it it was 
 owned by Ebenezer Hancock, younger brother of 
 the Governor, who was paymaster in the army, an 
 office which made him very popular, especially when 
 the treasury had something in it. The house was a 
 comfortable brick mansion, not stylish, but in a 
 fashionable quarter of the town, on a narrow way at 
 some distance from the main street. Boston was 
 then a small place, of somewhat over thirty thousand 
 inhabitants. Faneuil Hall was standing, so was the 
 corn-market near by, whence comes Corn Hill ; but 
 the spot which Quincy Market occupies was covered 
 with water. The " Neck " was a neck indeed, thin 
 and slender. Charles Street bounded the city on the 
 west. The mansion of Governor Hancock was con- 
 sidered out of town. The child was too young to 
 see the fifteen milk-white horses which drew the 
 corner-stone of the new State-House to its place on 
 the hill in the " Governor's Pasture," where, on the 
 4th of July, 1795, it was dedicated with grand 
 masonic ceremonies, in presence of Governor Samuel 
 Adams, Paul Revere looking on. But he might 
 have witnessed the procession when the members of 
 the General Court walked solemnly from the old 
 State-House to their new lodgings in Beacon Street. 
 For this was in 1798. 
 
 Yes, Boston was a small town territorially, but 
 intellectually there was probably no city in the 
 world so full of life. It was always remarkable for 
 explosions of mind. Nor is this wonderful as we 
 
1 8 BOSTON UNITARTANISM. 
 
 remember the cliaracter of the men who founded it, 
 — their mental force, their education, their moral 
 courage, their independence, their spiritual energ}' 
 One of the first things they did was to found a col- 
 lege. In 1636 the General Court voted the sum of 
 £400 towards the undertaking, and its influence has 
 been steadily exerted in favor of thought. Libraries 
 sprang up rapidly, stimulating knowledge of every 
 kind. There was a passion for learning. There was 
 from of old faith in reason, and faith that reason would 
 Justify reverence. Books multiplied. It is true that 
 Noah Webster ^vl•ote ten letters to Dr. Joseph Priest- 
 ley, who had criticised in a stately manner the literary 
 services of America, — letters that were printed in a 
 pamphlet at New Haven in 1801, — in the course of 
 which he allowed that " our colleges are disgrace- 
 fully destitute of books and philosophical appara- 
 tus " ; that " scarcely a branch of science can be 
 fully investigated in America " ; that " in the higher 
 branches of literature our learning is superficial to a 
 shameful degree " ; that " as to classical learning, 
 history, civil and ecclesiastical, mathematics, astron- 
 omy, chemistry, botany, and natural history, except- 
 ing here and there a rare instance of a man who is 
 eminent in some one of these branches, we may be 
 said to have no learning at all, or a mere smattering " ; 
 that " as to libraries, we have no such thing. There 
 are not more than three or four tolerable libraries in 
 America, and these are extremel}^ imperfect." And 
 George Ticknor, in 1814, complained that "good 
 
AN EXAMPLE. 1 9 
 
 school-books were rare in Bostou, and that no copy 
 of Euripides, in Greek, was to be found in any book- 
 store in New England." But this was to be expected 
 in a country which had but few scholars, was poor, 
 thinly peopled, and mainly devoted to industrial 
 pursuits. And when we remember that Noah 
 Webster was writing to a man of science, besides 
 being captious himself, and that George Ticknor 
 trod the upper fields of literature, there is pretty 
 warm praise. Webster asserts that "almost all read 
 the best English authors. ... If you can find any ^ 
 country in Europe where this is done to the same 
 extent as in New England, I am very ill informed." 
 {" American Men of Letters, Noah Webster," p. 106.) 
 A literaiy club, called the " Anthology Club," was 
 formed in 1804, established a reading-room in 1806, 
 was incorporated as the Boston Athenaeum a little 
 while afterwards. After two locations — one in 
 Scollay Square, another in Tremont Street, where 
 the building of the Historical Society now stands — 
 it was removed to Pearl Street, to the large house 
 presented to the corporation by James Perkins. In 
 1820 there were 20,000 volumes on the shelves. 
 The library of Harvard University, which began 
 with 300 volumes, had 72,000 in 1850, and now 
 numbers more than 300,000. So inordinate was, 
 from the outset, the craving for information. My 
 father in his manhood made constant use of the y 
 Athenaeum and of Harvard College library. At 
 this time, or soon after, there were fine private col- 
 
20 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 lections of books : Cliarles F. Adams' (18,000), W. 
 H. Prescott's (16,000), George Ticknor's (13,000), Ed- 
 ward Everett's (7,500). Every gentleman had books» 
 Public schools were established early, the first one 
 being opened in 1635. Private schools had patrons. 
 " The teaching and maturing " of youth was immedi- 
 ately thought of. John Cotton, it is thought, set on 
 foot the Latin School, having brought from old 
 Boston, in Lincolnshire, the memory of the Free 
 Grammar School founded by Queen Mary. When 
 young Frothingham was ready to go, it was prob- 
 ably under the charge of Samuel Hunt, who took 
 the head mastership in 1776, and remained in 
 possession for about thirty years. The school- 
 building then stood where the Parker House is 
 now. Mr. Hunt was a master of the ancient type, 
 but there is no record of young Frothingham as 
 being an unruly lad, or any thing but a good 
 scholar. The fact that he afterward was a tutor 
 there is evidence of that. 
 
 From the Latin school he went, naturally, to 
 Harvard College. Harvard Hall was at that time 
 the centre of college life. There the professors met 
 the pupils, there the pupils met each other ; there 
 was the library. University Hall was not built 
 until 1815. When Frothingham entered there were 
 three dormitories, Massachusetts Hall, Hollis, and 
 Stoughton. The college yard was considerably 
 smaller than it is now. 
 
 Samuel Webber, the former Professor of Mathe- 
 
AN EXAMPLE. 21 
 
 matics, was inaugurated President of the College oi. 
 May 12, 1806, but died on July 7, 1810 ; and John 
 Thornton Kirklaud was chosen in his place. He 
 was inaugurated on the 14th of November, 1810, 
 and had a distinguished administration. Early in 
 his career attention was turned to the necessity of 
 establishing a School of Theology in the University. 
 The bequest of the Hon. Samuel Dexter of $5,000 
 for the purpose of promoting a " critical knowledge 
 of the Holy Scriptures " was announced to the Cor- 
 poration by his son about five months before Dr. 
 Kirkland came in. In May, 1811, trustees of the 
 Dexter Fund were appointed, and in August of the 
 same year Joseph Stevens Buckminster was chosen 
 Dexter Lecturer on Biblical Criticism. This re- 
 markable step was preceded by a period of gradual 
 change in doctrinal opinion, and led to the forma- 
 tion, in 1816, of "A Society for the Promotion of 
 Theological Education in Harvard University," with 
 this fundamental article in its constitution : " It be- 
 ing understood that every encouragement be given 
 to the serious, impartial, and unbiassed investigation 
 of Christian truth, and that no assent to the peculi- 
 arities of any denomination be required either of the 
 Students, or Professors, or Instructors." The Society 
 was officered as follows : John Thornton Kirkland, 
 D. D., President ; Samuel Parkman, Israel Thorn- 
 dike, and Peter C. Brooks, Vice-Presidents ^ Francis 
 Parkman, Recording Secretary ; Charles Lowell, Cor- 
 responding Secretary / Jonathan Phillips, Treasurer / 
 
22 BOSTON UNITARIAxVISM. 
 
 James Savage Vice-Treasurer ; Dr. Porter, Joseph 
 Story, Josiah Bartlett, Daniel A. White, Joseph 
 Coolidge, James Perkins, Dr. Popkin, Charles Davis, 
 John Howe, Directors ; Benjamin Pickmau, William 
 iPrescott, James Lloyd, Josiah Quincy, Andrew 
 Ritchie, Trustees,' Thomas Wigglesworth, Samuel 
 May, Israel Manson, Auditors. Life subscriptions, 
 annual subscriptions, and donations supported the 
 Society. 
 
 " Commencement " at Harvard was a great day, a 
 public day, festive and showy. It was formerly 
 wild, turbulent, rude, as the 4th of Jul}'" was, as all 
 holidays were ; but it had become more decorous 
 and elegant. Young Frothingham had an English 
 oration, the subject of which was " The Cultivation 
 of the Taste and Imagination," and which was de- 
 scribed by Dr. Pierce as " written Avith purity and 
 pronounced with elegance." 
 
 Of the career at Cambridge little is known. He 
 was an exemplary youth, dutiful, diligent, faithful ; 
 but he did not distinguish himself until his third 
 year, when he became eminent as a classical scholar, 
 as a writer of pure English, as a rhetorician, the 
 special favorite of Joseph McKean, the Professor of 
 Oratory. His selection for the English oration on 
 graduating and his later appointment as teacher of 
 rhetoric and oratory at the age of nineteen are proofs 
 I of his capacity and taste. He was of the class of 
 1811; was but eighteen when he graduated; was 
 preceptor for three years, studied divinity in the 
 
AN EXAMPLE. 23 
 
 meantime, and was ordained minister of the First 
 Cliurcli in Boston, in 1815. Here he remained as 
 long as he was able to fill a pulpit, leading a literary 
 and chiirchly life, devoted to parish work, secluded 
 and laborious. The duties at Cambridge were not 
 arduous, and it was easy to prepare for a profession 
 which, at that time, required no outward experience 
 of a social kind, but a large acquaintance with books 
 and opinions. The Church was then the great open- 
 ing for aspiring young men. Theology was the most 
 tempting study. The ministry was the chosen pro- 
 fession. Edward Everett, Frothingham's classmate, 
 was first a clergyman ; so were Mr. Palfrey and 
 Mr. Sparks. Advancement was through this call- 
 ing. Literature clustered about it. The community 
 honored it. It was devoted to the highest ends, 
 those of piety, humanity, and knowledge. It was 
 ideal in the most exalted sense. It gave the widest 
 expansion to the mind. The Unitarian ministry, in 
 particular, greatly owing to the influence of Dr. 
 Kirkland and Mr. Buckminster, was the resort of 
 aspiring souls and opened a large career. BothC 
 science and philosophy were in this country but 
 speculations, untried and ineffectual. The English 
 and Scotch scholars had the field, and it was undis- 
 puted. Literature was baptized into the name of 
 religion, and learning was identical with belief in 
 the Gospel. Criticism was confined to Germany. 
 Infidelity had a bad name. But inside of Christian- 
 ity reason was free ; mind was unfettered ; conscience 
 
24 BOSTON UNITAFIANISM. 
 
 was buoyant, energetic, humane ; each had room 
 ^ enough. Ardent spirits found faith secure, and 
 spirits not ardent could repose and ponder at lei- 
 sure. There was no turmoil, no exciting warfare, no 
 moral agitation. The political as well as the social 
 horizon was unclouded. The period of anti-slavery 
 struggle had not begun. Transcendentalism was 
 unborn ; Humanitarianism was still in the air ; Ra- 
 tionalism, in the later objectionable sense, was un- 
 heard of. Ripley and Emerson were boys, Pai'ker 
 was a child, Channiug had not preached his Balti- 
 more sermon. Mr. Frothingham had been five years 
 in the pulpit when the Unitarian controversy broke 
 out, so guileless was the current opinion, so light 
 was the bondage of the creed, so easy was it to 
 " walk large " over the religious domain, changing 
 idols into ideals, sacraments into symbols, and dog- 
 mas into sentiments. The Unitarian schism was 
 probably inevitable, and we are bound to believe 
 was, on the whole, beneficial to the cause of truth. 
 But in his moments of sentimentalism one is inclined 
 to wish that the bitterness of dispute might have 
 been spared, that the gradual transformation of the 
 ancient faith might have been allowed to go peace- 
 fully on. The old bottles must break under the 
 pressure of fermentation in the new wine, but we 
 cannot severely blame those who, wishing to pre- 
 serve the well-seasoned jars, diluted the wine and 
 prevented the fermentation. They were determined 
 to exhaust the capacity of the l^eloved vessels before 
 
AN EXAMPLE. 25 
 
 trying new ones, and naturally felt a tenderness for 
 the rich skins that interfered somewhat with their 
 liking for the wine. In fact they did not believe in 
 the quality of the new wine, being deeply persuaded 
 that the branch could not bear fruit itself, unless it 
 abode in the vine, and that Christ was the vine. To 
 doubt that, was not to be thought of. Whatever 
 else might be questioned, this stood fast. This must 
 be assumed as a first principle. All Christian faith 
 was built on this, new and old alike, and although 
 the interpretations of the Saviour's rank, mission, 
 office, might vary as years went on, this central 
 position remained unassailable. 
 
III. 
 
 THE FIRST CHITRCH. 
 
 The history of the First Church in Boston deserves 
 serious study. It is the history of spiritual New 
 England ; a history of intellectual growth. I am 
 convinced that an instructive chapter in the story of 
 evolution might be written, showing that Trans- 
 cendentalism was a legitimate product of Puritanism ; 
 that Emerson was a direct descendant of the Mathers. 
 The sacerdotalism had long ago dropped off; the 
 dogmatism had disappeared ; but the force of the 
 idealism persisted, and faith in the moral nature of 
 man, which was the distinguishing feature of Emer- 
 son's teaching, rose high. The church had deep 
 foundations. It was first organized in Charlestown 
 by John Winthrop and his friends, in pursuance of 
 their plan to make the Christian virtues supreme. 
 So eager were they that they could not wait for any 
 meeting-house, even the humblest, but gathered under 
 a tree, thus foreshadowing Bryant's idea in regard to 
 man's " first temples." 
 
 " The groves were (lod's first temples." 
 c6 
 
THE FIRST CHURCH. 2 J 
 
 On the same day, August 27, 1630, Rev. John 
 Wilson was installed as "teacher." Next year a 
 removal to the south side of the river took place, 
 and, in 1632, a house of woi-ship was erected on the 
 south side of State Street, on the corner of Devon- 
 shire Street. It was exceedingly simple, vnXh mud 
 walls and thatched roof. The second meeting-house 
 was built on Washington Street, opposite State 
 Street, then '' Cornhill Square." This was more 
 stately, and was burned in the lire of October, 1710. 
 The third house, erected on the same spot, and 
 familiarly known as the " Old Brick," was dedicated 
 on May 3, 1713. This was taken down in 1808, 
 and, the same year, the building in Chauncy Place 
 was put up. The " Governor's pew " in the '' Old 
 Brick" was a conspicuous object, with its curtains 
 and its raised platform. The architecture was of the 
 colonial p)eriod, unadorned and simple, yet cheerful 
 too. The Chauncy Place meeting-house was altered 
 in the summer of 1843, a flat roof of colored panes 
 being substituted for the high ceiling, and giving 
 rise to the "witticism that Dr. Frothino-ham was croins; 
 to try to ''raise Christians under glass." Business 
 claimed this site also, and in 1868 the new edifice 
 at the corner of Marlborough and Berkeley streets 
 received the society. 
 
 Mr. Frothingham was ordained, after a unanimous 
 invitation, on the 15th of March, 1815, Dr. McKean 
 preaching the sermon, Mr. Channing offering the 
 prayer of consecration, Dr. John Lathrop giving the 
 
28 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 charge, Mr. Tbaclier making the address to the people, 
 Dr. Henry AVare, the elder, offering the opening 
 supplication. There was an ecclesiastical council, of 
 course, and a dinner after the exercises at " Conceii} 
 Hall." Hymns of a solemn strain were sung after 
 the dinner, which, we may hope, was festive. 
 
 The predecessors of Mr. Frothingham were re- 
 markable men — some of them distino-uished : John 
 Wilson, John Cotton, John Norton, John Davenport, 
 James Allen, John Oxeubridge, Benjamin Wads- 
 worth, Thomas Bridge, Thomas Foxcroft, Charles 
 Chauncy, John Clarke, William Emerson, John 
 Love joy Abbot. Dr. Chauncy was my father's 
 favorite, apparently on account of his liberality and 
 sweetness. In a discourse on" occasion of the two 
 hundredth anniversary of the church's existence, 
 August 29, 1830, he wrote this: "With Chauncy 
 a new era commenced. He viewed religion with 
 naked human eyes, and not in unreal visions, or 
 through the discolored and distorting medium of 
 technical systems. He looked upon the world, and 
 was not afraid to bind up his hopes in the common 
 hopes of mankind. He looked up to heaven, and its 
 throne was to him filled with the unclouded radiancy 
 of love. He beheld the churches agitated with a 
 storm of religious excitement, and he rebuked both 
 the winds and the sea." Dr. Chauncy was minister 
 from October, 1727, until February, 1787. He was 
 ^\ not technically a Unitarian — that is, he did not deny 
 the Trinity, but his was the religion of the heart, and 
 
THE FIRST CHURCH. 29 
 
 Tie admitted the humanity, while preserving the 
 dignity, of his profession. A curious illustration of 
 this was his driving through the streets of Boston in 
 an old-fashioned chaise with long shafts, and a seat 
 for the driver where our whiffletree is. The doctor 
 sat up straight, in a cocked hat and with a gold- 
 headed cane, and the driver, who, in this case, was a 
 negro boy, gave his companions, as he met them, a 
 touch with his whip. The picture was a droll one, 
 — the city, the vehicle, the stately parson, the small 
 snip of a boy, the absence of rebuke. In all the 
 history of the church there was no discussion on 
 theological grounds, strictly. There might have been 
 a difference of opinion, but there was no dispute 
 about beliefs. Change in belief came gradually andi/^ 
 almost imperceptibly. There was simply a more 
 generous interpretation of ancient formulas. Of 
 the least theological disaffection in the church, no 
 record is extant. 
 
 The original covenant of the church, never dis- 
 avowed or altered, is exceedingly tender, spirituiil, 
 and humane. There is no savor of dogmatism about 
 it. Here it is : 
 
 "In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ and in 
 obedience to His holy will and Divine ordinance. 
 
 "We whose names are hereunder written, being 
 by His most wise and good Providence brought 
 together into this j)art of America in the Bay of 
 Massachusetts, and desirous to unite ourselves into 
 one congregation or church, under the Lord Jesus 
 
30 BOSl^ON UNITAKIANISM. 
 
 Christ our Head, in sucli faith as becometh all those 
 whom He hath redeemed and sanctified to Himself, 
 do hereby solemnly and religiously (as in His most 
 holy presence) promise, and bind ourselves, to walk 
 in all our ways according to the rule of the Gospels, 
 and in mutual love, and respect each to the other, so 
 far as God shall give us grace." 
 
 This Covenant was repeated, on the occasion of 
 the installation of the present minister, the faith was 
 reiterated, the pledge emphasized. The condition of 
 the promise '* to walk in all our ways according to 
 the rule of the Gospels, so far as God shall give us 
 grace" proved to be quite necessary, for there en- 
 sued a sharp collision between the first incumbents 
 when the " Antinomian Controversy " raged, and 
 there were occasional infelicities of temper, but the 
 purity of the faith was unbroken. The belief in the 
 divinity of the Son of God, His special mission as 
 Saviour of the world, and in the Bible as a direct 
 revelation of the Supreme Will, was the traditional 
 creed of the church which no member was at liberty 
 to disavow. Whatever might be objected to it from 
 outside, inside the communion every man of honor 
 was bound by it so long as he remained ; so long, that 
 is, as his private convictions allowed him to profess 
 it as, in the main, true. The large indefiniteness of 
 the articles rendered it easy to interpret them libei*- 
 ally, and to submit private thoughts to public 
 declarations, in the interest of brotherhood and 
 spiritual edification. The love of Christ was con- 
 
THE FIRST CHURCH. 31 
 
 straining and inasmuch as no fetters of dogmatism 
 were felt, the mind could range over a broad field 
 without disloyalty. 
 
 One usage Mr. Cotton brought over from old 
 Boston in Lincolnshire, the famous lecture which he 
 preached every Thursday, while he was under the 
 directions of the Bishop of Lincoln j and in relations 
 of friendship with the Earl of the same title. It was 
 well called " great," for great it was at first. On the 
 very month of its establishment the Court issued an 
 order prescribing the hour at which it should be 
 attended, one o'clock in the day. The hour was 
 presently changed, first to twelve o'clock, and, 
 towards the close of the century, to eleven. This 
 was in the time of Increase Mather, who reproved 
 the people for their slack attendance, and declared 
 that " it would be an omen of their not enjoying it 
 long, if they did not amend." But in the beginning 
 there was no tardiness. On the 4th of March, 1684, 
 by order of court a " marcate " was erected at 
 Boston, to be kept upon Thursday the 5th day of 
 the week, being the lecture day." About the same 
 time, an excommunicated person was compelled to 
 confess, among other offences, his " sometimes for- 
 saking the Lecture," — for the sake of some vicious 
 indulgence, it was surmised. At the meeting all 
 that was most honorable was in attendance. The 
 governor was present, the counsellors were in at- 
 tendance ; the magistrates, the dignitaries, the people 
 of all conditions, from miles around. The Ullages 
 
32 BOSTON- UNITARIANISM. 
 
 sent their pastors and farmers. The college sent 
 its officers and students. The schools dismissed 
 their pupils, for all minor instruction must cease. 
 The circumstance that Thursday was fixed for 
 public executions and that the culprit had to at- 
 tend on the sermon, may have had an effect in 
 drawing a crowd. The social customs and even the 
 dress of men and women were affected. The rules of 
 conduct, the tenets of faith, the laws of the State 
 felt the influence. There were rows of scarlet 
 cloaks, and piles of artificial hair, and the bright 
 faces of beauty. The lecture was followed by a 
 gathering of the people, the discussion of municipal 
 regulations, and the consideration of all matters that 
 concerned the community. 
 
 From this high estate the institution went through 
 sevei'al propesses of decline. Its honor decreased, 
 its attendance fell off, the cold weather sensibly 
 diminished the audience. In the winter of 1715, 
 during a violent snow-storm, the worshippers were so 
 few that some curious chronicler counted but sixteen 
 women and two hundred men. In 1830 scarcely a 
 vestige of its ancient renown remained. During the 
 siege of Boston, in the war of the Revolution, it was 
 discontinued altogether, but was resumed on the 
 deliverance of the town from the British. The offi- 
 cers of the American army celebrated their victory in 
 the First Church ; Washington came ; there was 
 " awful mirth." But the glory was of short con- 
 tinuance. The joy was rather civil tlian religious; 
 
THE FIRST CHURCH. 33 
 
 and the temple might have been closed for this 
 ceremony then. 
 
 In my youth the Thursday Lecture was but a 
 shade of the past. Ministers of the neighboring 
 towns came to Boston on that day because it was 
 convenient, and held a sort of exchange at a book- 
 store on Washington Street, greeting each other and 
 arranging for Sunday, as was the custom at that 
 period. They made the chief part of that small con- 
 gregation. The magistrates were not there. The 
 business men were not there. Fashion was not there. 
 A few ladies — mostly aged and in black, with smell- 
 ing-bottles — made a point of going, to keep up appear- 
 ances. The galleries were empty ; the pews were 
 thinly peopled. The music was of that extremely 
 simple kind which one expects from voluntary efforts : 
 — a son of the minister of the First Church played the 
 organ, and another son blew the bellows. The clamor 
 for the office of preacher was feeble on the part of 
 the brethren. The man whose turn it was regarded 
 himself in the light of a victim. The whole per- 
 formance was unreal. The ordinance flamed up for 
 an instant when Theodore Parker occupied the pul- 
 pit, but the excitement was for that occasion only. 
 In order to avoid any such demonstration in the 
 future, it was determined to exclude Mr. Parker, — 
 a process that should not have been necessary, as the 
 man certainly had no place in the First Church. 
 With this end in view it was, after much discussion 
 in the Boston Association, resolved that the minis- 
 
 3 
 
34 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 ter of the church should, as at first, take the ser- 
 vice into his owti hands, and invite whomever he 
 would to help him. This was, perhaps, the best 
 course that was open. It is true that this ancient 
 prerogative had been virtually surrendered a hun- 
 dred and sixty-five years before, but this was not 
 of public record. It seems that in 1679, less than 
 a generation after Mr. Cotton's death, which oc- 
 curred in 1652, there Avas passed " an order and 
 advice of y^ magistrates, yt all the elders of this 
 towne might jointly carry on the 5th day lecture." 
 This order was reluctantly accepted by the minis- 
 ters in office, as appears. " In answer to y^ Hon^''- 
 Magistrates about the Lecture ; Tho' as an injunc- 
 tion wee cannot concur with it, but doe humbly bare 
 our witness against it, as apprehending its tending to 
 y^ infringement of Church Libertie ; yet if the Lord 
 incline the hearts of the other Teaching officers of 
 this time to accept of y^ desire of our officers, to give 
 y® assistance with those of this church, who shall 
 be desired to carry on their fifth day lecture, wee 
 are willing to accept their help therein." From 
 that time, other ministers, as they were added to 
 the Congregational body, and were disposed, took 
 j)art in the exercises, and the original practice was 
 discontinued. 
 
 It would not be fair, however, to impute the new 
 departure wholly to a dislike of Mr. Parker. The 
 Standing Committee of the church complained of 
 the promiscuous crowd of people, the consequent 
 
THE FIRST CHURCH. 35 
 
 dirt, the injury done to furniture, and said tbey 
 could not heat the building, or ask the sexton to 
 clean it, for such performances. This protest fell 
 in with the desire to restore the ancient usa2:e. The 
 plan was pursued for some time, but the old position 
 was never recovered. It was generall}^ thought that 
 the new device was aimed at " rationalism " ; to be, in 
 its intent, exclusive, and this brought it into disrepute. 
 Mr. Parker, too, had numerous allies, who cried out 
 against what they called persecution. Then, it was 
 more difficult than ever, in the divided state of 
 opinion, to find men to fill the place. Still, the 
 plan, as I said, was persevered in. In Dr. Frothing- 
 ham's diary, under date of February 8, 1849, there 
 is this entiy :_ " Preached the Thursday Lecture in 
 course." Again (November 2d) : " Preached y^ Lec- 
 tui-e, Mr. Bobbins failing to appear." On Sunday, 
 March 10, 1850, his farewell sermon was delivered, and 
 the lecture lapsed for a time. Dr. Frothingham's suc- 
 cessor, Rev. Rufus Ellis, tried to revive it in 1858, 
 five years after his installation, and invited ministers 
 of all denominations, not Congregationalists alone, 
 but Episcopalians as well, Methodists, Orthodox of 
 different names. Among others, James Freeman 
 Clarke and J. L. Diman jH'eached. But this arrange- 
 ment did not last longer than three or four years. 
 Then the famous lecture, — which in the Old World 
 had started tlie Congregational idea, for Congrega- 
 tionalism seems to have grown out of this indepen- 
 dent, popular discourse, and in the New Woi'ld 
 
30 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 was closely associated A\T.tli the affairs of State 
 and society, — disappeared from vie^v. WLile the 
 edifice iu Chauncy Place was yet standing, it van- 
 ished. The house on Berkeley Street never knew it. 
 A history of the lecture down to 1833 was given in 
 a discourse entitled " The Shade of the Past," by 
 N. L. Frothingham. Its subsequent history may be 
 found in Mr. Arthur B. Ellis' excellent "History of 
 the First Church." 
 
 It should be added that no special preparation 
 for the lecture was ex]3ected. Ministers brought 
 sermons which they had on hand. The day was 
 simply a gospel day, an opportunity for spiritual 
 edification ; an hour of grace between the Sundays ; 
 a link in the chain of divine ministration ; an as- 
 sertion that there were no purely secular seasons, 
 that all days \vere the Lord's. 
 
rv, 
 
 THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 
 
 This is the place to give some account of the 
 dogmatical and ecclesiastical relations of the Uni- 
 tarians I am describing. My father, and with him 
 all his friends, was absorbed in the endeavor to 
 apply Christianity to personal character, taking men 
 and women one by one and trusting to their influence 
 for the regeneration of society. With the philosophy 
 of religion they had no concern. Christianity was 
 the established faith. They thought of no other. 
 And this, I repeat, was an institution, with roots in 
 history, and traditional beliefs, which might be modi- 
 fied but could not be abolished. Life was consumed 
 in services to individual souls, rendered in public 
 and in private. The diary has in it nothing but 
 records of prayers with the sick, visits of consolation 
 to the afflicted, ministrations of hope to the dying, 
 benedictions over the dead, words of admonition or 
 cheer for those entering upon the duties of existence. 
 There was great diligence in sermon wi'iting, between 
 thirty and forty sermons a year, sometimes more, 
 being prepared. There were journeys on evangel- 
 
 37 
 
38 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 izing work, errands in aid of a brother, exchanges 
 at a distance, baptizings, communions, counsellings. 
 
 The religion was essentially the old one, softened 
 by thought, knowledge, experience, feeling ; a faith 
 rather than a creed, a sentiment more than a dogma, 
 not sharp in outline, but full of emotion and charged 
 with conviction, slightly illogical perhaps, but firm, 
 — a religion of the heart. I shall give its main points 
 in the language of my father, than which none can 
 be more precise. This language is taken from dis- 
 courses preached in the regular course of ministry, 
 for there is no formal theological treatise. It was 
 not his way to write such, nor the way of his friends. 
 And if it is objected that the statements lack some- 
 thing of the exactness of definition that belongs to a 
 creed, it should be remembered that the words are 
 addressed to the spiritual nature, and aim rather to 
 awaken the sensibilities than to satisfy the under- 
 standing. In fact, the very theory was that the 
 religious sentiment was, not supreme only in im- 
 portance, but the most valid interpreter of faith. 
 The following is a just account of the position : 
 
 " Such is a brief statement of our leading doctrines. 
 We hold them as important. We embrace them as 
 precious. At the same time we openly declare that 
 we prefer a lovely disposition, and a virtuous purpose, 
 and a heart that is right before God and man, to any 
 mere speculative conclusions whatever." And again : 
 " But it will be said, and not without reason, that 
 this effect \\ ill hardly be produced at all, unless there 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 39 
 
 are some positive doctrines, however faintly recog- 
 nized, to vi^hich it stands in relation. There must be 
 something underneath, on vrhich conviction is built, 
 if we would maintain it for any rational sup23ort. 
 Even though we are not aware of it, it must be there 
 in the substance of some divine truth. We admit 
 that this is to some extent so, and yet we should not 
 lose sight of the fact that faith is more of a sentiment 
 than of a rigid rule. It is a child of the affections. 
 While on one side it deals with arguments and evi- 
 dence, and arrays itself in texts and formularies, 
 appearing, like the wise son of David, clad 'in all 
 his glory'; on the other hand, it unfolds itself in the 
 responsibilities of a well-ordered nature, a spon- 
 taneous ' lily of the field,' more glorious still. And 
 we are not apt to do Justice enough to this unarti* 
 ficial growth. We are too fond of speculating and 
 disputing and drawing lines of theological demarka- 
 tion, instead of repairing to the great elements of 
 religion and humanity, and considering that the same 
 tranquil assurance may exist on both sides of any 
 line that you can draw." 
 
 Here is his most positive assertion of the claims 
 of credence, and his hardest speech against those 
 who rejected Christianity as a form of belief. 
 It is fi'om the four discourses, " Deism or Chris- 
 tianity," preached in 1845 against the opinions 
 ascribed to Theodore Parker: 
 
 " The denomination to which we belong took its 
 orio-in in resistance to confessions that it could not 
 
40 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 subscribe, and a dictation to which it would not 
 submit. The evils of ecclesiastical positiveness and 
 tyranny have so marked themselves upon the church 
 that every thing which reminded of them became 
 odious. Liberal religion had to employ its energy 
 for a long time in that direction mainly, and seemed 
 to take the attitude rather of vindicating its free- 
 dom and protesting against what was false, than of 
 insisting on what was vitally true. Hence occasion 
 has been taken to say that we cannot, consistently with 
 our own principles, draw any lines of demarkation. 
 All this is indiscreetly spoken, whether by those 
 who are without our body or those who are within 
 it. . . . But why so ? By rejecting the precepts 
 of our neighbors we do not resign all precepts for 
 ourselves. ... If any complain of restraints on 
 religious liberty, it will be well for them to remem- 
 ber that there are religious obligations also. This 
 liberty is in no danger where we are, though many 
 swelling vanities are uttered, and some artifices 
 are practised, under that pretence. And if it is 
 really so great a good let us have a portion of it too^ 
 as well as others. Surely there is a liberty of en- 
 closure, as well as of spread. We may claim to be 
 by ourselves so it be with a due consideration for 
 those who differ from us. There is no harm in a 
 simple wall of separation, and we neither commit 
 persecution nor inflict martyrdom if we make it high 
 enough to be seen from some distance. Men may 
 call it exclusiveness, if they will. But every one 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 41 
 
 that lias a house over liis head is in a sense exclusive. 
 He does not build that he may live out-of-doors, 
 nor could he well call it a house if it took in all that 
 is abroad. 
 
 "Let us have a belief, therefore. How can we- 
 otherwise have any portion in the believer's rest or 
 hope ? Let us have a creed also. For how else can 
 Ave tell or know what we believe ? Only let it be 
 held with humility, and seriousness, and charity. 
 We need not ask too curiously how much there 
 is of it, nor of what precise kind it is. We will not 
 ask this of others at all, for it is their concern and 
 not ours. But if their doctrine Jostle or attack us, 
 it may impose upon us an obligation to keep it 
 aloof from our fellowship, and to give to the world 
 a reason for the different faith that we are attached 
 to. . . . One thing at least is as clear as the light, 
 that the Grospel can be of service only so far as it is 
 accredited. If it have no sanction for us, it has no 
 comforting trust for us." 
 
 The creed itself would not have satisfied a severely 
 critical mind. It would not have contented Abelard, 
 though it might have pleased Emerson. It was 
 rather rhetorical than dialectical. It would hardly 
 have inspired St. Francis d'Assisi or Martin Luther. 
 It was not calculated to form heroic virtues, — cour- 
 age, boldness, fortitude, consecration, self-surrender, 
 sacrifice, passionate enthusiasm, devotion to a cause 
 deemed righteous, but it was relied on to foster 
 the gentler qualities of trust, hope, patience, grati- 
 
4- BOSTON UNITAKIANISM. 
 
 tude, submission, the love that casts out fear. As I 
 said, the building up of personal character in cour- 
 tesy, generosity, diligence, was the object, not the 
 formation of correct opinions. " The rule over our 
 own growth in temperance, sweetness, patience, can- 
 not well be dispensed with." 
 
 In presenting the scheme of belief, I certainly do 
 not defend it or its aims. It is my opinion that both 
 are inadequate to explain the facts. My wish is 
 simply to make it clear, and so do it justice. This 
 summary, it may be added, is taken from a printed 
 sermon, entitled " The Believer's Rest," preached in 
 1843, and privately circulated. 
 
 " And first, we believe in a paternal Sovereign of 
 the world and of man. A Father as well as a King 
 is upon the throne of the universe. Not by a blind 
 chance, not by a stern fate, not by an arbitrary rule, 
 is the destiny of things decreed, but by an unseen 
 intelligence and a primeval love. Do you want any 
 different doctrine as respects this inexpressible Be- 
 ing? Or do you think that you would gain any 
 thing in clearness or justness of apprehension, or in 
 piety of heart, by listening to metaphysical subtle- 
 ties concerning His essence, or presumptuous famili- 
 arities about His counsels, or circumscriptions of His 
 immeasurable attributes ? Above all, do you think 
 that you would gain any thing in that true rever- 
 ence which awes, but does not j^erturb the soul ; in 
 that true love which raises us above a superstitious 
 servility ; in that true quietness which belongs to 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 43 
 
 the mind that is stayed upon Him ; by clouding the 
 light of His countenance with vulgar terrors, and 
 divesting Him of that gracious look by vs^hich alone 
 we can recognize the Father of Spirits ? 
 
 " Again, we believe in His Son Jesus Christ, well- 
 beloved, and the manifestation of His love to the 
 world. To us, ' There is but one God, and one 
 Mediator between Grod and men, the man Christ ' 
 Jesus.' So the apostle declares, and we cannot con- 
 ceive of language being framed more explicit than 
 this. We believe in Him as revealing a perfect 
 duty and an anchor of hope, establishing with au- 
 thority the truth that it is most important for men to 
 receive, and breathing the full spirit by which the 
 world is to be renovated, dying for our sins accord- 
 ing to the Scriptures, and rising again the third day 
 according to the Scriptures. We believe, in Him, 
 the divine word and wisdom, the way and the life. 
 In all the offices that He bears towards our poor 
 mortality ; in the grandeur of His mission, the fruits 
 of His sufferings, the victory of His death ; in the 
 example He set, in the laws He sanctified, in the 
 immortal promises He spread ; we steadily preach 
 Him who was sent. 
 
 " We believe in the Spirit of the Lord, breathing 
 wherever He wills, like the vital air that nourishes 
 the creation ; informing, comforting, vivifying ; plead- 
 ing vtdth the conscience, purifying the affections ; 
 changing the carnal heart. We are no materialists ; 
 we do not profess to solve all mysteries with our 
 
44 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 logic. We do not presume to reject any word from 
 on high, because it is mysterious. We do not think 
 to confine within what some are fond of appealing to 
 as ' natural laws,' the agency and grace of God. We 
 hold to a faith transcending sight and absolute 
 knowledge. We depend upon the spirit of a heav- 
 enly instruction and benediction. Can you approach 
 any nearer to it by calling it a person instead of an 
 influence ? or by engaging in any technical refine- 
 ments as to the modes of its operation ? 
 
 " AVe believe in the Scriptures, as a holy testi- 
 mony ; a record of the Divine dispensations for the 
 education and redemption of the human race ; the 
 great rule of faith and practice. We reverence their 
 precepts, their narratives, their various utterances of 
 knowledge and praise, and we do not revere them 
 the less for reading them by the light of our own 
 understandings and the aids of studious men, and 
 interpreting them as our best judgment directs. AVe 
 do not pretend to set forth any other gospel, or 
 to look for any other deliverer, than the one there 
 revealed." 
 
 In regard to human nature, a subject which was, 
 at that time, agitating the Unitarian mind, the same 
 authority enunciates the following : 
 
 " The present era seems to be that of the apothe- 
 osis of human nature. Human nature is exalted 
 into the '■ heavenly places ' to acknowledge nothing 
 above its own height. Man, who started into his 
 first deviation from the truth by the worship of the 
 
THE DOGMA TICAL POSITION. 45 
 
 surrounding universe, appears approacliing, as his 
 last delusion, to tlie worship of himself. Ah, poor 
 worm! . . . Does he go almost as far, with his 
 spiritual fancies, to cloud over the idea of ' the God 
 and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,' as the materi- 
 alist with his doctrine that grovels the lowest ? If 
 he does, how much has he gained by casting down 
 the graceful image that at least represented some- 
 thing divine, though it might have been modelled but 
 out of clay ? . . . Give me back the simple form of a 
 child's credulity, rather than mislead me into any 
 philosophical refinement, that instructs me to pre- 
 sume, and leaves me to perish." 
 
 This is like Wordsworth's sentiment : 
 
 ' ' Great God ! I 'd rather be 
 
 A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; 
 So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 
 
 Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; 
 Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, 
 Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn." 
 
 The same sentiment but not the same idea. Here 
 was no thought of returning to paganism, or of 
 going outside of doctrinal Christianity. Expressions 
 of this are frequent. Here is one. In the introduc- 
 tion to a translation of the first of the Elegies of 
 Propertius, a wi'iter in the Augustan Age of Roman 
 poetry, Mr. Frothingham says : 
 
 " The last, which is, indeed, the leading, reason " 
 [for presenting the version] " is the opportunity that 
 it gives of comparing some of the purest sentiments 
 of classical antiquity respecting the state of the dead, 
 
46 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 with those of the simplest minds that have the 
 advantage of Christian education." 
 
 There was not then, as there is now, a disposition 
 to construe favorably the language of the older reli- 
 p^ions. There might have been as much real knowl- 
 edge, but it was still the fashion to look askance at 
 other systems of faith — to call Mahomet an impostor, 
 for instance — and to treat their nobler sentiments as 
 shadowy, mere surmises, and of the fine minds too, 
 vague hopes at the best, bright anticipations of 
 certain illumined intelligences. As we know, the 
 will to see often makes sight, and the will to see had 
 not come to those men ; The Dial^ organ of the most 
 advanced speculation, just venturing, in a tentative 
 way, in its extracts from " ethnic scriptures," to 
 depart from the accepted tradition. This example 
 was not calculated to encourage these Unitarians to 
 leave the beaten track. The Transcendentalists were 
 their aversion. In natural religion they placed no 
 confidence. It gave adumbrations, hopes, impres- 
 sions, but no satisfactory evidence. " There is a 
 conviction of right and wrong in the breast, but it 
 has no tongue. Not the slightest whispers go round 
 among the crowded thoughts of the heart. . . . All 
 that we receive from these sources is the inference 
 which we ourselves draw from what we see and ex- 
 perience. We know how dubious this will often be. 
 But the revealed Gospel exhibits clear objects to our 
 faith and affections. It speaks out, and its speech is^ 
 with authority." 
 
THE DOGMA TICAL POSITION. 4/ 
 
 The dependence was on miracle. " Is there one 
 here," said Mr. Frothingham, in a sermon on the 
 " Manifestation of Christ," " who thinks he requires 
 no miraculous evidence in support of his religious 
 convictions, who feels satisfied with the proofs that 
 the unaided mind can furnish for itself ? I will not 
 assail him, I will not charge him mth throwing 
 away all faith, because he is willing to receive it on 
 slighter grounds than we trust it is built on. I will 
 congratulate him that he feels his hope to be so sure. 
 . . . But let us profess for ourselves, that we needed 
 something more and have found it. We will own 
 that we love to trace our faith further than to 
 the self-taught dictates of a refined intellect and an ' 
 elevated heart ; even to the Fountain of Inspiration." 
 
 The ecclesiastical relations were very simple in- 
 deed. Under Congregationalism each church was a 
 law to itself in forms of administration. It might 
 even, in case there was no regular minister, choose a 
 man from among its church members to serve as 
 " teacher." Of course such a person was not recog- 
 nized as a preacher by any other society. There was 
 fellowship among the congregations, — communion, 
 comity, consociation, sympathy, but no absolute alle- 
 giance. Councils might advise, recommend, lend their 
 practical wisdom, but they could not dictate. They 
 had no authority. There was no constraining organ- 
 ization as there was among Episcopalians or Presby- 
 terians. The right of each congregation over its own 
 individual members was disputed, as appears from 
 
48 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 the withdrawal that originated the 3d of October.' 
 In 1811 there were twenty-two places of public 
 worship in the town. In my youth there was only 
 one Roman Catholic Church in Boston, the Cathe- 
 dral of the Holy Cross, on Franklin Street, and there 
 were not more than two priests there. Romanism 
 had no hold on the influential people. It was not 
 even dreaded, as is evidenced by the fact that leading 
 \i Protestants were the first and largest givers to the faith 
 whose spread they could not anticipate. Episcopacy 
 was fashionable, but feeble. "When my father was or- 
 dained, in 1815, there were but two establishments 
 in the city — Christ Church and Trinity, — at opposite 
 ends of the town ; the one by Copp's Hill, the other 
 in Summer Street. King's Chapel was Unitarian. 
 St. Paul's parish was formed, chiefly from Trinity, 
 in 1819. Traditions of Congregationalism were not 
 only supreme but were taken to be everlastingly 
 rooted in the genius of New England. The original 
 Puritan commonwealth, simply adjusted to modern 
 conditions, — retained, but shaded off, — was quietly 
 accepted, and such departures as "independent" 
 churches — churches independent of all denomina- 
 tional conventions, as well as of doctrinal pre-suppo- 
 sitions — were unheard of. The ancient principle of 
 building up individual character on the Gospel basis 
 was persisted in, and the method was that of indus- 
 triously preaching the " Word." 
 
 It must be confessed that there was not much 
 
 > See H. A. Hill's " History of the Old South," vol. L., 175, 332, 365. 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 49 
 
 inoral earnestness, as that term is usually appre- 
 hended, amono; these men. There was no " enthusi- 
 asm of humanity." This was hardly heard of then. 
 Humanity was to be regenerated by supernatural 
 means, not believed in or trusted. The arrangements 
 of the world, including poverty, misery, crime, op- 
 pression, wrong, were of providential appointment, 
 and were to be abolished by the slow operation of 
 spiritual influences proceeding from personal virtue. 
 The elect of the churches were thus the centres of 
 power, and efforts were confined to the effectual use 
 of the " means of grace." This may help to explain 
 the circumstance that these men, so humane, so com- 
 passionate, so kindly, so conscientious, so tender- 
 hearted, so generous, were no more interested in the 
 organizations against slavery, intemperance, the disa- 
 bilities of working men and women, bad legislation, 
 evil customs. A sense of turpitude was entirely 
 consistent with an apparent aj^athy which was born 
 of a patient waiting on Providence, and a diligent 
 employment of its prescribed remedies. Even Dr. 
 Channing's society refused to open the meeting- 
 house for a eulogy on Dr. Follen, to be delivered by 
 his friend S. J. May, the Abolitionist ; and it has 
 been asserted on authority that his congregation 
 deserted him in the later years of his life on account 
 of his anti-slavery views.' Dr. Channing himself 
 sadly owned that the Unitarians, as a sect, were 
 
 ' See " Diary of J. Q. Adams," and also the Unilariaii Rc^ncwlor KwgM^X, 
 1881, p. 151. 
 4 
 
50 BOSTON UNITARIANJSM. 
 
 indifferent to the question of slavery, and when Lis 
 meetini2:-liouse was refused to the euloo-ist of Charles 
 Follen, doubted the efficiency of his ministry, and 
 was disposed to think that he had poured out his 
 soul in vain, if this was the result of his endeavors. 
 No, the society did not go mth him in any of his 
 projects of reform. This may have been owing to 
 " conservatism " ; or to a sense of social superiority, 
 an unwillingness to mingle with ordinary men and 
 women ; or to indifference to the subject ; or to a want 
 of human feeling ; or to timidity, as it required some 
 courage to befriend an unpopular cause. But it 
 might have been due, in part at all events, to a con- 
 viction that kindness, charity, good-will were^ per- 
 sonal qualities entirely ; that gentleness, sweetness, 
 peacefulness, serenity were most desirable Christian 
 virtues ; that the office of the minister of religion 
 was to create these graces of the private heart and 
 to avoid matters that would raise up discord. This 
 persuasion was certainly very strong, so strong that 
 a leading Unitarian minister, an eminent, distin- 
 guished, and authoritative man, whose name carried 
 universal influence, — I am speaking of James Walker, 
 — Avould not, it was said, vote^ lest he should be 
 associated in the public mind with political opinions. 
 He was a clergyman, and as such pledged to the 
 single duty of educating people in character. As an 
 illustration of this sentiment I ma}^ cite the words of 
 another well-known, able, most excellent minister in 
 the neighborhood of Boston. Speaking of the Abo- 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 51 
 
 litionists he said : " These men have brutalized the 
 spirit of the commuiiity." Brutalized the spirit, — 
 the spirit of peacefulness, of urbanity, of quietude, 
 of pious acquiescence. This man was a gentleman 
 of the old-fashioned Christian stamp, courteous, 
 kind, a genuine lover of souls, good to the poor, 
 generous, an example of the best preaching of the 
 day ; his sole deficiency being a want of that " en- 
 thusiasm of humanity " which is characteristic of the 
 present generation. If we could have followed Dr. 
 Channing's parishioners to their homes, we should 
 probably have found them amiable in every domestic 
 virtue, pure, temperate, humble, charitable in Judg- 
 ment, generous in alms-giving, benevolent and be- 
 neficent to their dependants, living under a strict 
 allegiance to the "great task-master." There was a 
 perception and a vivid one, though not a controlling 
 one, of the iniquity of war and slavery, but the faith 
 was that these evils must disappear in time before 
 the spread of Christian charity. The following 
 passage from a sermon preached in 1828 by F. W. 
 P. Grreenwood, makes both of these points clear : 
 
 Let it not be said that there is no express precept in the 
 Christian code against slavery or against war. There is more 
 than an express precept against them ; there is its whole spirit 
 and purpose, its whole temper and influence. Show me a man 
 who, in the spirit of Christianity and with the authority of its 
 founder, can drag an unoffending fellow-creature from his 
 country and kindred and make him his slave ; or a man who, 
 in the spirit of Christianity and with the authority of its 
 founder, can march humbly, meekly, and forgivingly to seek 
 
52 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 the life of his brother man in red battle, and I will grant that 
 in these particulars I have overrated the influence of my religion, 
 and that we must go to philosophy and reason alone for argu- 
 ments and principles on the subjects of slavery and war. 
 
 It is understood that all these men were conser- 
 vatives ; but they were not conservative in the 
 sense of wishing that the world would stop where 
 it was, or that what existed was good enough. 
 They believed in conscience ; but it was their 
 conviction that institutions embodied the moral 
 sense of the race thus far, and that any further 
 progress must be made gradually by the increase 
 and spread of Just ideas, not by sudden or violent 
 convulsion. And if they had more regard for the 
 actually organized moral sense than they had for its 
 ideal possibilities in individual breasts, they are not 
 to be accused of indifference to social advance ; or if 
 they made too little allowance for the power of 
 heredity, education, surroundings, and were there- 
 fore disposed to be austere in judgment, it should 
 not be forgotten that the science of sociology had 
 not been discovered ; or if, again, they found hu- 
 manity so mixed up with other less reputable pas- 
 sions, like arrogance, self-assertion, conceit, as to 
 be inseparable from them, it must be remembered 
 that they had great fear of these low motives and 
 aimed to repress them. On this point, again, Mr. 
 Frothingham must be the spokesman of his order. 
 Meeting a friend one morning in Leverett Street, 
 near the prison, on the day fixed for the execution of 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 53 
 
 a murderer, he expressed more gratification that the 
 law was to be vindicated, and the safety of good 
 citizens secured, than pity for the criminal ; and 
 when a noted philanthropist, called " The Prisoner's 
 Friend," asked his attention to his chosen charity, he 
 replied, taking out his pocket-book, " I will give you 
 something, for evidently you need it, but I have no 
 faith in your cause ; my preference is for people who 
 don't get into Jail." In a sermon entitled " The 
 Ruffian Released," preached in 1836, he said : 
 
 " I am at a loss to account for it, — I scarcely know 
 on what principle of human nature it is to be ex- 
 plained, — this sympathy of well-meaning persons 
 with those who have outraged every feeling of 
 humanity by their savage force or their cold-hearted 
 depravity. I can understand how the Je^vish popu- 
 lace in an excited hour should demand the liberation 
 of Barabbas ; I can almost enter into the feelings of 
 those who, in a season of great depression, should 
 empty every convict's cell, saying, let us supplicate 
 the holy and frowning heavens together, for we are 
 all transgressors alike. But, in a state of society 
 like our own, with institutions so free from abuse and 
 so full of mercifulness, it is hard to comprehend why 
 there should be such a feverish sensibility in favor 
 of the abandoned, and so intense a wish for some- 
 thing better than the laws." Then follows a serious 
 attempt to get at the secret of this kind of compas- 
 sion, an attempt that is really touching in its earnest- 
 ness and simplicity. 
 
54 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 It would be a mistake to suppose that these men 
 expected any supernatural interposition in behalf of 
 equity or good-will ; any " legion of angels," any 
 coming of the Christ in clouds or in glory ; that they 
 were luxurious idlers, lying supinely on their oars. 
 They worked ; they worked hard. Their sermons 
 were written with pains ; their prayers were earnest ; 
 their visits of exhortation and condolence were con- 
 stant and faithful ; they practised self-denial every 
 day ; they felt meekly and continually the responsi- 
 bilities of their calling as servants of religion. It 
 was their deliberately adopted theory that the 
 Church was of divine appointment ; that all heav- 
 enly power was conveyed by it ; that moral influence 
 was imparted through its forms of doctrine and of 
 rite ; and, accepting their place in its administration, 
 they, as Unitarian Christians, Avere answerable for 
 their fidelity. They considered themselves as set 
 for the defence of the Gospel, as they understood it, 
 and were bound in honor to transmit it unimpaired. 
 That there was an absence of the democratic temper 
 is freely allowed, is claimed even. That temper, if 
 manifest at all, which may be questioned, presented 
 itself fully and in unattractive guise as revolution- 
 ary, disturbing, quarrelsome. Peace was essential to 
 their philosophy. Their whole theory of life and 
 influence and progress demanded conservatism. The 
 stream might be rapid, but must be noiseless, in its 
 flow. The Son of Man does not strive or cry, nor 
 lift up his voice in the streets. I have a distinct 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 55 
 
 recollection of Dr. Frothingham's discontent witli 
 the philosophy of " Les Miserables," Victor Hugo's 
 famous novel, then just published. It seemed to \ 
 imply that a change of outward conditions would j 
 effect a change of character ; that the social arrange- ; 
 ment was radically wrong ; that the " paralysis of 
 the person " was contingent on " the narrowness of 
 the lot." And this ran counter to all his beliefs, — 
 was, in truth, the exact reversal of them. 
 
 This was the real objection to Theodore Parker, 
 that he made war against the tradition and pried up 
 the foundations of authority as the Church had laid 
 them, — the Church of Socinus as well as the Church 
 of Calvin or Leo. If Parker could simply have | 
 shifted the basis of authority from the Bible to j 
 the Soul, without disturbing the traditions of faith, 
 there might have been no contest in spite of his ' 
 biting sarcasms. But he discredited all the external 
 proofs of revelation. 
 
 It was a great deal simpler for the Unitarians to 
 accept the " sensational philosophy," as it was called. 
 They had been brought up in it. It was established, 
 the doctrine of the best teachers and the highest 
 eminence. It lent itself most readily to their con- 
 ceptions of religion, to their ideas of God and his 
 relations to the world. And it was supported by 
 the ablest writers of the time in their own com- 
 munion. The great name of Andrews Norton, that 
 competent and conscientious and fearless scholar, 
 was on their side. In his discourse on " The Latest 
 Form of Infidelity," he said : 
 
56 BOSTON UNITAKIANISM. 
 
 Of the facts on which religion is founded we can pretend to 
 no assurance, except that derived from the testimony of God, 
 from the Christian revelation. He who has received this 
 testimony is a Christian ; and we may ask now, as was asked 
 by an apostle : " Who is he that overcometh the world, but he 
 that believes that Jesus is the Son of God ? " 
 
 James Martineau, too, in the " Rationale of Reli- 
 gious Enquiry," the third edition of which was 
 published in 1845, expressed himself in the same 
 strain : 
 
 Nor is there any intelligible sense in which one who thinks 
 that the preternatural may be banished from the birth and 
 infancy of our faith, can continue to take the name of Chris- 
 tian. . . . They are exposed to just animadversion, for 
 having professed, by convulsive efforts of interpretation, to 
 compress the memories of Christ and his Apostles into the 
 dimensions of ordinary life, rather than admit the operation of 
 miracle on the one hand, or aver their abandonment of Chris- 
 tianity on the other. (P. 72.) 
 
 Again : 
 
 Revealed religion comprises the ideas of God derived from 
 the Bible, considered as the record of a Supernatural Provi- 
 dence. It is the name for the notions and feelings suggested 
 by a line of Hebrew history, from the patriarchal age to the 
 death of the last Apostle. (P. 77.) 
 
 This is an exact statement of the position I am 
 attempting to portray, as a chronicler of the period. 
 The Intuitive Philosophy, as it was called, resting 
 the orio;in of relio-ious ideas on the native beliefs of 
 the human reason, necessarily made light of outward 
 evidences, — prophecy, miracle, authenticity of the 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 57 
 
 Scriptures, narrative, mission, and saying of Jesus. 
 When fairly apprehended, as by Emerson, for in- 
 stance, these simply disappeared as silently as the 
 bark fell away from a growing tree. Sometimes 
 they were set aside, as by George Ripley, who chose 
 another, more secular, calling. But in Parker's case 
 there was the loud report of protest, coupled with 
 the sting of an exasperating verbal logic. He was 
 constitutionally unable to appreciate the traditional 
 point of view. He was literal, direct, simple. There 
 was no interval between his private thought and his 
 public speech. He visited, in Tubingen, Dr. F. C. 
 Baur, the founder of the famous school, the man 
 who wrote the terrible articles in the Jahrhucher, 
 aiming to show that the New Testament writings 
 were not historical but doctrinal compositions, hav- 
 ing a controversial tendency, and was surprised to 
 find him preaching in a regular Lutheran pulpit. 
 Baur, on his part, expressed amazement that Parker 
 should proclaim his critical opinions on religion. They 
 were conclusions of the study ; surmises of scholar- 
 ship ; matters of literary concern ; private specula- 
 tions, not suitable for edification ; questions for 
 learning to decide, not for faith or feeling. But 
 Parker could not understand this distinction. 
 
 He found fault with the chairman of a meeting of 
 the Boston Association because he, a doctor of 
 divinity, and a public teacher of Christianity, did, at 
 the same time, in conversation declare that Strauss, 
 if he had made a small, popular book, must have 
 
 \^ 
 
58 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 about put an end to historical Christianity ; that the 
 conflicting accounts in the four Grospels could not be 
 reconciled ; that one might have the moral spirit of 
 Christianity and be a Christian man, while discard- 
 ing the Christian beliefs ; that prophecies might be 
 true in intention though indefensible in form. Par- 
 ker thought him a hypocrite, a time-server, a deceiver 
 of the people, an empty babbler, dishonest and hol- 
 low. But this man did not pin his faith to histori- 
 cal, only to instituted, Christianity ; the stories in the 
 four Gospels might be reconciled as parables though 
 inconsistent as narratives ; one might be a Christian 
 man, at least for a time, though not a Christian be- 
 liever. C. A. Bartol, Parker's classmate, one who 
 knew him well and loved him, in a sermon, preached 
 after his' death, touched this point nicely when he 
 said : 
 
 In all sincerity he chose his career, but he had not faculty 
 to penetrate the purpose or appraise the contents of a religious 
 tradition. He understood not, in its Christian application, the 
 solidarity of a common sentiment or the continuous and indis- 
 soluble unity of the human soul. He could do nothing with 
 enduring institutions and operative principles in the life of 
 mankind but analyze them and reduce them to ashes in the 
 crucible of a speculative brain. He had no imagination, sim- 
 ple reverence, and holy wonder to admit marvels at which, on 
 the road of investigation, the scientific understanding balks, 
 but which are welcome to the higher reason in every artist and 
 true spiritualist, to poet and painter and genius of all sorts, 
 treading on the mysterious border, none ever measured, of the 
 unseen world. 
 
 I must afifirm the position a false one ; however the man 
 was true. 
 
■J HE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 59 
 
 It is needless to say that this implies an intellec- 
 tual limitation merely, and that in a single direction 
 only. Mr, Parker's other mental qualities were as 
 remarkable as his moral qualities were, and they 
 must have been extraordinary indeed to have ex- 
 torted as they did such warm expressions of regard 
 and affection from his adversaries. Even the provo- 
 cations of his manner could not alienate his oppo- 
 nents. The sharpest criticism ended in words of 
 personal love. 
 
 It was probably this dread of a disorganizing ten- 
 dency that alienated the first minds in the Unitarian ; 
 body from transcendentalism, even when it was repre- ! 
 sented by so persuasive and lofty a spirit as that of ( 
 Emerson. Not a syllable in dispraise of him was 
 ever uttered in my hearing. His faith, his aspira- 
 tion, his sweetness, his humility, his enthusiasm of 
 spirituality, his catholicity of sentiment, his sincere 
 demand that others should be true to themselves, his 
 utter refusal to impose his individuality upon others, 
 was admitted ; but his philosophy, it was feared, 
 encouraged conceit, pretension, self-assertion, and led 
 to disintegration. He himself knew this, felt it, and 
 tried to correct the tendency. His appreciation of 
 mental sincerity was absolute. He cordially invited 
 my father to the meeting at his house in Concord 
 which resulted in the "Transcendental Club," and 
 the offishness of the latter, who distrusted the move- 
 ment, did not chill his regard, as the following entry 
 in his '' Journal " shows : 
 
6o BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 August, 1857. 
 I had a letter from Dr. Frothingham to-day. The sight 
 of that man's handwriting is Parnassian. Nothing vulgar is 
 connected with his name, but on the contrary every remem- 
 brance of wit and learning and contempt of cant. In our 
 Olympic games we love his fame. But that fame was bought 
 by many years of steady rejection of all that is popular with 
 our society, and a persevering study of books which none else 
 reads, and which he can convert to no temporary purpose. 
 There is a scholar doing a scholar's office. 
 
 About the same time Thomas Carlyle wrote a 
 letter to Mr. Emerson containing the following pas- 
 sage, which Mr. Emerson sent to my father : 
 
 By the bye, speaking of dull publics, I ought to say that I 
 have seen a Review of myself in the Christian Examiner (I 
 think that is it, of Boston); the author of which, if you know 
 him, I desire you to thank on my part. For if a dull million 
 is good, then withal a seeing unit or two is also good. This 
 man images forth a beautiful idealized clothes philosopher, 
 very satisfactory to look upon ; in whose beatified features I 
 did verily detect more similitude to what I myself meant to be 
 than in any or all the other criticisms I have yet seen written 
 of me ; that a man see himself reflected from the soul of his 
 brother man in this brotherly improved way is one of the most 
 legitimate joys of existence. 
 
 Reference is here made to an article on " Sartor 
 Resartus " in the Chidstian Examiner for September, 
 1836, by K L. Frothingham. Both tribute and 
 review are the more remarkable that Mr. Frothing- 
 ham was not an admirer of Mr. Carlyle's later ideas 
 in politics, philosophy, or religion ; but he had a real 
 
THE DOGMA TICAL POSITION. 6l 
 
 enthusiasm for eloquent language, and a love of 
 fresh, wild, independent speculation ; and when the 
 purely literary taste could act freely, untrammelled 
 by dogmatic considerations, as was not always the 
 case, he w^as exceedingly generous. 
 
 In order to make the ecclesiastical position per- 
 fectly intelligible, it is necessary to say something 
 about James Freeman Clarke's scheme for a free 
 society. In his early years Mr. Clarke glorified the 
 West, spoke disrespectfully, to put the case mildly, 
 of New England Unitarianism, and criticised rather 
 roughly some of its leading men. On his return 
 from Louisville in May, 1840, a return to the East 
 which was severely commented on in Boston, he 
 established there, in 1841, the " Church of the Disci- 
 ples," an organization that embodied three principles : 
 " a free church ; a social church ; and a church in 
 which the members, as well as the pastor, should 
 take part." None of these ideas were popular in 
 New England, in fact they were against all its habits 
 and especially repugnant to the Unitarians I am 
 concerned with, as well on the score of its voluntar}- - 
 ism and its sociability as on the ground of its 
 democracy. It is not surprising, therefore, that the 
 venture should be looked at askance ; that in view of 
 his encroachment on old-established relations, Mr. 
 Clarke should be charged with displaying " a pirati- 
 cal flag " ; that, coming back from the installation in 
 Freeman Place Chapel, in March, 1848, my father, 
 one of the aggrieved ones, should have remarked that 
 
62 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 " David's soul did not rejoice that day." Mr. Clarke's 
 devotion to intellectual liberty, as evidenced by his 
 exchange v^ith Theodore Parker in 1845, as a devout, 
 honest Christian man who w^as entitled to fellovs^ship, 
 did not tend to increase the regard in his favor, not- 
 withstanding his friendly disposition, his warm- 
 heartedness, his benevolence, his determination to 
 take no offence, his official consecration to duty, his 
 orthodoxy of opinion, his allegiance to the Christian 
 creed. The smallest concession to the secular spirit 
 \ was resented. Christianity was not, in Unitarian 
 view, a moral, but also a doctrinal system, and any 
 attempt to weaken that, as Mr. Clarke's plan did, as 
 much as Mr. Parker's, though in a different way, was 
 subversive of the Church as an institution resting on 
 authority, and implying the imbecility of man. 
 There was no social intimacy in Unitarian churches, 
 for the simple reason that the people were present 
 as 7'ecipients, not as bestower^ of faith, the very 
 " church members " being regarded as those who 
 aspired, rather than as those who had attained. The 
 " congregation " was simply a " distant fold," to be 
 cared for by the shepherd, whose " drowsy tinklings " 
 often " lulled " them, but who had better sleep than 
 be absent. 
 
 It should be borne in mind that the social feeling 
 with which we are familiar, which prevails in our 
 Unitarian and in many other churches, was then a 
 complete novelty. There was no social intercourse 
 between members of the same religious society. 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 63 
 
 'There were no parlors or kitchens or gathering 
 rooms in church buildings. In the structure on 
 Chauncy Place the Sunday-school occupied a room 
 in the cellar where hogsheads of tobacco were stored. 
 The preaching of the " Word " was the great thing, 
 and this was for adult minds that had no other con- 
 cern than for spiritual matters. As for the remaining 
 principles of Mr. Clarke, — the free seats instead of 
 owned or rented pews, and the participation of the 
 laity in the administration of religion, — they never 
 struck root into the soil of New England. Com- 
 plaint was made that under the voluntary system the 
 burden of expense fell on the few ; and it is not easy 
 to see how a clerical order can be maintained if 
 laymen are expected to take part in the services 
 of the Church. It is but fair to presume that these 
 dangers were foreseen, that an honest desire to pre- 
 serve the integrity of the existing state of things 
 was, in the main, influential in deciding the action of 
 the ministers. Merely personal considerations could 
 not have controlled them ; for no characters could 
 have been more engaging than those of Theodore 
 Parker, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and James Freeman 
 Clarke. 
 
 In a brick building on Berry Street, used as a 
 vestry by the Federal Street Church, Dr. Channing 
 instituted, in the spring of 1820, the BeiTy Street 
 Conference of Ministers, and delivered the first ad- 
 dress on the point, " How Far is Reason to be Used 
 in Explaining Revelation ? " In this essay, which ex- 
 
64 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 hibitecl the moral issue between the Liberals and 
 the Orthodox, he affirmed the primitive elements of 
 all knowledge, the conception of goodness, and the 
 conditions of truth. This, the earliest Unitarian 
 organization, is still extant, and is, as at first, an oc- 
 casion for considering the needs and prospects of the 
 Unitarian faith. There is a " Concio ad clerum," 
 followed by a discussion of a very frank description. 
 The meetings were quite private ; they were not 
 advertised ; no reporter was present ; few, almost 
 none beside ministers attended, as the questions 
 raised were not supposed to interest others. It was 
 never known what was to be said; consequently 
 there was no general curiosity. The matters pre- 
 sented concerned the denomination, and the discus- 
 sions turned on subjects of religious belief and 
 parochial conduct. The introduction of the slavery 
 issue by John Pierpont, and, later, of rationalistic 
 criticism by Theodore Parker, interrupted the placid 
 monotony of the exercises ; but these episodes being 
 ended, the same quiet flow went on, the steady 
 progress of the sect in " Liberalism " affording suffi- 
 cient excitement to keep minds alert. 
 
 The American Unitarian Association was formed 
 in 1825. This, too, was the result of an invitation 
 sent to ministers and laymen to meet in Dr. Chan- 
 ning's vestry for the purpose of conferring together 
 " on the expediency of appointing an annual meeting 
 for the purpose of union, sympathy, and co-operation 
 in the cause of Christian truth and Christian charity." 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 65 
 
 Men like Henry Ware, Jr., James Walker, Samuel 
 Barrett, Lewis Tappan, and Ezra Stiles Gannett were 
 on the executive committee. The aim was not secta- 
 rian, but it was an effort to render the faith operative, 
 a " desire to promote the increase of religion in the 
 land." The name was chosen to avoid equivocation 
 on the one hand, and misapprehension on the other. 
 The Benevolent Fraternity of Churches for the 
 Support of the Ministry-at-Large was founded in 
 1834. "The sole object was to provide instruction 
 and solace for souls, not to add another to the 
 eleemosynary institutions of the city." This grew 
 out of the devoted and successful labors of Dr. 
 Tuckerman, Charles Barnard, and Frederick T. 
 Gray. Nine parishes entered into the scheme of ex- 
 tending and placing on a firm foundation their work 
 of spiritual benevolence. Ministers were supported ; 
 chapels were built, and an immense deal of good was 
 accomplished, of a moral and religious, but also of an 
 industrial character. At present nine churches con- 
 tribute $7,362.64— Arlington Street Church, King's 
 Chapel, Church of the Unity, First Church, West 
 Church, Second Church, South Congregational 
 Church, Morgan Chapel, First Parish of Dorchester. 
 There is no assessment. There are five chapels, — 
 Bulfinch Street, New South, Parmenter Street, Unity, 
 Morgan. The several funds yield $279,327.72. 
 The current expenses for 1888-9 were $19,186.33. 
 The chapels do a vast amount of work of an edu- 
 cational description. They are centres of spiritual 
 
66 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 power of a large kind. And this was one only 
 of several philanthropic missions of similar intent. 
 The Boston Port Society was incorporated in 1829 ; 
 the Seaman's Aid Society was formed in 1832 ; the 
 Young Men's Christian Union was organized in 1851 ; 
 the Society for the Relief of Aged and Destitute 
 Clergymen was established in 1848. These all had 
 a humane motive, and bear witness to the effort to 
 raise men and women in the scale of rational beings. 
 The working of these institutions, their machinery, 
 so to speak, fell into the hands of a few zealous, 
 fervid brethren, who were interested in all kinds of 
 moral elevation, and had faith in the principle of the 
 spiritual power latent in the individual will. The 
 result justified such faith when it assumed an 
 energetic form. The leaders acted on this presump- 
 tion and labored with much assiduity at attempts to 
 put their theory into operation. And yet, but for a 
 few, the projects would have got no footing. Among 
 those who served actively on the executive com- 
 mittees of the reform societies mentioned, I do not 
 find the names of Parkman or Young or Lowell or 
 Frothingham or Greenwood, though they all sympa- 
 thized with the humane objects of the organizations, 
 and were ready to help them forward by their influ- 
 ence and assistance. The truth is there was little or 
 ^Ino denominational feeling in these men. They were 
 Unitarians indeed in as far as they rejected the cur- 
 rent interpretations of Scripture, and the popular 
 doctrine of the creed, but they did not sieze upon 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 6"/ 
 
 the essential difference in idea between Liberalism 
 and Orthodoxy, whicli was well stated by Channing 
 as consisting in the validity of natural reason and 
 conscience. In a sermon j)reached in March, 1835, 
 the twentieth anniversary of his settlement in the 
 First Church, my father said : " This is known by 
 the name of the Unitarian controversy ; and in so 
 naming it I believe that I am giving utterance, for 
 the first time in this desk, to that party word. This 
 alone is saying not a little in illustration of the spirit 
 with which the offices of religion have been here 
 conducted. . . . We remained almost at rest in 
 that earthquake of schism. . . . We silently as- 
 sumed the ground, or rather found ourselves stand- 
 ing upon it, that there was no waiTant in the Scrip- 
 tures for the idea of a threefold personality in the 
 divine nature ; or for that of atonement, according 
 to the popular understanding of that word ; or for 
 that of man's total corruption and inability ; or for 
 that of an eternity of woe adjudged as the punish- 
 ment of earthly offences ; or indeed for any of the 
 peculiar articles in that scheme of faith which went 
 under the name of the Genevan reformer. . . . We 
 have made more account of the I'eligious sentiment 
 than of theological opinions." Elsewhere he declares : 
 " We have a doctrine ; though we are not anxious to 
 define it over-closely nor to mark the deviation from 
 any formulary that any may have prescribed. . . . We 
 have been unwilling to take part in enterprises that 
 have found unbounded favor with a large number of 
 
68 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 our friends " ; an evident allusion to Unitarian ac- 
 tivities. And again, in the address to the Alumni of 
 Cambridge Divinity School, Jidy 12, 1844, a discourse 
 devoted to the maintenance of an old-fashioned policy, 
 he said : " I have been led to choose that (theme) of 
 the posture of our religious times ; if, indeed, that 
 can be called a posture which is never in repose " ; 
 a statement that betrays a conviction of the steady, 
 uniform progress of religious truth, a persuasion 
 that there has been no crisis of change, the introduc- 
 tion of no new principle, nothing to Justify a depar- 
 ture from the ancient ways, in the direction of either 
 tnith or beneficence. That he stood alone in such an 
 attitude is not to be supposed. There is no evidence 
 that many did not sympathize Avith him ; some, we 
 know, did ; and the position was entirely defensible 
 on the ground of an even advance of human reason 
 and the sufficiency of the wonted method of Chris- 
 tian virtue to satisfy every reasonable demand of 
 piety. The necessity for distinction or separation 
 was not felt ; and so long as it was not, no emphasis 
 of doctrine, organization, or action was required. In 
 fact division was to be deprecated, and all attempts 
 to break in upon the established order were to be 
 deplored as useless and harmful innovation. 
 
 This account of Unitarianism is accepted by Dr. 
 Lothrop, who writes thus in his " Reminiscences " 
 (page 202) : 
 
 From the time of Dr. Freeman's settlement at King's 
 Chapel and the secession of the society from the Episcopal 
 ('hurch — all through the close of the last century and for the 
 
THE DOGMATICAL POSITION. 69 
 
 first forty years of this — the Unitarians were a distinct body, 
 planting themselves upon the Scriptures as the rule and basis 
 of faith, claiming to differ from other Christians, not on the 
 ground of reason and philosophy, but on the interpretation of 
 Scripture. They always distinctly acknowledge the authority of 
 Christ as a divine messenger and teacher whose words Avere the 
 supreme law in the spiritual world of religious thought and life. 
 
 He says tliat Mr. Parker " introduced discord into 
 the Unitarian body." 
 
 Orville Dewey takes a broader view. In an article 
 on Unitarianism, written for Johnson's Encyclopae- 
 dia, he speaks thus : 
 
 In short, the stand taken by Unitarianism is for nature, for 
 human nature, for every thing that God has made, as the mani- 
 festation of His will as truly as any thing written in the Bible. 
 
 But this was wiitten in 1877, and Dr. Dewey was a 
 forward-looking man. 
 
 The breaking up of the old theology began very 
 soon in Massachusetts. As early as 1697 Increase 
 Mather speaks of "miserable confusions and divi- 
 sions " not only in Boston, but in Watertown, Cam- 
 bridge, and Charlestown. The writer had attended 
 a council of four churches at Watertown, where it 
 was intended to ordain two ministers, but because of ^ 
 dissensions in the church there was no ordination 
 the " like not known in New England." (See Doyle's 
 " English Colonies in America," vol. iii., page 377.) 
 
 Still, it must be said, the Unitarians, laymen and 
 clergymen, regarded their position as final. They 
 could see nothing beyond but utter disbelief. Theirs 
 was the honest conviction that development could 
 go no further. 
 
V. 
 
 LITEEATCTEE AND RELIGION. 
 
 It is not at all surprising that these gentlemen 
 felt secui'e in tlieir doctrinal and ecclesiastical posi- 
 tion. The opposition was not strong. Mr. Emerson, 
 by far the most important dissident, sang his own 
 song, and cast no reflections on those who were not 
 in unison with him. Parker's assault was formid- 
 able, but was so much complicated with jpersonal 
 issues as to add to the confidence of his adversaries 
 rather than to diminish it. The new philosophy 
 seemed visionary and far off, a mist in the air, an 
 almost inaudible note in a symphony. German 
 criticism had not affected learned opinion to any 
 extent. A few men were acquainted with Semler, 
 Paulus, Strauss, De Wette, Rosenmuller, Eichhorn, 
 Herder, but a iew only. German rationalism had 
 a bad name. Schleiermacher was a " veil-maker," 
 Strauss a " man of straw," and it did not matter 
 what Matter thought about gnosticism. The great 
 scholar — Andrews Norton — thorough, careful, exact, 
 a sceptic in the true sense of the word — that is, a 
 scnitinizer, one who would take nothing on trust 
 
 70 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 7 1 
 
 l3ut would see things for himself before he believed 
 in them — had been all round the sheepfold with 
 hammer and hatchet, had tested every part, and 
 removed the unsound portions, and was prepared to 
 guarantee the security of each board and bolt ; so 
 great was his influence that some even fancied that 
 he originated Unitarianism, which was a mistake. 
 But he was a high authority. There was at that 
 time great interest in the evidence of Christianity, in 
 biblical criticism, and sacred learning. James Walker 
 «poke of Mr. Norton's "great work on the genuine- 
 ness of the Gospels," and Andrew P. Peabody, also 
 one of his pupils in the divinity school, writes of 
 him thus.* 
 
 He carried to the investigations of the sacred writings the 
 same microscopic scrutiny and uncompromising excision of 
 whatever can be otherwise than genuine, which the great Ger- 
 man scholars have brought to the study of the Greek and Ro- 
 man classics. ... In the Gospels he rejected every passage, 
 every text, every word, in which he could discover any possi- 
 ble token of interpolation or error in transcription ; and the \ 
 books thus expurgated he received, because he had convinced 
 himself, by research and reasoning, that they were the veritable 
 writings of the men whose names they bear, and the authentic 
 record of Him whose life they portray. ... I have never ' 
 "known a firmer belief than his in the divine mission and au- 
 thority of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Thus fortified there could be no misgiving. The 
 mind was free to range over the whole field of lit- 
 erature, scientific, historical, biographical, linguistic, 
 
 * " Reminiscences," p. 74. 
 
72 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 archaeological, poetical, didactic, dramatic, miscel- 
 laneous. Almost every Unitarian clergyman had 
 some pursuit outside of his profession. Norton was 
 a poet, read Shakespeare impressively, edited, in con- 
 nection with Charles Folsom, Tlie Select Journal 
 of Foreign Periodical Literature, republished the 
 verses of Mrs. Hemans. Palfrey busied himself with 
 the chronicles of New England. Young was inter- 
 ested in the elegant letters of the old country. W. 
 B. O. Peabody was a student of natural history, and 
 by appointment of the Legislature of Massachusetts 
 wrote a report on the birds of the Commonwealth. 
 Lunt, beside -sviiting on subjects of biography and 
 history, possessed poetical talents. Greenwood was 
 devoted to the contemplation of the stars, the flowers, 
 and every object of beauty in creation. Francis read 
 all the new books. Walker was learned in intellec- 
 tual philosophy. Hedge was an adept in history, in 
 German literature, and many other things. Robbins 
 disported himself in biography, with excursions in 
 Hindu lore. In Mr. Frothingham's " Metrical 
 Pieces " there are translations from Aratus, Proper- 
 tins, Martial, Manzoni, Goethe, Schiller, Herder, 
 Rtickert, Uhland, Von Zedlitz, Von Auersperg, 
 Heine. The hymns with which he enriched the 
 language turn, of course, on sacred themes, abound 
 in imagery drawn from the Scriptures, and are full 
 of religious sentiment, but they evince a most careful 
 regard for rhythmic expression. 
 
 There was very little interest in denominational 
 \^ distinctions. The term " liberal Christian " was 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 73. 
 
 especially repudiated as arrogant. To insinuate that 
 others are illiberal is certainly a strange way of prov- 
 ing one's generosity. " The true liberal Christian," 
 wrote Mr. Frothingham, " is he who can, in the first 
 place, believe he may be wrong while firmly con- 
 vinced he is right." The word '^ Christian " was 
 more emphasized than the word " liberal." To be 
 liberal outside of Christianity was not thought of, 
 and inside of it liberality consisted in the willing- 
 ness to receive such new truth as might break out of 
 God's word. None were liberal in any other sense, 
 and in this sense the Unitarians could not claim to 
 be alone, nor did the wisest of them. It was in tak- 
 ing a poetical instead of a dogmatical view of the 
 biblical statements that the best minds emancipated 
 themselves from theological trammels and prepared 
 the way for a bolder advance into the domain of 
 universal religion. There is a curious illustration of 
 this in an article on " Man before Adam " in the 
 Christian Examiner for January, 1851. In that 
 paper N. L. Frothingham said : " We hear it con- 
 stantly with new wonder, though repeated for the 
 hundredth time, how the true theory of the solar 
 system was rejected as an error and persecuted as 
 a blasphemy, because the Book of Joshua quotes 
 from the Book of Jasher — which might have been 
 a collection of heroic ballads, or a lyric on the ^ Con- 
 quest of Canaan ' — the poetical extravagance of the 
 Hebrew captain stopj)iug the sun, which stopping 
 could not have been done, unless the sun moved. 
 This ludicrous example is still a fair warning against 
 
74 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 pressing our construction of any passage of history 
 from the elder times and the twilight of humanity, 
 so as to bar the way of philosophic inquiry in pursu- 
 ing its legitimate and peculiar researches. We may 
 observe in passing that parallels to that passage from 
 the Book of Jasher occur in Grecian poetry." Then 
 he cites Homer's " Iliad " and Callimachus' " Hymn 
 to Diana." Again, in the opening discourse of the 
 "Sermons of a Twelvemonth," printed in 1852, Mr. 
 Frothingham says, preaching from 1 Samuel xi., 14 : 
 " It would be ill-suited to an occasion like this, to 
 be retracing the faint lines of a perished antiquity. 
 What to us is Samuel, the gray-haired prophet of an 
 infant nation, or Gilgal, a spot of ground once sacred 
 but now forgotten, by the river of a distant land ? 
 What to us is the renewing of a kingdom that so 
 soon and so iugloriously went to decay ? " 
 
 The feeling toward science was most cordial, but, 
 it will be observed, was confined, of necessity, to 
 questions raised at that time. The lines were not 
 drawn so closely then as they have been since. Dar- 
 win had not agitated the minds of that age. Still, as 
 far as could be gone, perfect liberty was guaranteed, 
 and on grounds entirely rational. In the article just 
 quoted I find the following passage : 
 
 "We say, that in no case whatever, and in no 
 degree whatever, should the student of physical sci- 
 ence be checked or limited in his inquiries by the 
 supposed authority of any ancient writing, however 
 sacred. The provinces of biblical criticism and of 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 75 
 
 any such, science are entirely distinct from one an- 
 other. It is dijficult to suppose that any authentic 
 history could travel down to us from so far ; and we 
 do not see why the Old Testament Scriptures should 
 be set up as the arbitrator on the method of the ori- 
 gin of the human race as a scientific fact, any more 
 than upon a question of geology or astronomy." 
 
 And this is called a truism to be apologized for on 
 account of its triteness. 
 
 The literary era was introduced by Rev. Joseph 
 Stevens Buckminster, a remarkable man, one of the 
 most active members of the Anthology Club, a 
 literary society which concentrated the talent of 
 Boston and vicinity and supported the Monthly 
 JLuthology, a magazine chiefly literary, but instru- 
 mental also in applying the intellectual method to 
 the problems of theology. Mr. Buckminster travelled 
 in Europe, saw a great many distinguished men, 
 made the acquaintance of German theology (it is 
 said that he first introduced Marsh's translation of 
 Michaelis into the United States), was an accom- 
 plished man of letters, had a fine library, the largest 
 in this neighborhood, public libraries not being 
 excepted, particularly rich in sacred and in classical 
 books ; was one of the first to institute in this part 
 of the countiy the study of bibliography, and, by 
 his own enthusiasm, lent a powerful impulse to 
 scholarship. The systematic study of biblical criti- 
 cism owed much to him and went hand in hand 
 with learning. His father, seeing his literary bent, 
 
y^ BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 strongly advised him not to enter upon the clerical 
 j)rofession, but a predilection for that calling pre- 
 vailed, and, after all, as a learned pursuit, it offered 
 the largest scope to the mind. His early death was 
 an immense loss to our intellectual world, at that 
 time just starting on its career and trying to shake 
 off the incubus of doctrinal tradition. His cultiva- 
 tion of ancient history, philosophy, art, even of 
 music ; his elegance of taste, his love of chaste 
 language and harmonious sentences, rendered his 
 influence almost poetical and truly rational, at once 
 conservative in sentiment and progressive in thought. 
 It is somewhat remarkable that his two successors, 
 Edward Everett and John Gorham Palfrey, should 
 both have left the ministry for secular pursuits. 
 This would seem to show an overwhelming tendency 
 toward literature. Mr. Buckminster's extraordinary 
 charm of manner and immense popularity assisted in 
 domesticating literature in the community and asso- 
 ciating religion with it. 
 
 At all events, whether this was the cause or some 
 other, a very mild type of religious doctrine prevailed 
 among the Unitarians after Mr. Buckminster's time ; 
 after 1812 orthodoxy was transfigui"ed. 
 
 As I read of those days I am reminded of the 
 bronze monuments in the old world made of cannon 
 which once belched forth flames and hot iron but 
 now stand in mute beauty in some crowded square, 
 gladdening the sunny space ; or the thi'eatening 
 clouds on Mt. Washington, that melted away in the 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 7/ 
 
 morning's beam and crept meekly up the mountain 
 side, as if to get off under tlie innocent guise of a 
 flock of sheep. Poems of William H. Furness, of 
 Robert C. Waterston, of William P. Lunt, of John 
 Pierpont, of Andrews Norton, of Frederic H. Hedge, 
 of James F. Clarke, of Edmund H. Sears, of William 
 Newell, of Stephen G. Bulfinch, and of many others, 
 laymen as well as clergymen, are evidence of the 
 transformation. They are sacred songs. The best 
 of N. L. Frothingham's pieces have this shadowy 
 background of religious sentiment, and he liked 
 nothing that did not show it, though it must not be 
 too conspicuous. Then he had a strong distaste for 
 Thackeray, whom he thought worldly and flippant ; 
 and for Goethe, who was too much of a pagan for 
 him. On the other hand, he could not bear Mrs. 
 Browning, who seemed to him saponaceous. He 
 required moral fibre, and, on this account, despised 
 Coleridge, who, in his judgment, was not only selfish 
 but pretentious, and willing to shine in borrowed 
 plumage. Scott, and Southey, and Schiller were \/' 
 favorites with him ; but Shelley, Byron, Heine ! The 
 more philosophic schools — Wordsworth, for ex- 
 ample — he did not care for. He was a realist, but 
 with a strong flavor of romanticism. The least sus- 
 picion of hollowness or cynicism he resented, and he 
 was perhaps too ready to suspect them when they 
 did not exist. But to return to his own verses. The 
 following are good specimens of what I mean, and 
 may serve as illustrations. 
 
78 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 TO A FRIEND NEAR DEATH. 
 
 "When I am weak, I 'm strong," 
 The great Apostle cried. 
 The strength, that did not to the earth belong, 
 The might of Heaven supplied. 
 
 " When I am weak, I 'm strong " ; — 
 Blind Milton caught that strain, 
 And flung its victory o'er the ills that throng 
 Round Age, and Want, and Pain. 
 
 " When I am weak, I 'm strong,' 
 Each Christian heart repeats ; 
 These words will tune its feeblest breath to song, 
 And fire its languid beats. 
 
 " When I am weak, I 'm strong " ; — 
 That saying is for you. 
 Dear friend, and well it may become your tongue, 
 Whose soul has found it true. 
 
 O Holy Strength ! whose ground 
 Is in the heavenly land ; 
 And whose supporting help alone is found 
 In God's immortal hand. 
 
 O blessed ! that appears 
 
 When fleshly aids are spent ; 
 And girds the mind, when most it faints and fears. 
 With trust and sweet content. 
 
 It bids us cast aside 
 All thoughts of lesser powers ; 
 Give up all hopes from changing time and tide. 
 And all vain will of ours. 
 
 We have but to confess 
 
 That there 's but one retreat ; 
 And meekly lay each need and each distress 
 Down at the SDvereign I'eet ; — 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 79 
 
 Then, then it fills the place 
 Of all we hoped to do ; 
 And sunken Nature triumphs in the Grace 
 That bears us up and through. 
 
 A better glow than health 
 Flushes the cheek and brow ; 
 The heart is stout with store of nameless wealth ; — 
 We can do all things now. 
 
 No less sufficience seek ; 
 All counsel less is wrong ; 
 The whole world's force is poor, and mean, and weak ;— 
 " When I am weak, I 'm strong." 
 
 A DEPARTURE. 
 
 ' WEEP NOT ; SHE IS NOT DEAD." 
 
 No ! call it not to die, to pass away 
 
 Thus, and to be translated ; — every power 
 
 Of mind and spirit kept till life's last breath ; 
 
 No pain to rack the frame ; no weak regret 
 
 Or anxious doubt to cloud the parting soul ; 
 
 Peace in the heart, and hope upon the brow, — 
 
 Ay, more than hope, — faith changing into vision, 
 
 As this bright world, with all its bloom upon it. 
 
 Was opening upward into views of heaven. 
 
 This is not death, but ceasing to be mortal. 
 
 It may remind us of those old departures, 
 
 Those exoduses, told in Holy Writ, 
 
 Which that word ' ' dead " was not allowed to darken. 
 
 " And Enoch walked with God ; and he was not. 
 
 For God had taken him." — " And he was not," — 
 
 Not on the earth, where he had walked so long, — 
 
 As many years as each year shines in days, — 
 
 But lost to human eyesight ; disappearing 
 
 Within the splendor where he walks for ever. 
 
^O BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 When Israel's prophet, he that was its chariot 
 And horseman, felt that his last hour was come, — 
 His last below, — a fiery car and steeds 
 Of fire his fervid spirit snatched away. 
 It was not so with her. No troubled sky, 
 No shapes of terrible beauty, broke the calm. 
 That blessed her sweet translation from the world. 
 O mourn not for her ! Mourn but for the dead, — 
 The dead in sins, the dead in hopelessness. 
 She has but just put on her incorruption. 
 
 A MEDITATION. 
 
 Too far from thee, O Lord ! 
 The world is close upon each captured sense ; 
 The heart's dear idols never vanish hence ; 
 Life's care and labor still are pressing nigh ; 
 Its fates and passions hard about nie lie ; — 
 But Thou art dim behind thine infinite sky, 
 
 O distantly adored ! 
 
 Lord, too far from thee ! 
 Unwinged Time stands ever in my sight, 
 Flooding the Past and Now with gloom and light ; 
 Silent, but busy, constant at my side. 
 
 It shreds away strength, beauty, joy, and pride. 
 Eternal ! why am I from Thee so wide, 
 Nor thy near Presence see ? 
 
 Ne'er languished for as now. 
 Now that the hold of Earth feels poor and frail, — 
 Now that the cheek of Hope looks thin and pale, 
 And forms of buried love rise ghostly round, 
 And dark thoughts struggle on o'er broken ground,- 
 Where is thy face, O Father ! radiant found 
 
 With mercy on thy brow ? 
 
 1 know that not from far, 
 
 Not from abroad, this presence is revealed, — 
 To our will denied, and from our wit concealed. 
 No search can find Thee, no entreaty bring, — 
 Reason a weak. Desert a spotted thing. 
 O Spirit, lift me on thy dove-like wing 
 To realms that last and Are ! 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 8 1 
 
 " ARISE AND EAT." 
 "Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for thee." — i Kings xix. 7. 
 
 " The journey is too great for thee," 
 
 The prophet heard ; 
 And all may list in secrecy 
 
 The self-same word. 
 
 Life's way and work lie forward spread 
 
 In Duty's sight ; 
 And who but needs more strength to stead, 
 
 And fuller light ? 
 
 And grant no lack of view or force, — 
 
 We faint in will ; 
 And so the sweep of that great course 
 
 We fail to fill. 
 
 The weary tracts of pain and grief 
 
 Will stretch far through. 
 Till the flesh sinks beyond relief. 
 
 And the heart too. 
 
 The tangled paths of many a care 
 
 Wind slow about ; 
 And straight in front, lo ! flinty fare 
 
 And foggy doubt ; 
 
 And hindrances the firmest tread 
 
 Will oft beset ; 
 And perils with a deeper dread 
 
 The dear life threat. 
 
 " The journey is too great for thee ! " 
 
 Beyond the bounds 
 Where Time parts from Immensity 
 
 Its measured grounds. 
 
 Oh, then that other word attend ! 
 
 Its offer meet ; — 
 The calling of an angel-friend : 
 
 " Arise and eat." 
 
82 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Eat of the fruits of holy trust 
 
 In heavenly good ; 
 Not grown of dust, to mould to dust, 
 
 But angel's food. 
 
 That food shall nerve both limb and heart 
 
 When faint with fear ; 
 And pour through each immortal part 
 
 Its power and cheer. 
 
 Thus, girt with zeal, the travelling soul, 
 
 With patience shod. 
 Arrives at Horeb's distant goal, 
 
 The mount of God. 
 
 •THINE EYES SHALL SEE THE KING." 
 
 " Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty. 
 
 And the land that is very far off." — Isaiah xxxiii. 17. 
 
 Stand thou but clad and begirt for thy duty 
 Till all vestures of Time thou must doff ; 
 
 Then thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty. 
 And the land that is very far off. 
 
 Not " they shall see the King in his glory," — 
 'T were more than those eyes might abide ; 
 
 His face bears the touch of a mortal story. 
 And 't was love that scarred his side. 
 
 As far away from thought as appearance 
 Lie the scenes of that prophet clime ; 
 
 Behind these mountains of interference. 
 Beyond these rivers of Time. 
 
 We wander. in error and weakness and vanity. 
 No courage to move, and no jiatience to stand ; 
 
 When shall we see that King of humanity. 
 And tread his invisible land? 
 
 Now, in the broad high jjlaces of Feeling ; 
 
 Now, in kind, self-forgetting Deeds, — 
 There lie the realms of the Spirit's revealing ; 
 
 This is the lesson the Spirit reads. 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 83 
 
 IN BEHALF OF "THE HOME FOR DESTITUTE AND 
 INCURABLE WOMEN." 
 
 Incurable ! Sweet Nature's healing forces 
 Struck at the root, and wasted at the spring ; 
 
 While Art and Science, with their grand resources. 
 No means can study out, no rescue bring. 
 
 Incurable ! The fatal word is spoken 
 
 That smites the faint heart with its flat despair ; 
 
 Yet it is heard with spirit not all broken, 
 If Gratitude and Faith their solace bear. 
 
 Waken that thankfulness in Misery's daughters. 
 Which, more than expectation, holds us up ; 
 
 Direct the flow of ever-living waters 
 To fill the hollow of their earthen cup. 
 
 — Nature and flesh, in sinking, do not alter 
 
 The thoughts that rise beyond decay and pain ; 
 
 And, when the leech's cunning fingers falter, 
 Eternal hands the inward life sustain. 
 
 Sharp the distress, as desperate the condition. 
 Of those who here lie at the Beautiful Gate, 
 
 And from the name of Him, the Great Physician, 
 With patient eyes their whole deliverance wait. 
 
 That name is Mercy. Show your portion of it : 
 Aid your poor sisters in their sorest need ; 
 
 And so join with Apostle and with Prophet, 
 Who bore its message and fulfilled its deed. 
 
 Small is their hope but in the upper dwelling ; 
 
 Too weak to labor, and too lame to roam : 
 Let not the record that 's on high be telling 
 
 You grudged the weary feet a transient " Home.' 
 
 THE CROSSED SWORDS. 
 
 Read at a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society, April 28, 1859, 
 on occasion of the transfer of two swords, so arranged, from the library of 
 William H. Prescott to that of the Society. One of them was worn by 
 
84 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Colonel William Prescott at the battle of Bunker Hill ; the other by Captain 
 Linzee, who commanded the British sloop-of-war Falcott, which cannonaded 
 the American troops during that action. The two families were afterwards 
 allied in intermarriage. 
 
 Swords crossed, but not in strife ! 
 The chiefs who drew them, parted by the space 
 Of two proud countries' quarrel, face to face 
 
 Ne'er stood, for death or life. 
 
 Swords crossed, that never met 
 While nerve was in the hands that wielded them ; 
 Hands better destined a fair family stem 
 
 On these free shores to set. 
 
 Kept crossed by gentlest bands ! 
 Emblems no more of battle, but of peace ; 
 And proofs how loves can grow and wars can cease, 
 
 Their once stern symbol stands. 
 
 It smiled first on the array 
 Of marshalled books and friendliest companies ; 
 And here, a history among histories, 
 
 It still shall smile alway. 
 
 See that thou memory keep 
 Of him the first Commander, and that other 
 The stainless Judge,' and him our peerless brother,— 
 
 All fallen now to sleep. 
 
 Yet more : a lesson teach. 
 To cheer the patriot soldier in his course, 
 That Right shall triumph still o'er insolent Force : 
 
 That be your silent speech. 
 
 Oh, be prophetic, too ! 
 And may those nations twain, as sign and seal 
 Of endless amity, hang up their steel, 
 
 As we these weapons do. 
 
 The archives of the past. 
 So smeared with blots of hate and bloody wrong. 
 Pining for peace, and sick to wait so long. 
 
 Hail this meek cross at last. 
 
 ' Judge William Prescott, father of the historian. 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 8$ 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 How blest this peaceful hour and tranquil soul ! 
 
 Why are we so disquieted in vain ? 
 
 Feeble affronts will break the temper's rein, 
 
 And little crosses master self-control. 
 
 A vanishing spark we turn to burning coal, 
 
 And insect buzzings overthrow the brain. 
 
 We fret at Time and Nature ; and complain 
 
 That fates are fixtures, and that fortunes roll. 
 
 We sigh along the past, that now is not ; 
 
 And tremble at the future, that as yet 
 
 Is nothing but what fancy's fears beget. 
 
 And draws no blade across a single spot. 
 
 Take lessons from these moments, O fond heart I 
 
 When no griefs press thee, and no terrors start. 
 
 BARTIMtEUS. 
 
 " What wouldst thou I should do for thee ? ' 
 Said he who held the wonder-key 
 Of Nature's secret virtues ; who 
 The utmost that he said could do ; 
 For, not like these poor breaths of ours. 
 His words were gifts and acts and powers. 
 
 The questioned man had ears to hear. 
 And Touch was true in its small sphere ; 
 His tongue was quick ; he rose to meet 
 The Grace that called him to his feet. 
 But hidden were Christ's form and face, 
 The moving crowd, the unmoving place ; 
 The kingly sense that lights the mind 
 Was gone : Timseus' son was blind. 
 He answered, — did he answer right ? — 
 " Lord, that I might receive my sight." 
 
 Oh, chide not that he could not lift 
 His heart to any higher gift ; 
 And when a heavenly offerer came. 
 No heavenly gift could think or name. 
 " Receive thy sight," the Christ replied ; 
 And the glad wretch walked justified. 
 
86 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Sat there that day a king at hand, 
 
 With sceptre over sea and land. 
 
 And wealth and splendor round his throne. 
 
 Free to all eyes, — denied his own, — 
 
 On his crowned brow were blot like that, 
 
 Would he not cast to mole and bat 
 
 His royalty, for leave to share 
 
 A portion with that beggar there ; 
 
 And rags to jewelled robes prefer, 
 
 With power to see that rags they were ? 
 
 The blind are happy, it is said. 
 
 Not so this scripture tale has read. 
 
 The sharp cry could not silenced be, 
 
 " Have mercy, mercy, upon me. 
 
 Thou son of David." What he craved 
 
 Was met with this, " Thy faith hath saved." 
 
 Yet list we to that plaintive cheer ; 
 
 'T is wisely spoke and sweet to hear ; 
 
 And many witnesses renew 
 
 The faith that it is strangely true : 
 
 Yes, happy, — cleave we to the hope, 
 
 Though feet must swerve and hands must grope \ 
 
 All action played behind a screen, 
 
 The world no space and life no scene ; 
 
 Though nature, art, streets, fields, and books, 
 
 And better, best, all friendly looks, 
 
 Have faded into nought ; the gaze 
 
 That spans a world and threads a maze, 
 
 And, when the round of day is done 
 
 Outshoots the arrows of the sun, 
 
 Changed for the thin short line that slips 
 
 Beneath the moving finger-tips. 
 
 Who that hath watched the smiles, that chase 
 
 Each other o'er the tranquil face 
 
 Thus mutilate, does not decree 
 
 A place for them in memory ? 
 
 The human soul a debtor lies 
 
 To him who sang of Paradise ; 
 
 Who tells you that a single jot 
 
 Of heart or hope he bated not. 
 
 Nay, there are they whose playful strain 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 8/ 
 
 Has argued that this want was gain. 
 
 Still Memory's rigid canvas glows, 
 
 And Fancy's free conception flows, 
 
 And Reason tells her problems o'er, 
 
 And gleaning Thoughts find field and store. 
 
 What, then ? Did our poor Israelite 
 
 Prize at too much the wealth of sight ? 
 
 And is its loss a lighter woe 
 
 Than men have thought ? Oh no ! oh no ! 
 
 This new Beatitude will prove 
 
 The wonder of the Father-love, 
 
 That bids such compensation wait 
 
 On a calamity so great. 
 
 Because so great. Oh ! bless the care 
 
 That stoops to such a deep despair. 
 
 The blind are happy ? Only such 
 
 As make the world's small remnant much> 
 
 And call an inward state to atone 
 
 For what makes this without so lone. 
 
 Nor all concealed from human thought 
 How this celestial work is wrought ; 
 They who see not have eyes that lend 
 Their aid to guide and to defend ; 
 Aye, numberless. They sit immured 
 In kindly offices ; secured 
 By their strong helplessness. Who stem 
 The boldest crowds, make way for them. 
 Mark on the pavement how the click 
 Of their half-seeing, slender stick, 
 Is potent as a Sultan's word 
 Or Marshal's staff or conqueror's sword. 
 Close tended by the good and kind, 
 They form the temper that they find. 
 Does not the disposition bless. 
 And good-will grow to happiness ? 
 With narrowing range of earth's ado. 
 The field of strife is narrowed too : 
 The tents are struck, the flags are furled, 
 That make a camp of half the world : 
 As feuds and provocations close. 
 The unchallenged spirit tastes repose. 
 
» 
 
 88 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 The Son of Man, in passing by, 
 Heeded his suppliant's imntic cry, 
 Opened his eyes to drin^nhe day, 
 And showed his followii^ steps the way : 
 He passes by no more. A sphere 
 Immortal holds him. But e'en here, 
 And now, and evermore he stands, 
 And lifts his voice and lays his hands. 
 Courage and cure ; But not as when 
 He moved among those Hebrew men. 
 No miracle or transient sign 
 Attest the word or act divine. 
 The painted earth and painted sky 
 And looks of dear humanity. 
 He brings not back ; but shows in light 
 What needs no orb of sensuous sight. 
 Ideal growths flush into bloom 
 And dove-like sits that raven gloom. 
 
 O Son of David ! many sit 
 In that deep valley. Speak to it ! 
 Set Duty's plain and Faith's high hill 
 Before them ; and within them still 
 Let Mind pursue its even trains, 
 Affection chant its sweet refrains, 
 And Truth draw clear its landscape lines, 
 Clear as where Nature buds and shines. 
 From that bright realm reflect a ray 
 Where tears and films are wiped away. 
 Let patience hold and love increase ; 
 And fold them in thy peace, thy peace. 
 
 Two series of these modestly called "Metrical 
 Pieces," were printed, the first in 1855, the second in 
 1870, immediately after his death, which prevented 
 his carrying the volume through the press. The 
 latter contains old hymns in German, which he 
 amused himself by translating as he sat in his chair, 
 blind. They were committed to memory, verse by 
 verse, and then turned into English, the original 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 89 
 
 metre being preserved. Here is a specimen, no 
 better than the rest, h- 
 
 WAS GOTT THUT DAS 1ST WOHLGETHAN. 
 
 (This hymn was written at Jena by Samuel Rodigast in 1675, for a sick 
 friend, who composed the fine melody to which it is set.) 
 
 What God doth, it is all well done. 
 
 His will upright abiding : 
 Since he hath traced my course begun, 
 I will go on confiding. 
 My God is he 
 Who holdeth me : 
 I will not turn complainer 
 At such a wise Ordainer. 
 
 What God doth, it is all well done ; 
 
 He never will deceive me : 
 In righteous paths he leadeth on, 
 And never will he leave me. 
 With patience still 
 I meet his will : 
 111 days he timely closeth. 
 That run as he disposeth. 
 
 What God doth, it is all well done ; 
 
 His care will be unfailing : 
 A Healer, and a wondrous one, 
 Will not mistake my ailing. 
 No poisons his 
 For remedies. 
 His truth is my foundation ; 
 His grace my whole salvation. 
 
 What God doth, it is all well done ; 
 
 He is my light and being. 
 Mere evil he can mean me none : 
 I bow to his decreeing. 
 Through weal or woe. 
 Time still will show. 
 Which every thing revealeth 
 How faithfully lie dealeth. 
 
90 BOSTON UNITARIANISM.. 
 
 What God doth, it is all well done. 
 
 If I must drink the chalice, 
 The bitter cup which I would shun, 
 My shrinking soul he rallies ; 
 And, firmly placed. 
 My heart shall taste 
 That sweet peace in believing 
 Which softens down all grieving. 
 
 What God doth, it is all well done : 
 
 Strong shall that make and find me. 
 Rough ways I may be forced to run, 
 Griefs pressing close behind me ; 
 Yet God will be 
 Right fatherly ; 
 In death his arm sustaineth : 
 Then be it he that reigneth. 
 
 I must think that Justice has never been done to 
 the purely literary spirit in regard to its influence in 
 preparing the way for the intellectual liberty which 
 we enjoy. Its grace, its sweetness, its love of beauty, 
 its desire for sjnnmetry, harmony, proportion, its 
 hospitality of thought, its refinement of doctrine, its 
 discouragement of the dictatorial temper, are of great 
 importance. In bringing about the Reformation, 
 Erasmus did his part as well as Luther. Luther 
 might expostulate with Erasmus, might laugh at 
 him, might upbraid him as a coward, still it is 
 doubtful if the former could have done his work so 
 well, had not the latter, by his gentle, tolerant dis- 
 position, his immense learning, his hatred of excess 
 and partisanship, his habit of applying to all ques- 
 tions the critical method, his respect for reason, his 
 wit and keen satire, leavened and enlarged the mind 
 
LITERATURE AND RELIGION. 9 1 
 
 of Germany. Sweetness and light are no mean pow- 
 ers. The sunbeam daily re-creates a universe, makes 
 the birds sing, the animals rejoice, the forests clothe 
 themselves with verdure, the flowers bloom, and man 
 able to renew his labor. The social world would 
 even come to an end if there were storms only in it, 
 or storms often. Our dependence is on philosophy 
 mainly. It has been heretofore, and it will be so 
 more and more in the time to come. In the second 
 series of his " Essays in Criticism " (The Study of 
 Poetry), Matthew Arnold, quoting himself, thus 
 reaffirming Ms opinion, says : 
 
 The future of poetry is immense, because in poetry, where 
 it is worthy of its high destinies, our race, as time goes on, will 
 find a surer and ever surer stay. There is not a creed which 
 is not shaken, not an accredited dogma which is not shown to 
 be questionable, not a received tradition which does not 
 threaten to dissolve. Our religion has materialized itself in 
 the fact, in the supposed fact ; it has attached its emotion 
 to the fact, and now the fact is failing it. But for poetry the 
 idea is everything, the rest is a world of illusion, of divine 
 illusion. Poetry attaches its emotion to the idea ; the idea is 
 the fact. The strongest part of our religion to-day is its un- 
 conscious poetry. 
 
 And Mr. F. W. H. Myers, in an article on " Ten- 
 nyson as Prophet," in tbe Nineteenth Century Maga- 
 zine (March, 1889), adds his word : 
 
 Meanwhile we need our prophets ; and the true poet comes 
 nearer to inspiration than any prophet to whom we can hope to 
 listen now. Let his intuitions come to us dissolved in that 
 fineness of thought and melody which makes the highest art 
 we know ; let flashes of a strange delight, like sparkles in the 
 
92 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Stone Aventurine, — reveal at once the beauty and the darkness 
 of the meditations whence the song has sprung. Give us, if so 
 it may be, the exaltation which lifts into a high community ; 
 the words which stir the pulse like passion, and wet the eyes 
 like joy, and with the impalpable breath of an inward murmur 
 can make a sudden glory in the deep of the heart. 
 
 TMs is tlie mission of the great singers, but the 
 minor poets, yes, they who will not call themselves 
 by that fine name, do something to clear the air and 
 render the atmosphere easier to inhale. The lyrical 
 view of religion is the beginning of a new era whose 
 end is not yet, the initiation of a freer movement of 
 mind which detaches intellect from all dogmatism 
 and ensures a perfect freedom. 
 
VI. 
 
 THE UNITARIAlsr LAYMAN. 
 
 In 1818 Mr. Frotliingliam was married to Ann 
 Gorham Brooks, eldest daughter of Peter Chard on 
 Brooks, of Boston. Mr. Brooks was an admirable 
 example of the Unitarian layman of that period, 
 industrious, honest, faithful in all relations of life, 
 charitable, public-spirited, intelligent, sagacious, min- 
 gling the prudence of the man of affairs with the 
 faith of the Christian. In meditating on the charac- 
 ters of these men, one is reminded of the good 
 Samuel Sewall. Of course the softening influence 
 of one hundred and fifty years had produced its 
 effect. There was less reference to divine interposi- 
 tion, less literalness in interpreting Scripture, less 
 bluntness, less superstition, if we may use so harsh a 
 word in speaking of that sweet soul. But there was 
 the same integrity, the same conscientiousness, the 
 same directness of dealing, the same respect for learn- 
 ing, the same reverence for piety, the same punctilious- 
 ness of demeanor, the same urbanity. They were 
 not reformers, or ascetics, or devotees. All idealists 
 were visionaries, in their esteem. Those who looked 
 
 93 
 
94 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 for a " kingdom of heaven " were dreamers. They 
 went to church ; they had family prayers as a rule, 
 though by no means universally. It was customary 
 to say grace at meat. They wished they were holy 
 enough to adorn the communion ; they believed the 
 narratives in the Bible, Old Testament and New. 
 As one recalls the leading persons in Brattle Street, 
 Federal Street, Chauncy Place, King's Chapel, the 
 New Noi-th, the New South, — men like Adams, Eliot, 
 Perkins, Bumstead, Lawrence, Sullivan, Jackson, 
 Judge Shaw, Daniel Webster, Jacob Bigelow, T. B. 
 Wales, Dr. Bowditch, — forms of dignity and of worth 
 rise before the mind. Better men there are not. 
 More honorable men, according to the standard of 
 the time, there are not likely to be. Numerous others 
 come U23, — William H. Prescott, the Putnams, the 
 Cabots. I used to see people who had the cardinal 
 virtues of the Gospel ; Mr. Brooks belonged to this 
 class. It was my privilege, some time ago, to read 
 over his journal and the picture there presented is 
 interesting, not merely as throwing light on an indi- 
 vidual character, but also as describing an order of 
 men. There were more distinguished names in 
 literature, in science, in society, but none were more 
 respected for probity, for sterling qualities of char- 
 acter. Edward Everett, one of his sons-in-law, praised 
 him in the Merchants' Magazine ; Charles F. Adams, 
 another son-in-law, paid him a glorious but deserved 
 tribute. 
 
 It is true that the world was small then, and indi- 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. 95 
 
 viduals were prominent. But let tlie world be smaller 
 or larger, the sober qualities of manhood prevail in 
 the long run. If the world be small, the honest man 
 is seen sooner, and comes at earlier recognition. If 
 the world be large, his work and influence are the 
 same. Brilliant gifts produce at the moment a more 
 startling effect, but substantial worth alone endures, 
 giving power and adding to the permanent growth of 
 society. This is not the place to discuss the value 
 of the private person as compared with that of the 
 showy genius, but so much may be said, that unless 
 genius be reinforced by character its impression is 
 evanescent, while character alone furnishes the funda- 
 mental basis of develo]3ment. Confidence is at the 
 bottom of progress, and confidence is won and held 
 by character. It is commonly after a long lapse of 
 time that the contribution made by a high-toned 
 gentleman is acknowledged; then it is, and we 
 wonder that we did not recognize it before. This 
 man's name is written all over the history of his 
 time, when more dazzling persons have passed away. 
 He was simply a merchant, coining money as he had 
 opportunity, buying land, making investments, send- 
 ing out cargoes, negotiating bonds, pursuing a quiet 
 course, yet he did his full share of public good, and 
 left a name that his descendants are proud to bear. 
 
 A few biographical details will make clear their 
 pride of lineage. The ancestor came from England 
 about the year 1630, a sturdy, independent, coura- 
 geous yeoman. The father was a clergyman, ordained 
 
96 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 at North Yarmoutli in 1764, and settled there five 
 years, when a separation took place, occasioned 
 partly by the condition of his health, which was not 
 good, and partly by his theological opinions, which 
 were too liberal for that region and that age. In 
 1775 he went over to Lexington on horseback, with 
 his gun on his shoulder and his full-bottomed wig on 
 his head. He was a " Son of Liberty," and stood 
 ready to prove his faith by his works. In 1777 he 
 went as chaplain in the frigate Hancock^ Captain 
 Manly, was captured by the frigate FoXj and sent to 
 Halifax, where, in prison, he had the small-pox. 
 This so weakened his already feeble constitution 
 that he died two or three years after his release, at 
 the age of forty-eight. 
 
 His second son came to Boston when about sixteen 
 years old, and boarded with a man who was inter- 
 ested in navigation, an illiterate man, but with busi- 
 ness enough to justify his keeping a clerk. From 
 this clerk the boy learned book-keeping. Shortly 
 after coming of age he engaged himself as secretary 
 in the insurance office of Mr. J. H., at the tavern 
 called the "Bunch of Grapes," on the corner of 
 State and Kilby streets. Mr. H. was an old man, 
 and had not been fortunate. At the expiration of a 
 twelvemonth he was advised to give up his business 
 to his energetic, long-sighted clerk. This he did in 
 July, 1789. At this period there was little doing in 
 insurance anywhere, and pai-ticularly in Mr. H.'s 
 office, but it soon began to revive under the new 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. 97 
 
 mauagement. By and by the French Revolution 
 came, and the war between England and France ; 
 commerce increased immensely ; premiums went up ; 
 so that from 1793 to 1803, the year of the peace of 
 Amiens, the young man, who was now thirty-six 
 years old, with a wife (for he was married in 1792), 
 was busily and profitably employed. To be sure, 
 he had good fortune and excellent friends, but the 
 first was due largely to his sagacity, and the latter 
 to his integrity. He was known to be capable, 
 exact, prompt, and honorable. Mr. Samuel Brown, 
 a bachelor, of great ability and uprightness, much 
 respected and consulted, warmly befriended him, 
 gave him counsel, lent him money. The funding 
 system and the national bank attracted speculation 
 in 1791. Mr. Brown did not personally embark in 
 these schemes, but he advised his young friend to 
 invest, and became his surety for any amount. The 
 issue was successful. Mr. Brooks made money, as 
 he said himself, "hand over hand." In 1803 he 
 quitted the private insurance business, handing it 
 over, in his turn, to his clerk. This was the era of 
 public offices of insurance, a time of peace, too, 
 when ventures were dull. 
 
 The interval from 1803 to 1806 was employed in 
 closing up the affairs of the office, and, inasmuch as 
 a good many ventures were still out, this had, in the 
 majority of instances, to be effected by a comj)romise, 
 the accounts of underwriters being assumed ; an ad- 
 mirable plan for the underwriters, who were relieved 
 
98 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 thereby from all anxiety on account of risks ; but, as 
 it liappened, an excellent arrangement for Lira too, 
 as matters turned out well. This, in fact, was the 
 only way of settlement, unless the final closing of 
 iL'counts should be postponed for an indefinite period 
 until the risks had expired. 
 
 The next ten years, in spite of the arduous duties 
 laid upon the President of the New England Insur- 
 ance Company, were devoted to public service in the 
 Senate, House, and Council-chamber of Massachu- 
 setts, in course of which his good sense, business 
 experience, and trained judgment proved of great 
 value. Ability such as his could not fail to be 
 recognized and employed. Money begets money. 
 Success guarantees success. He who can, finds op- 
 portunities waiting for him. So his wealth increased, 
 his influence, his honor among men. 
 
 This is a remarkable record ; remarkable because 
 unusual, for it simply illustrates the old, old truth 
 that industry, Judgment, perseverance, integrity, 
 command the world. In 1782 this man came to 
 Boston without a dollar. The country was in the 
 depth of poverty. It was the last year of the war. 
 In January, 1783, a month after Mr. Brooks arrived, 
 peace with England was proclaimed in State Street, 
 but every thing had to be adjusted. This condition 
 of affairs, which must have been an ordinary manV 
 discouragement, was his opportunity. I must quote 
 his own words here : 
 
 Having kept books by double entry ever since I had any 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. 99 
 
 money to open them with, it is amusing to mark my progress. 
 I have had the curiosity to note down, not only the progress I 
 have made as to property, but my state of feeling at the end of 
 many of the years. My ledger A I opened January 7, 1788, 
 when I was twenty-one. I had laid up a little by small adven- 
 tures ; my stock was ^^51, i6j., \od.^ about $170. In Septem- 
 ber I, 1789, it was increased ^z'^^'> i^^., 2d., between $1,200 
 and $1,300. So steady was my good fortune. I believe that 
 every year of my life, from twenty-one, found me richer, and 
 nearly every year much richer. In 1792, November 26th, I 
 was married, and bought a house for ^1,000. I think (but 
 have not looked to see) that I was worth then about $25,000, 
 and I felt rich, not so much from having that sum, as from 
 having an income in various ways that gave me perhaps 
 annually as much more. I have indeed been a fortunate man. 
 
 True, he inherited an excellent constitution. He 
 very seldom lost a day from ill-health. But, then, 
 he took pains to preserve it by temperance in eating 
 and drinking, regularity of hours, simplicity of 
 living, exercise in the open air, the cultivation of 
 natural tastes, farming, gardening, exhilarating pleas- 
 ures, sound sleep, and early rising. 
 
 He had the best of friends, but he deserved them. 
 They were earned by his fidelity, and kept by his 
 constancy. His exactness, his promptitude, his 
 punctiliousness in detail, his honorableness, his 
 urbanity engaged confidence. He could not give 
 occasion of offence. It is remarkable that he had but 
 one lawsuit, and that was brought by some misguided 
 heirs of an old associate, and in spite of a generous 
 concession on his part. Of course he won the suit, 
 notwithstanding the effoi-ts of distinguished counsel, 
 
lOO BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 wlio could uot contest tlie equity of his arrange- 
 ments or the clearness of his figures. 
 
 The heirs did not pretend to question the accuracy of my 
 accounts. After searching them with the closest scrutiny, and 
 having every book before them for years, no mistake was found. 
 
 A singular feature of this case, and one that shows 
 the innocency of dealing in those old days, was the 
 dismissal by the court of a claim for interest on a 
 large amount for many years. " I had never paid 
 interest to anybody in my life," he says, " and in this 
 
 case, if Mr. H himself had ever intimated such 
 
 a thing to me, I would not have kept his money a 
 moment. The court decided that I should not be 
 made to pay any." The. case lasted four years, and 
 was a chancery suit, where every thing was dis- 
 closed. It was gained by sheer force of personal 
 accuracy and straightforwardness of dealing. There 
 was no attempt at prevarication ; there was no desire 
 to prevaricate. 
 
 There were no wasting sorrows in this life. The 
 father died in 1781 ; the mother in 1800. She was 
 an excellent manager, with courage to bear the ills 
 of fortune, and with the pride that is a virtue. She 
 taught her children to hold their own, and to be 
 contented. His married estate was happy. His 
 wife had a fund of spirits, ^vas amiable, social, and 
 discharged her various duties for forty years. There 
 were thirteen children, seven of whom survived him ; 
 intelligent, accomplished, able, competent men and 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. loi 
 
 women. The death of those he lost gave him acute 
 pain, but he was no longer struggling or anxious, 
 and could bring an undiminished fortitude to bear 
 on his grief. Wounds heal soon in a healthy nature. 
 He joined the church, and was a consistent church 
 member. He was not effusive, demonstrative, or 
 loud-voiced. His name did not stand high on church 
 lists or among the patrons of the faith. His was 
 the calm, rational, sober belief of the thoughtful, 
 educated, honorable men of his day, — men like 
 Lemuel Shaw, Joseph Story, Daniel A. White, — in- 
 tellectual, noble people, with worthy aims, a lofty 
 sense of duty, a strong conviction of the essential 
 truths of revealed Christianity ; sincere believers in 
 the Gospel, of enduring principle, of pure, consistent, 
 blameless life and conduct. Speculative theology he 
 cared little or nothing about. He was no disputant, 
 no doubter, no casuist ; of the heights of mysticism 
 of the depths of infidelity, he knew nothing. He 
 was conservative of course, from temperament rather 
 than from inquiry. He took the literal, prose view 
 of Calvinism, and rejected doctrines which did not 
 commend themselves to his common-sense. In 
 a word he was a Unitarian of the old school. Dr. i 
 Channing he took no interest in, and less than none 
 in Theodore Parker. Emerson on the one side and 
 Abner Kneeland on the other were about equally far 
 from his sympathies. He was no philosopher. He 
 was no reformer. Political preaching was his aver- 
 sion ; and by political preaching he meant any kind 
 
102 BOSTON UNITARIANISM, 
 
 of preaching that dealt with subjects in party dis- 
 j)ute. But he went to meeting constantly, and was 
 always in his pew on Thanksgiving and Fast days. 
 He supported the Gospel faithfully in town or in the 
 country ; respected ministers ; honored the Sabbath. 
 He loved plain, direct sermons, addressed to the 
 heart and conscience. He heard R. W. Emerson. 
 James Walker, F. H. Hedge, William H. Furness, 
 Henry Ware, Jr., but he praised much Greorge Put- 
 nam, and E. S. Gannett, liking power that did not 
 run to enthusiasm. But anybody who wore " the 
 cloth " he accepted in silence when he could not ap- 
 plaud. I find this entry made when he was thirty- 
 four years old, and not rich : 
 
 Paid Samuel Elliot, Esq., President of the Trans. Cong. 
 Charitable Society, $50 towards raisi::g a fund for the support 
 of the families of deceased clergymen. I cannot but wish my 
 worthy mother alive, to witness my respect in this small act 
 for that deserving order of men. She had their welfare much 
 at heart. 
 
 This may look like more consideration for his 
 mother than for the clergy, but to the end of his life 
 he preserved this old regard, even under what must 
 to him have been difficulties of a pretty serious 
 nature, for he was compelled to hear a good deal of 
 anti-slavery doctrine from his country minister. 
 But he said little about this, or indeed about any 
 thing connected with religion. His allusions to that 
 subject were few. His concerns were with this 
 world ; and the reality of the other, though regarded 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. IO3 
 
 "by him, must mingle with his daily affairs if it was 
 to be felt. There was no inconsistency, no break, 
 only the one was tangible, the other intangible. His 
 was a strong nature, which absorbed what it could, 
 and took the rest on trust, saying nothing about it. 
 In God, immortality, providence, he had implicit 
 faith, all the more that he was so silent and reserved 
 even in his own mind. He would not commit him- 
 self rashly to his private record. On one occasion, 
 when a relative came near losing his life by stepping 
 on the dock too soon from a ferry-boat, he ventured 
 to call the deliverance providential, as if, in ordinary 
 cases, that term ought not to be applied. Super- 
 natural interference with the customary laws that 
 regulated the world was not to be familiarly wel- 
 comed. It was there in heaven, but of its action he 
 knew nothing, and had no opinion. If others had 
 convictions, he was glad of it, but such thoughts as 
 he had he preferred to keep to himself. 
 
 The feeling of dependence on an Almighty Power, 
 of gratitude to a Beneficent Giver, is repeated every 
 year, as he reviews the past, and presents to his 
 mind a remembrance of good-fortune. The obliga- 
 tion to be just and generous, to consider those who 
 were less favored, to be humble, modest, charitable, is 
 perpetually before him, and always with some allusion 
 to his indebtedness to the Supreme Goodness, ac- 
 companied in many instances by expressions of self- 
 accusation. It is evident that the thought of God 
 had much to do with his liberality. The following 
 extracts are interesting on this point : 
 
104 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 I have one satisfaction in looking over the year, besides the 
 common one of growing rich, and that is the evidence of 
 having given away a little more than I have sometimes done. 
 In this, however, I have much to learn. One of the best 
 expressions of gratitude to God is to give to the helpless and 
 the needy. However meritorious we may be in the care of our 
 own families and habits, so long as we are wanting in charity 
 to the distressed, our work is but half done. How is it, then, 
 if I know so well what is right, that I no more regard it ? I 
 know of no other reply that can be made to this question than 
 this : that those who have been spending a life to get money, 
 and know the difficulty both of getting it and being without it, 
 place too high a value upon it, and cannot bring themselves, 
 at once, to part with it so easily as those who were born with 
 money, and whose knowledge leads to a more reasonable 
 estimate ; who view it rather as a means than an end. With 
 rich men it seems to be the object, not to stop when they have 
 enough to afford all the means of enjoyment, but to make every 
 exertion to add more while they fall short of any of their 
 friends. The race, therefore, has no goal. Is this best or not ? 
 It is a question not easy to solve. Without a stimulus we are 
 idle, and to be idle is generally to be more or less vicious. 
 
 I am worth enough to call forth my sincere expressions of 
 gratitude, and to excite a strong desire to impart to others a 
 portion of my abundance. I regret that I have no greater 
 share of such feelings. That I am wanting in them, I am 
 obliged to confess. Money rarely makes us better. 
 
 Evidently this man was not munificent by tempera- 
 ment. The more does such munificence as he had, 
 attest his faith. This is one of the offices of a sim- 
 ple, unadorned religion, to graft on the heart virtues 
 that would not otherwise be exhibited. It is a kind 
 of enforced idealism, imposing qualities the intrinsic 
 beauty of which might not be seen ; and thus main- 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. lOj 
 
 taining a liigli standard of character quite in advance 
 of spiritual growth. Eventually, far off in the 
 future, the time may arrive when souls will, of their 
 own accord, gravitate towards a large, noble, self- 
 forgetting humanity. But until that day dawns, the 
 ancient law of duty will be in force, and the Com- 
 mandments will be more potent than the Beatitudes. 
 It must be confessed that our friend was not one 
 of the open-handed, sunny, exuberant men. He did 
 not belong to the family of the '' Cheeribles." As it 
 was, there was more of pity for individual misfor- 
 tune than of sympathy with general misery, in his 
 composition. All the more credit to him that he 
 remembered the poor, the unfortunate, the sorrowful. 
 It must be borne in mind that he became more gen- 
 erous as he became more rich, which is not the 
 ordinary rule; that he was not rude or sour; that he 
 gave liberally when he thought the public interest 
 would be advanced ; that he gave to institutions of 
 learning and science. His family affections were 
 exceedingly strong. He had no dislike of poor rela- 
 tions ; on the contrary, he was glad to help them, 
 and was proud of their good conduct. There are 
 many evidences of his kindnesses to his cousins and 
 nieces, to those who were bound up in the same 
 bundle of life ; to those who had served him, or 
 been good to him. A few of these have been se- 
 lected as illustrating this phase of his disposition, an 
 unusual trait, that is more common in a simple than 
 in a complicated condition of society ; more usual once 
 
Io6 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 than now. His attacliment to brute beasts is very 
 striking. His compassion for mere poverty was not 
 profuse. Possibly lie feared decejition. Perhaps he 
 needed to be approached through his personal feel- 
 ings. At all events, there was no lack of generosity 
 when these were touched, and that these were 
 touched often there is evidence enough. Such en- 
 tries as these are frequent : 
 
 Presented to the family of the late Col. W — , who was an 
 officer in our Revolution, and who left his family poor and two 
 of his daughters deaf and dumb, $ioo. . . . 
 
 For a present, made to a young Doctor P — , who is 
 about to settle at Vassalboro', a most deserving young man 
 but not rich. . . . 
 
 Subscribed $2,000. for the relief of the starving poor in 
 Ireland, caused by the failure of their potato crop for two 
 years past. These poor wretches are stated as dying, in great 
 numbers, of hunger. . . . 
 
 For a subscription to the sufferers by fire at Fall River, 
 %Zoo. . . . 
 
 To Purser Rogers, to aid the friends of the crew of the 
 Grampus, sloop-of-war, young Captain Downes, lost at sea, 
 $100. . . . 
 
 To a poor man jiamed Wheeler, who saved a young woman, 
 a Miss Graves, a teacher, from drowning at the Locks in 
 Medford, at the hazard of his life, $30. . . . 
 
 For $150. which I have done myself the pleasure of giving 
 a kinswoman on her being married. ... 
 
 Mrs. C — G — is dead. This worthy old lady (75) was un- 
 able to support herself, being without property and very lame. 
 She had seen better days. For six years past I have contrib- 
 uted $1 a week. Others have done the like or more. . . . 
 
 On January i, 1806, I leased store No. 55 to Mr. J. D., for 
 seven years, at $1,600., a year, having his father as a surety. 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. lO/ 
 
 Three years, or a little more, have passed within which time 
 J — has failed in business ; and having a particular friendship 
 for Mr. D — , who has been made very unhappy by the failure 
 of his son, I have given up the lease and let the store anew for 
 $1,400., making a clear loss to me of about $800. . . . 
 
 For this sum, L 1706. 6t^ s., being what he owes me, and 
 which I have this day made him a present of, and given him a 
 receipt in full for, in consideration of the love I bear him, and 
 of his having been unfortunate. . . . 
 
 Paid Dr. J — W — , professor, to aid in his cabinet of 
 minerals, Cambridge, $50. . . . 
 
 Mr. B — does himself the pleasure to enclose to Mrs. T — 
 her note for $78, and to ask her acceptance of it. He is happy 
 in giving this small testimony of his respect for her, on various 
 accounts, but especially as being the mother of a young man 
 whose amiable manners and many virtues he shall ever hold in 
 fond remembrance. . . . 
 
 We, this day, came into the house formerly owned by Mr. 
 T — B — , who has been so unfortunate as to become a bank- 
 rupt. The house was mortgaged to me for its value, and in 
 the sale of the equity of redemption I had no competition. 
 Our going into it therefore is rather a thing of necessity. But 
 it is an excellent house, and we shall be charmed with it, but 
 for the disagreeable circumstance of obliging our friend B — 
 to give it up. We recognize, with gratitude, the happiness we 
 have enjoyed the past summer. No one circumstance seems 
 to have occurred to render it unpleasant. We have both been 
 well with our six children, my business has been pleasant to 
 me, the season has been uncommonly fine, and our friends all 
 about us seem to have shared with us in these great blessings. 
 Seasons of enjoyment so uninterrupted are unusual, and we 
 cannot expect a continuance of them. But should they be 
 afforded us, I hope we shall receive them with grateful hearts, 
 and remember that one of our leading duties and employments 
 under the smiles of Providence is " to do good and to com- 
 municate." . . , 
 
I08 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 The truth is that in putting him into this house my inten- 
 tion was to render the residue of his life a little more comfort- 
 able in this regard than it has been for some time past ; for he 
 has been obliged, for a long time, to make a remove about 
 every six months. And should I meet with no misfortune, my 
 design is not to charge him with house rent during his life. I 
 hope I shall be able to support so good a resolution. To think 
 that I can, derives to me a most sensible pleasure, for I feel 
 that my present situation has been owing to Mr. H — in a con- 
 siderable degree, and I should be wanting in common gratitude 
 not to recognize it now that he is old and needy. It affords 
 me pleasure that I have heretofore assisted him, and that I 
 still feel a disposition to do it. It would have been better had 
 I done this before ; but I could not find a house, and to make 
 up for it I have, with Mr. Stephen Gorham, paid his house rent 
 for more than twelve months past. . . . 
 
 I have concluded to charge no interest, nor any thing, for 
 my services as executor, for a period of nearly six years. This 
 trust has necessarily caused me much care, but it was my 
 determination, from the first, to receive no compensation but 
 the pleasure of serving the worthy family of a friend whom I 
 highly esteemed. This service is among those intended to 
 benefit my friends, and I trust I shall reflect upon it always 
 with the pleasure which generally arises from an attempt to do 
 good. . . . 
 
 If my accumulations do not sound so great as in some 
 former years, I have the pleasure to reflect that it is owing, 
 principally, not to my having made less, but to my having given 
 away more. . . . 
 
 Dear Sir : — Inclosed will be my check for $ioo. which I 
 have the pleasure of offering in aid of the funds of the Con- 
 gregational Charitable Society. Geo. Ticknor, Esq., Secretary. 
 
 For a donation to Harvard College, $10,000. . . . 
 
 For a present made to the Athenaeum, with a view to 
 enriching the library, and embellishing that favorite establish- 
 ment, $1,000. ... 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. IO9 
 
 Contributed towards the Agriculture Hall, Brighton, $100. . . 
 
 Boston, July 15, 1818. Dear Sir : — Inclosed will be found 
 my check on the Boston Bank for $200. My wish is that this 
 sum should be added to the permanent fund of the Massa- 
 chusetts Charitable Congregational Society. But should it be 
 thought better, by those who have the management of its 
 pecuniary concerns, to dispose of it in any other way, you have 
 my consent, . . . 
 
 This sum, $400. I make a present of to my kinsman, from 
 the great regard I have for him, and because he is not rich. , . 
 
 Medford, July 20, 1819. Dear Cousin : — I have under- 
 stood from one of your friends, that you are in doubt whether 
 to receive the college prize in a medal or in money, assigning 
 as a reason that you want the money to purchase books. Con- 
 sidering you as richly deserving both the one and the other, I 
 have great pleasure in sending you the enclosed $30, and in 
 congratulating you and your friends, on this honorable testi- 
 monial of merit from the first University in our country. . . . 
 
 The amount now standing in my books against my brother- 
 in-law, is $20,000. and this is the exact sum he owes me. I 
 have collateral security on his farm, his house, and his distillery, 
 and whenever he pays me the said $20,000. with interest from 
 the first day of April, 1810, I am to give up all these securities. 
 I say "interest from April ist," because I this day consented 
 to give to him all the back interest, out of affection to him and 
 his wife, and to encourage him in business. He has been 
 unfortunate, but is now doing well. I have no doubt he will 
 be a man of handsome property should his health be spared. 
 And he is so good a man I cannot describe the pleasure I take 
 in obliging him. It is now understood between us that he will 
 pay me the interest on the $20,000. quarterly ; and I have, this 
 day, written him a letter, which I consider as binding on me, 
 certifying that the interest is all settled up to the ist of April, 
 and that the principal is but $20,000. The interest which I 
 have given up to him is about $4,440. . . . 
 
 How happy I ought to feel that I have made it in my power 
 
no BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 to do an act of kindness to this magnitude ($6,997.50), to an 
 affectionate sister who, I am sure, would, in an exchange of 
 conditions, have done as much, and even more, for me ! . . . 
 
 For a balance of a kinswoman's account which I have this 
 day made her a present of, agreeably to my letter of this date, 
 which I have requested her to consider as a receipt in full, 
 
 $557.52- • • . 
 
 Dear Cousin : — As a small testimonial of my regard, I ask 
 your acceptance of the sum inclosed ; and I propose to myself 
 the pleasure of sending you a like sum once a quarter, for 
 twelve months. Should you, my cousin, be as much gratified 
 in receiving this little present as I am in making it, my purpose 
 will be fully answered. I am, very truly, etc. . . . 
 
 These extracts will prove that this man did not 
 live for himself alone, did not live for pleasure or 
 distinction. And if his gifts do not seem large when 
 measured by the criterion of to-day, or by his own 
 means, they were fully as great as the habit of the 
 time warranted. It was a frugal age. There was no 
 interpretation of charity but almsgiving, and that 
 was mainly private. The idea of humanity as a 
 whole, and of the individual's relation to it, was un- 
 familiar. But the notion that one might grind his 
 neighbors, or make dishonest gain from them, or be 
 indifferent to their condition, was forbidden both by 
 the Old and New Testaments, and though the circle 
 was limited in extent, care was taken that it should 
 not be empty. The present view is broader, but it 
 may be doubted whether conduct more noble com- 
 plies with the demand for good- will. Fortunes too 
 are much ampler than they used to be, and the sum, 
 though smaller, may be as large in proportion as it 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. HI 
 
 is now. The smaller donations were not given out 
 of an abundance, and the number of them was con- 
 siderable. 
 
 For several years Mr. Brooks served the State in 
 the Senate and the House of Representatives. He 
 did not relish political life, and at the close of each 
 session resolved to leave it. His scruples are ex- 
 plained in the extracts that follow. 
 
 This day ended the last session of my political year as a 
 Senator. I still say, as I did the last year, that I shall decline 
 another election, if I am thought of, not because I should not 
 be pleased with it if I had the necessary education, but be- 
 cause it prevents the choice of a much more proper man. I 
 confess the office has pleased me, because it has proved the 
 means of some useful knowledge and may be considered as an 
 honor conferred upon me, which never fails to be grateful. 
 But, on the other hand, it is a place which I cannot fill with- 
 out feeling my inferiority in point of talent, of information, 
 and of influence. After all the peculiar state of parties may 
 induce a request to go again, and my acceptance. I can freely 
 say, however, that I had rather decline. . . . 
 
 This day ends the fourth of my political life. It has been 
 passed more pleasantly, on the whole, than any former one. 
 Perhaps every year may render it more and more agreeable. 
 But this, instead of operating as a reason for wishing to be 
 elected again, ought to decide me at once to break off ; for at 
 this moment I am free to confess, however agreeably I have 
 spent my time, that I had much rather stay away than go again. 
 This, however, I may not be able always to say, and by and by 
 I may be left out by my fellow citizens, much to my mortifica- 
 tion. I am determined, therefore, to decline standing a candi- 
 date another year. I have indeed a hundred reasons, almost, 
 why I should not be a member of the Legislature. I have not 
 the education for it. I have no taste for it. I am not a violent 
 
112 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 party man. I have numerous calls on my time which do not 
 leave me a moment's leisure, but drive me on faster than com- 
 ports with my ease and comfort. But more than all this, I feel 
 myself to be in the place of a better man. More than twenty 
 in the town have, in every view, much greater pretensions than 
 I have, and to whom I believe it would be more grateful. . . . 
 
 I am brought to the close of another political year, com- 
 pleting five periods as Senator in the General Court. Last 
 year on this occasion I noted down that I should decline 
 another election. Some unexpected incident prevented my 
 adhering to the resolution. I now repeat the declaration that 
 I mean not to be a candidate again. Parties are so equal, how- 
 ever, and the difficulty of changing so great, that I am not 
 certain of having my inclination gratified. When I say it is my 
 wish not to go again, it is not because it gives me no pleasure ; 
 for I have been treated with great courtesy, and more respect 
 than, as a politician, I deserve. But I am not fitted for the 
 place. It belongs to others. Others ought to have it. It 
 would please them, perhaps, more than it does me. I have no 
 time to spare, while others have. I want to spend a little time, 
 too, in journeying, which could best be done while the Court is 
 sitting. Another thing is that, in my mind, the honor is not 
 very great. The best men in these times are not in place — 
 certainly not on one side. Men are chosen for politicians who 
 like myself, are too ignorant to undertake anything of the kind. 
 Some of our best men stand aloof. . . . 
 
 On Saturday, the 29th of Feb. ended my sixth political 
 year as a Senator from Suffolk, leaving me most thoroughly 
 sick and disgusted with democratic legislation. Where the re- 
 sponsibility is divided among several hundred men, they are 
 found to do things of which an individual would be ashamed. 
 
 This day closes my seventh political year, and here I mean 
 to stop. To have taken any part in politics, as a member of 
 the Legislature, was never my expectation, and I think I may 
 add, with truth, it was never my inclination ; and, although I 
 have been happy in it as any man could be in times like 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. I 1 3 
 
 these, yet various and strong reasons now occur why I should 
 from this time decline. I have been a Senator seven years, 
 which is as long, perhaps, as any man ought to keep in one 
 elective place. I was not educated for a politician, and there- 
 fore consider myself, whatever others may think, as filling a 
 place which might be much better occupied by some other 
 man. I may, if I continue, become fond of it, and then should 
 be very desirous of continuing, and mortified if dropped, 
 whereas I can quit now from inclination. This, as regards 
 my personal happiness and the interest of my family, is a most 
 important consideration, and, if I may judge from the effect 
 on others, ought, of itself, to determine me. Last of all, it is 
 a tax on my time, which I think, considering the busy life I 
 have spent, I ought no longer to pay. 
 
 The General Court rose yesterday, after a session of near- 
 ly fifty days. For the first time in my life I served this year as 
 a Representative from Boston, and I believe I have not been 
 absent from duty a single day of either session. I declined 
 receiving pay, having made up my mind to that at the time of 
 being chosen. On the whole, I have been as much gratified 
 with a seat in the House as I ever was with one in the Council 
 or Senate. They all have afforded me pleasure, though I have 
 not the smallest desire to engage again. 
 
 In January, 1821, he was appointed by the Senate 
 of Massachusetts chairman of a committee "to ex- 
 amine generally into the concerns of every lottery 
 now in operation in this Commonwealth." They 
 went to work at once, and reported on February 
 9th. The chairman enforced the conclusions of the 
 report in a clear, direct, convincing speech, which 
 had a powerful effect. He had been interested him- 
 self in lotteries to small amounts. I find half a 
 dozen entries of sums spent in the purchase of 
 
114 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 lottery tickets. This was a favorite and, it was 
 supposed, an innocent way of raising money for pub- 
 lic purposes. It had been resorted to by individuals 
 and by corporations of the highest respectability, 
 and without hesitation, for the furtherance of deserv- 
 ing enterprises, such as the construction of canals, 
 the building of bridges, the erection of college edi- 
 fices, the repair of beaches. Tickets for lotteries in 
 other States were freely and legally sold in Massa- 
 chusetts. 
 
 It was a species of charity, and was so regarded, 
 not a means of making money without working for 
 the gain. But a keen, practised, business eye saw at 
 once that it was a ruinous way of aiding good causes, 
 and the result of examination was more conclusive 
 on that point than the severest critic could have 
 supposed. There were three great lotteries in the 
 State, the Springfield Bridge Lottery, the Plymouth 
 Beach Lottery, and the Union Canal Lottery. The 
 last, its term having expired, applied for a renewal 
 of its charter; attention was therefore especially 
 fixed on this. It appeared that tickets of all classes 
 had been sold to the amount of $467,328. There 
 had been paid in prizes $406,497. Incidental ex- 
 penses of management called for $39,988 ; bad debts 
 were estimated at $24,315; interest on money bor- 
 rowed to pay prizes, the sum required not having 
 been raised, was charged $2,763. There was con- 
 sequently a heavy loss to the canal, and the buyers 
 of tickets had, instead of carrying out their inten- 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. IIJ 
 
 tion, been mulcted about half a million of dollars ! 
 The other concerns were investigated immediately 
 after, with a result less damaging, indeed, but suffi- 
 ciently so to discourage enterprises of this kind. 
 This was a fatal blo^v to the official reco^iition of 
 lotteries in Massachusetts. It was more than ten 
 years later, however, 1833, before the sale of lottery 
 tickets was forbidden, except of those that were 
 authorized by law. Then the moral question was 
 brought directly up by a fatal issue attending on 
 tkis sort of gambling. For gambling it had become, 
 a device for growing rich, by some turn of luck, as 
 one stands a chance of amassing sums at a gaming- 
 table, risking a little in the hope of drawing in 
 much. For this appears to be the chief difference 
 between gambling and other ventures largely depen- 
 dent on fortune. Gambling is trust in chance alone, 
 with the smallest admixture of skill, calculation, or 
 sagacity, whereas these rely for success on experience, 
 ability, industry, and foresight. The elements of 
 uncertainty are reduced to the lowest point possible. 
 A perfectly safe business is one that rules them 
 out altogether. Pure speculation must be of the 
 nature of gambling, and all that saves its reputation 
 is the human genius or knowledge or assiduity 
 that in the main accompany its triumphs. These 
 may fail to ensure victory. Luck may go against 
 them ; but they are honorable and prevail, whatever 
 may be their present destiny. In 1820, in Massachu- 
 setts, lotteries were not looked upon as a form of busi- 
 
 1/ 
 
Il6 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 ness, rather as a form of beneficence. There was no 
 rage for them. They did not inflame the popular 
 mind. Their improvidence was more conspicuous 
 than their turpitude. The greater was the merit of 
 warning against them for the welfare of society. 
 
 His interest in education, in temperance, in public 
 institutions of beneficence, is abundantly attested by 
 these records. The following entries are curious as 
 illustrating the kind of concern an individual might 
 take in every thing that was conducive to the 
 enlightenment of a community. They embrace all 
 subjects. 
 
 On the 28th inst. I was chosen President of the Massachu- 
 setts Congregational Charitable Society, instead of Hon. I. 
 Thorndike, deceased. This is a most excellent charity, and 
 less liable to abuse than any one, almost. Its funds amount 
 to nearly $60,000, the income of which is given to the widows 
 and children of deceased Congregationalist clergymen in 
 Massachusetts. The society consists of thirty members, one 
 half clergymen and the other laymen. . . . 
 
 Visited Rainsford Island, in steamboat, with Board of 
 Health, Governor, etc. A most delightful day. . . . 
 
 Dined at Faneuil Hall. Examinations of the schools. 
 Schools found in a very improving state. . . . 
 
 Committee visited State Prison to consider the expediency 
 
 of enlarging its bounds. Present, Mr. B , Mr. W , Mr. 
 
 T , Mr. H ; absent. Col. J . . . . 
 
 To Hon. Thos, Cary, to aid a printing press in Cincinnati 
 to oppose slavery, $100. . . . 
 
 Our national affairs are bad enough. We have waged a 
 most wicked, a most unjust, a most unnecessary war with 
 Mexico, from which we may not soon come out, and cannot 
 without a vast expense of blood and treasure. By all judicious 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. WJ 
 
 men this vile contest was uncalled for, and gives the adminis- 
 tration great dishonor and disgrace. . . . 
 
 Towards curing drunkards, $50. I hope the plan will suc- 
 ceed, but have my doubts. 
 
 It appears that this man did what he knew wouhl 
 be for the advantage of his fellow-men, even though 
 he felt no particular interest in it, and had no 23artic- 
 iilar faith in it himself. He was not a sanguine 
 person. But he did not make a phlegmatic disposi- 
 tion an excuse for practical indifference, or a ground- 
 work for contemj)t of others' efforts, but would lend 
 a hand, if he could not lend a heart. Such a nature is 
 not uncommon, but we do not often see such conduct. 
 Usually, a disposition like his, practical, without 
 impulse, enthusiasm, or imagination, inclined to 
 skepticism in regard to human motives, goes dog- 
 gedly on its way, pushing claims aside, letting affairs 
 run along in their own way, looking out for the 
 main chance, and satisfied if it can keep on the 
 prosperous side. 
 
 He was never satisfied with himself, felt his 
 responsibility, thought he should do more, and threw 
 out his crust of bread with a sort of surly good-will, 
 as if he recognized more duties than he discharged. 
 There is something affecting in such a character, 
 struggling, as it were, against its limitations, with the 
 best of intentions, but vnth a feeble faith, having 
 the weal of the community in mind, but painfully 
 aware that it could effect nothing except on the plane 
 of unideal achievement, where alone it was strong. 
 
Il8 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Mr. Brooks was true to himself, sincere, simple, or- 
 dering his life according to his own ideas, without 
 ^' regard to the fashions around him. 
 
 His dress cost him little. His table was plain, 
 substantial, bountiful. There was always wine with 
 the meats. He rose early in the morning, always 
 went out in summer before breakfast, was scrupulous 
 about his private habits, kept regular hours, and 
 indulged in no injurious excitements. His tastes 
 were frugal, his wishes easily satisfied. One smiles 
 to think how little was sufficient for comfort and 
 happiness in those days, when existence was unam- 
 bitious and solid. How charmingly innocent all 
 this sounds to-day, when people are so full of pride 
 and emulation ! 
 
 I may deceive myself, but I think I am worth more than 
 \ $300,000.; and if so, there is more danger of my having too 
 much than too little. It will not do me nor my family more 
 good, perhaps, if so much, as one-half the sum. I am now 
 thirty-six years old. When I was twenty-one I was not worth one 
 hundred dollars in the world, excepting, perhaps, a small patri- 
 mony. How the residue of my life will be spent, after settling 
 my accounts, I cannot at present pretend to decide. Perhaps 
 it would be better for us and our children if I had not half so 
 much. Few can behave with propriety under a change so 
 sudden and considerable. God grant that I may be one of 
 those few ! . . . 
 
 Took down my boathouse. I concluded, years ago, not to 
 keep a boat any longer. I had no fondness for it myself, nor 
 did I wish my children to have, for fear of accident, and 
 a habit of idleness ; and it caused a great deal of care. All 
 these things I ought to have considered before I spent th'" 
 money. I was in error, and while I acknowledge it fr'- 
 
THE UNITARIAN LA YMAN. I 1 9 
 
 I wish I had never committed a greater. The boat, like a 
 thousand other things, disappointed me. I thought it would 
 afford pleasure to us and our friends, but it did neither. . . . 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. W on a visit of a day and night. Mr. W 
 
 and I rode over to Waltham factory, and through the grounds 
 
 of Mr. L . Highly delighted with his grounds, and less 
 
 delighted with my own. 
 
 His affections were natural. He loved his wife, his 
 childi'en, his home, his friends, and took an interest 
 in what concerned them. He was domestic, kind, 
 friendly, in an' unostentatious, unaffected manner. 
 This man had deep roots. He was affected by sen- ^^ 
 timental changes, and showed his emotion by his 
 silence. The following extracts touch the heart : 
 
 Perhaps there never was a family who agreed better than 
 ours, or who loved each other more. I never knew the time, 
 for a single moment, that either the mother or the children 
 were estranged from each other, or observed the least coolness : 
 on the contrary, there was always exercised the utmost affection 
 and tenderness. . . . 
 
 Had it not been for the untimely loss of our dear, dear 
 little girl, the season would have been a most agreeable one ; 
 but this loss was so extremely painful as to deprive us of all 
 happiness. . . . 
 
 Since that time we have been called upon to part with one 
 of our dear children, and that in a way of all others, perhaps, 
 the most afflictive. Our little A. B., aged seventeen months, 
 one of the most lovely babies that we ever had, was scalded on 
 one of her arms on Monday the 8th of June, and continued 
 till Tuesday following, the i6th, when she died, having suf- 
 fered extremely the whole time. Had this dear child died 
 from ordinary sickness, we should have felt the loss most 
 severely, for she was indeed so pretty and good a child, and 
 
I20 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 withal so healthy, as never to have caused her parents a tear 
 but once ; but to be taken away in the shocking manner she 
 was, was almost insupportable, and what we cannot forget for 
 a long time. . . 
 
 Poor little boy ! while reason would satisfy us, considering 
 the innocence of his life, and our religious hopes, that it is 
 better for him, and we ought not to wish him back, yet passion 
 and feeling, and the recollection of his sufferings, cannot for a 
 long time be overcome or reconcile us to his loss. He was 
 indeed a lovely boy, and it cannot, we hope, be wrong to 
 mourn for him. Does it make any difference that we have 
 many children left ? Oh, no ! . . . 
 
 In the settlement of my father's estate, the sons had twice 
 as much as the daughters, agreeably to the will. But although 
 in old times the law gave more to sons, and my worthy father 
 might, from law and usage, have deemed it, as doubtless he 
 did, to be perfectly correct, yet at this day I cannot think so, 
 and therefore have now made J — equal to myself. 
 
 After tliis liis interest for homely things can be 
 taken for granted. He was fond of agriculture ; he 
 watched the weather ; he rejoiced in the early spring 
 birds, hailing the warmer season with their musical 
 notes. 
 
 The robins have eaten up all our cherries. It is dis- 
 couraging, but we seem to have no remedy short of shooting 
 them, and that we cannot do. The birds give us great pleas- 
 ure, and we must make up our minds that we cannot have 
 song and cherries too, and there is an end. 
 
 He was attracted to the horses that had done him 
 service, and parted from them with pain. To have 
 them killed when useless gave him a pang. 
 
 He was not an anti-slavery man ; far from it. He 
 would not have been liad he lived later, ^vdlen the 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. 121 
 
 agitation had fairly begun. But he belonged to the 
 party of progress. He was at bottom a Republican, 
 and though he did not believe in the blacks, he 
 believed in an equality of the whites, and desired for 
 all freemen a fair chance. On travelling through 
 Connecticut, he remarks: 
 
 It is, I think, a most valuable and highly cultivated tract 
 of country, and exhibits an equality of condition as respects 
 its inhabitants, which cannot fail to please a man of republican 
 notions. 
 
 He subscribed for a teacher of blacks, in 1809, 
 and he treated both races, when dependent, with the 
 same kindness. 
 
 To this universal good-will there is absolutely no 
 exception. His courtesy was perfect. In that species 
 of humanity he was really an example. He always 
 returned salutation in form to every one who saluted 
 him. On one occasion, when an old, gossiping, gar- 
 rulous black man came to see him, on being sum- 
 moned, he brought a chair, asked his visitor to sit, 
 talked with him pleasantly during his stay, bade 
 him a polite good-by at the front door, then care- 
 fully wiped the seat and put it back in its place ; 
 thus testifying at once his urbanity toward the 
 human being and his sense of the inferiority of the '^ 
 class to which he belonged. He could not but be 
 courteous, but neither could he forget that there 
 were ranks in society. 
 
 In fact, he remembered this faithfully, but in an 
 innocent way, never allowing his respect for rank to 
 
122 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 overrule his steadfast honor for integrity. Titles 
 without service could not command his reverence. 
 There must be a basis of vrork. If he loved a lord, 
 j)aid his court to a governor, admired a dignitary,, 
 there was a reason for it, and that reason Avas manly„ 
 When Lord Ashburton came to this country as a 
 special ambassador, Mr. Brooks called at the Tremont 
 House, and was flattered by the friendly recognition, 
 but all the time, it appeared that the nobleman was 
 looked up to as "a blessing to England and the 
 United States, in bringing about a treaty between 
 the two nations." He was convinced that " the 
 Queen could not have sent a better man." A warmer 
 tribute was paid to William Gray, the famous mer- 
 chant, and to other civilians whose virtues had won 
 his esteem ; and if he seemed to set a high value on 
 external dignity, it may have been because of the 
 attention it drew. 
 
 It will be divined that asceticism was not in fashion 
 one hundred years ago. Far from it. The old man 
 went to the theatre two or three times to see some 
 favorite actor or popular play. There are two men- 
 tions of a dinner without wines. But this kind of 
 abstinence was not common, though temperance was 
 the rule in respectable company. There is a long 
 list of wines in the cellar of the country home, where 
 the most important dinners were given. Though it 
 would hardly match the delicacy of our modern days, 
 yet its abundance will not be disputed. 
 
 Every thing like excess in eating and drinking 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. 1 23 
 
 was regarded with aversion. That it was the custoni 
 to give large dinners is evident, and great prepara- 
 tions were made for them. But the amount of sor- 
 mandizing was by no means in proportion to the 
 bountifulness of the repast. 
 
 The dinners of this period, though less elegant 
 and delicate than ours, were as elaborate. Waiters 
 were hired. Cooks were provided. There were 
 several courses : soup, fish, meats, game, pastry, 
 fruits. The household were active in making ready. 
 Hours were spent in feasting, the conversation was 
 brilliant, wit and anecdote flew round much in the 
 English style, though, of course, with a profusion 
 that belongs to a new country rather than an old. 
 
 There was a cordial reverence for intellect among v^ 
 our grandfathers. They probably read as much as 
 we do, considering the number of books and the 
 facilities of procuring them. Literature was not 
 copious in those times, neither was it cheap. There 
 was no easy or frequent communication with 
 Europe, or even England, as there is now. Books 
 of travel were very rare, as indeed travellers were. 
 There were histories and poems, volumes of philos- 
 ophy and sermons, tracts and biographies. If one 
 had no speculative tastes, liked concrete, practical 
 things the choice was narrow ; still, cultivation was 
 held in high honor. Brains were uppermost. The 
 libraries that used to be collected, filled with volumes 
 "that no gentleman's shelves should be without," — 
 Hume, and Smollett, and Johnson, and Shakespeare, 
 
124 BOSTON UNITAKIAXISM. 
 
 and Milton, — tliouo;li these were little read, was a 
 ^ testimony to the value set upon talent. And when 
 the books, though few, which were selected for their 
 utility or because they expressed individual character, 
 surrounded a man, the tribute to literature was pretty 
 strong. That such were chosen these records show, 
 and those were read. They at least represented 
 something beside ostentation. When a certain fine 
 house was building in New York, a few years ago, 
 the architect took me over it. There was every 
 thing that luxury could suggest in the way of floors, 
 furniture, inlaid woods, marble lintels, draperies. 
 Oriental rugs, carvings, bronzes, mosaics, but there 
 was no provision for the mind. A beautiful library- 
 room stretched along one side of the spacious dwell- 
 ing, but there were no cases, and no walls for any. 
 In the evening light streamed down from above 
 through stars of glass aflame with electric splendor, 
 but this was for society, not for study. " Where are 
 the shelves ? " I asked my companion. " Oh ! " he 
 answered, "we have not come to that. It was as 
 
 much as I could do to persuade Mr. to have a 
 
 library-room. He is a business man." In former 
 days there were books at least. A mute tribute was 
 paid to learning, and in most cases there was some- 
 thing more. 
 
 Mr. Brooks attended lectures also, and on subjects 
 far aloof from his daily pursuits. He heard Ralph 
 Waldo Emerson on " The Philosophy of History " ; 
 James Walker on " Transcendentalism and Phrenol- 
 
 -xl 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. I 25 
 
 ogy." He was fond of getting men of intellect 
 about him and listening to their talk. He was 
 intimate with the best minds, invited scholars and 
 statesmen to his table. For works of imagination, 
 poems and the like, he did not care. There was no 
 art in America, either native or foreign, and if there 
 had been it is doubtful if he would have been in 
 sympathy with it, for he was not an aesthetic person. 
 Music had no charms for him. There is no mention 
 of instrument or song. But it is interesting to notice 
 how much remains when these are banished, how 
 much mind there is left, how deep a furrow one can 
 plough without these modern inventions, how much 
 can be done with an old Jack-knife, if one has nothing 
 else. 
 
 No doubt, according to our definition, he was a 
 Conservative ; that is, he was not an Abolitionist, or 
 a woman's-rights advocate, or a radical Republican ; 
 he could not answer questions before they were 
 asked. His early years had been passed amid the 
 events of the Revolution and the subsequent at- 
 tempts to form a government. Then came the war 
 of 1812, with what went before and what followed. 
 And when this was over the original bent of his 
 nature, which was averse to every thing violent or 
 revolutionary, was so confirmed that no excitement 
 could reach him. Yet he was a Unitarian and a 
 Whig, thus belonging to the advanced parties in 
 religion and politics, and went as far as they did 
 sixty years ago. He believed in Dr. Channing and 
 
126 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Daniel Webster, and there stopped with the most 
 stubborn conviction. 
 
 " God," said Mr. Emerson " never sends premature 
 ideas." Certainly He did not in this instance. 
 There is no allusion to Garrison or Phillips or 
 Sumner, to the Free-Soil party, or the higher law. 
 If he had been a moral enthusiast he could not have 
 helped showing his predilections. But he was not 
 a moral enthusiast. He was not an intuitive charac- 
 ter. He was a friend of law and order. He pro- 
 fessed no philosophy but common-sense. 
 
 But his conservatism was not based upon position 
 or money or success in the world. It rested upon 
 ideas and upon force of conviction, prejudice it may 
 be, but prejudice founded in judgment. There was 
 limitation, but not assumption ; narrowness, but not 
 conceit ; rigidity, but not vainglory. He was born 
 in a democracy, and accepted its principles ; but if 
 he had been born under king or queen he would 
 have been content with his lot, not feeling himself 
 in bondage, or at all restrained in his activity, 
 though, if his opinion were asked, he would have 
 expressed a preference for republican institutions 
 over monarchical. As a self-made man, he must have 
 believed in the capacity of the j^eople to govern 
 themselves. His faith was in character, not in theory, 
 and as theoiy comes a good while before character 
 the believer in the last will never be a reformer. 
 
 At the end of this long chapter, in which, after 
 all, full justice is not done to Mr. Brooks' charming 
 
THE UNITARIAN LAYMAN. 12/ 
 
 urbanity, or tlie delightful Sunday evenings spent at 
 his liouse by bright people, there is scanty room to 
 tell of the generosity that was displayed by the 
 Unitarian laity in general, both men and women. 
 They all had a genuine desire to render the earthly 
 lot of mankind more tolerable. It is not too much 
 to say that they started eveiy one of our best secular 
 charities. The town of Boston had a poor-house, 
 and nothing more until the Unitarians initiated hu- 
 mane institutions for the helpless, the blind, the 
 insane. The Massachusetts General Hospital, the 
 McLean Asylum, the Perkins Blind Asylum, the 
 Female Orphan Asylum, of which Madame Prescott 
 was president, — an institution that my father was 
 very much devoted to and visited often, — were of 
 their devising. They were exceedingly liberal in 
 their gifts to Harvard College, and to other colleges 
 as well, — for they were not at all sectarian, as their 
 large subscriptions to the Roman Catholic Cathedral 
 proved. Whatever tended to exalt humanity, in 
 their view, was encouraged. They were as noble a 
 set of men and women as ever lived. My single 
 example illustrates them all, in its best traits too. 
 
 The married life of Mr. Frothingham was exceed- 
 ingly happy, the wife's plain common -sense being an 
 admirable complement to his poetical temperament. 
 Her death, which occurred in the summer of 1864, 
 was the first severe blow he was called to sustain. 
 How severe will appear from the following little 
 poem, the beauty of which may excuse its personality. 
 
128 BOSTON UNITARIAXISM. 
 
 MADONNA. 
 
 The centre of my life, one summer morn, 
 
 Melted from earth into the brightening sky ; 
 
 From that time forth its visible round was shorn, 
 Narrowing and fading on the wasting eye. 
 
 As if no outward scene would care to stay 
 
 After that inmost presence passed away. 
 
 Oh, daunt me not, ye shadows, as ye fall 
 Thicker each day upon my sight and brain, 
 
 At thoughts of blank dependence and the pall 
 Of utter night, and craze that 's more than pain ! 
 
 Hide the last ray that guides my footsteps' course. 
 
 But spare the wandering thoughts their steadying force. 
 
 The fatal loss went first. O shade of her 
 Who shone upon my life, its love and saint, 
 
 Grow not thou dark to me ! Still minister 
 To my lone spirit, burdened down and faint. 
 
 Veiled now her very image ; but the heart 
 
 Still looks and yearns and moans, and will not part 
 
YIL 
 
 THE OLD WORLD. 
 
 The old world was by no means strange to the 
 earlier Unitarian clergy. Mr. Buckminster liad 
 travelled there in 1806; Francis Parknian had at- 
 tended theological lectures at Edinburgh in 1810; 
 Frederic Henry Hedge had studied at Ilfeld and 
 Schulpforte in 1818 ; Edward Everett had gone 
 abroad in 1815 to qualify himself for his duties as 
 Greek professor at Harvard College. Europe was 
 synonymous with art and beauty and civilization 
 of the aristocratic sort. There were the palaces and 
 cathedrals and galleries and museums. There were 
 the historic cities and fields. There were the 
 great collections of books. There was Athens, and 
 Rome, and Wittenberg, and Worms, and Oxford. 
 There were the Alps and the mountains of the 
 Tyrol, and the plain of Lombardy, and the Italian 
 lakes. But the new world was consecrated to hu- 
 manity. The American always came back, and was 
 glad to come, not merely because America was his 
 home, and the dwelling-place of his fathers, but 
 because he could breathe freely there. England was 
 
 Q I2Q 
 
130 BOSTON UNITARIAXISM. 
 
 still remembered as his enemy ; Grermauy was almost 
 unknown ; France was associated -vvith revolution ; 
 Italy was dominated by the papacy ; Austria was 
 but another name for despotism; the East was a 
 ruin. Then the old world was far oft* and hard 
 to get at. Travellers across the Atlantic Ocean were 
 few, and the continent was lonely. Railroads were 
 unbuilt and voyaging was slow and difficult. States 
 were cut oft from states by vexatious impositions. 
 There was no common coinage, no common law or 
 usage. The soldier was eveiywhere, the police offi- 
 cer, the priest. Europe was more picturesque than 
 it is now, but far less comfortable. It was different 
 from this country in every respect. The change 
 was complete of language, custom, dress, climate. 
 Here all might be crude, but we had gained in inde- 
 pendence, we had won opportunity. The material 
 for every thing good was ours. Whatever man could 
 do was within our grasp. The sentiment of the 
 American is expressed in the following lines written 
 by my father during his first absence. 
 
 A SUNSET IN ITALY. 
 
 Whence do the vSpirits of the Air 
 
 Breathe gentlest, kindliest ? 
 When their wind-harps and balm they bear 
 
 From their chambers in the West. 
 
 When glow the many-colored skies 
 
 In their richest beauty drest ? 
 When the sunset flings its gorgeous dyes 
 
 O'er its curtains in the West. 
 
THE OLD WORLD. I3I 
 
 Like that soft air to a weary brow, 
 
 And the throbs of an anxious breast, 
 Come thoughts of the dear and distant now 
 
 From the home that 's in the West. 
 
 Like those fair skies, where to fancy's sight 
 
 Float forms as of spirits blest. 
 Seems the golden gleam of each dear delight, 
 
 That dwells there in the West. 
 
 O land, of all that bright orb gilds 
 
 The freest, happiest, best ! 
 Take me back from the pomp of these blushing fields 
 
 To thy proud shores in the West. 
 
 In the summer of 1826, spent with care and 
 afflicted by violent headaches that came weekly, 
 with terrible regularity, Mr. Frothingham sailed for 
 Havre in the packet ship Louis for a year of recrea- 
 tion. The voyage lasted thirty days. From Havre 
 to Paris, a distance of one hundred and sixty-two 
 miles, was a journey of thirty hours. Florence was 
 four days from Venice. From Florence to Rome 
 was six days and a half, at the rate of a little more 
 than thirty miles a day. From Lyons to Paris, by 
 way of Moulins and Fontainebleau, was a weary ride 
 of four days and almost as many nights. But this 
 leisurely travelling had its advantages in enabling 
 the tourist to see the country and to stop at pretty 
 places that people now are whirled through. Here 
 is a picture, for instance, of Terracina, the old, dark 
 town on the edge of the Pontine Marshes, which is 
 never seen in our days. 
 
132 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 " The next morning we crossed the Pontine 
 Marshes on an excellent road that was thrown across 
 there by Pius YI., and came down in the evening to 
 Terracina. This place is close under the mountains 
 that, a few years ago, were so celebrated as the 
 haunts of banditti. It was three months and a half 
 since I had been in sight of the full sea, and there 
 was the Mediterranean Just after a storm thro"\ving 
 up its spray over the very road we travelled. The 
 sun was making a glorious set. The little old city of 
 Terracina, formerly a town, was on the hill behind 
 us, and the boldest height, perfectly inaccessible on 
 this side, was crowned with a veiy imposing ruin, 
 said to have been the palace of Theodoric the Goth. 
 To complete the picture, a tall palm-tree lifted up its 
 singular branches like an enormous plume above all 
 the rest, seeming to paint itself on the sky." 
 
 The travellers were up early, often at dawn of 
 day, and there was a great deal of walking, — fifteen, 
 twenty, in one instance over thirty miles in a day, — 
 with knapsack on back, and over steep mountains. 
 ^^ My father always walked when he could, sometimes 
 going in advance of the diligence, thus paying for 
 the privilege of using his feet. All the shorter 
 excursions — to Tivoli, to St. Denis, to St. Germain, 
 were made on foot. He went everywhere. He saw 
 every thing. He ascended Vesuvius. He tramped 
 about Pompeii. He hated Naples, but spent hours 
 in the museum. Rome disappointed him, though 
 he was never tired of St. Peter's. 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 133 
 
 "November 19tli. Yesterday was a great day at 
 the cliurcli, tlie anniversary of its dedication. Of 
 course I attended tlie ceremony. A great many 
 strangers were there, especially of the English, who 
 swarm here in Rome. Service was performed in 
 one of the side chapels, which are all, of themselves, 
 so many magnificent churches. It consisted chiefly 
 of music. There were two organs, played in con- 
 cert on opposite sides of the chapel; and two choirs, 
 of fifteen or twenty persons each, sung at the very 
 top of their voices. The show was splendid. Eleven 
 cardinals in full dress were in their places. The 
 papal guards in the Spanish costume, such as it was 
 in the days of the Armada, kept the people in order 
 with their pikes. Ecclesiastical dresses of all de- 
 scriptions were there to be seen. A cardinal with a 
 retinue of inferior clergy officiated at the altar. But, 
 after all, there was no solemnity in it. The Roman 
 worship is an unintellectual, unaffecting thiug when 
 you have made the most of it. All the pomp in the 
 world cannot render it otherwise. The music was 
 as good as the opera, and inspired about the same 
 feelings. The show was not so good as it is there. 
 When a parcel of people are engaged about as many 
 wax lights in bowing and marching to and fro and 
 shaking a censer, and call it worship, it is all one to 
 my feelings whether they are dressed in silver robes 
 or a brown coat. When half a dozen tall men do 
 nothing by the half-hour together but take off a 
 bishop's mitre and put it on again, it does not make 
 
134 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 tlie least difference to me that the mitre is blazing 
 with real jewels. . . . Here is a city that has 
 ruled the world twice, — at first by its arms and 
 afterward by its doctrine, and now there is no place 
 on earth that makes one think so humbly of human 
 power, and so contemj^tuously of human opinion." 
 
 If Naples was dirty, and Rome reminded him of 
 the " emptiness of grandeur " and the " transientness 
 of fortune," Paris was a ceaseless entertainment. 
 He went to St. Denis, St. Cloud, Viucennes, Ver- 
 sailles. He ascended all the towers, admired the 
 statues, walked in the gardens. Here is a pretty 
 scene : 
 
 " The king had a play in his private theatre on 
 Saturday evening, and I was so much favored as to 
 receive a billet of admission. This was through the 
 kind and unsolicited attention of the American Am- 
 bassador, who sent me one of the only two tickets 
 that were placed at his disposal. The theatre was 
 filled from the floor to the ceiling, and with such a 
 shining company as, of course, my republican eyes 
 liad never been laid on before. Great numbers of 
 the French nobility were present, and there was 
 a profusion of diamonds and laced coats, you may 
 depend. The entrance of the Royal Family and 
 their coterie was taken notice of in no other way 
 than by the general rising of the assembly, and 
 as soon as all were seated the comedy began. The 
 stage, however, was of small concern to me, whose 
 attention Avas taken up in examining the actors who 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 1 35 
 
 did not belong behind the scenes, and especially his 
 Majesty, the Duke and Duchess of Angouleme, and 
 the Duchess of Berri. King Charles is a good- 
 natured, simple-looking man, who laughed heartily 
 at the good things that were said and done, blew his 
 nose with a colored silk handkerchief, and made a 
 snuff-brush of his coat sleeve. The Dauphin is an 
 ordinary personage, who occupied himself chiefly in 
 quizzing the company through an opera-glass. The 
 daughter of Marie Antoinette is a woman of coarse 
 appearance, without the least grace or dignity." 
 
 Hence he went to Brussels, Antwerp, Utrecht, 
 Amsterdam, a city not much to his mind. "It 
 began to be built only five or six hundred years 
 ago, on a quagmire that was not worth rescuing 
 from the ocean, and, for aught I see, it is likely, 
 within the same number of years, to be given back 
 to the sea again. Its hackney-coaches are, for the 
 most part, mounted on sleds instead of wheels, that 
 the mud foundations of the town may not be too 
 much shaken. Their sledges are drawn painfully 
 along by a single horse, and the driver, if he may be 
 ■called so, walks by the side carrying a grease bag 
 for the runners instead of a whip for the horse." 
 He was interested in all the places of historical fame 
 in Holland, — Haarlem, Ley den, The Hague, Delft, 
 Dort, — and from thence sailed to England. There 
 he was as indefatigable as he had been in Switzer- 
 land, Italy, France, — wherever he happened to be. 
 He got up early and tramped about in his heavy 
 
136 BOSTOiV UNITARIANISM. 
 
 shoes. He mounted to the top of the Monument in 
 London while the custom-house officers were search- 
 ing the luggage, and, day after day, went mousing 
 round in search of sights. His activity of mind 
 and heart is unceasing ; he goes everywhere, and 
 wherever he goes he makes reflections. Westmin- 
 ster Abbey greatly impresses him, both outside and 
 inside, all but the tombs. " Henry Vllth's chapel 
 is the most exquisite specimen of Gothic architecture 
 that I have seen," he says ; but the gloom of the 
 monuments is oppressive to him. Here is a charac- 
 teristic touch : 
 
 " I hate a gi'eat parade of sepulchral marbles shut 
 away from the light and air of heaven, under stone 
 arches as proud and cold and dismal as themselves. 
 All this produces in me no emotion but the wish to 
 get out as soon as I can. I connect the show with 
 no ideas that touch me. It is merely gloomy. 
 
 The pillared arches are overhead, 
 
 And under foot are the bones of the dead, 
 
 and this is the whole about it. All is stone and 
 stone where all is not dust. For my own part, I 
 love to associate the remains of mortality w4th the 
 thousand living forms of eternal nature, with the 
 green sod and the fresh flowers, and every thing 
 that springs out of the ground into which man has 
 descended. Let there be monuments, if you will. 
 The more the better. The handsomer the better. 
 But do let the sun shine upon them, and the air 
 breathe upon them. Let me see above them the 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 1 3/ 
 
 clouds that are as fleeting as man's life, or the stars 
 that are as immortal as his destiny, and then I can 
 bind together my thoughts properly ; then I begin 
 to feel." 
 
 Cambridge, Windsor, Eton, Hampton Court, Rich- 
 mond Hill, were steps in his progress. He walked 
 from Windsor to Stow, from London to Richmond. 
 Then he went to Winchester, Southampton, Netley 
 Abbey, the Isle of Wight, Salisbury, Stonehenge, 
 Bath, Bristol, Chepstow (by steamer at seven in the 
 morning), Tintern Abbey, Oxford, Woodstock, 
 Blenheim, Stratford-on-Avon, where he lingered and 
 mused and wrote the lines to " Shakespeare's Mul- 
 berry Tree " (printed in the First Series of the 
 " Metrical Pieces " ), Warwick, Coventry, Leicester, 
 Nottingham, Sheffield, Leeds, York, Newcastle. This 
 was the last of England. Then Scotland opened its 
 wonders. 
 
 At Edinburgh he did his whole duty : made him- 
 self familiar with the old town and the new, visited 
 the tombs of Hume and Burns at Calton burial- 
 ground, went over Holyrood Palace, saw a parade 
 at the Castle, walked up to Arthur's Seat and Salis- 
 bury Crags before breakfast, and paid his respects to 
 Sir Walter Scott, who, in answer to his note, wrote 
 a few pleasant lines bidding him welcome as an 
 American and a clergyman ; went to Roslin Castle 
 and Hawthornden. From Edinburgh he travelled 
 by mail-coaches to Stirling ; walked to Dover (eight 
 miles) ; took the coach to Callander ; walked ten 
 
138 BOSTON UNITARIAA'ISM. 
 
 miles, starting at four o'clock in tlie morning, to tlie 
 Trosachs, stopping by the way at the spots made 
 famous by Scott's poems — Coilantogle Ford, Loch 
 Vennachar; walked across the mountains to Aber- 
 foyle (five and a half miles) ; sauntered, the next 
 day, with a pleasant party, through the Trosachs to 
 Loch Katrine ; was rowed ten miles up the lake ; 
 walked five miles to Inverness, and took the steamer 
 on Loch Lomond to Glasgow, seeing all that was 
 remarkable by the way. After Glasgow, where he 
 was by no means idle, he journeyed through Lanark- 
 shire, Ayrshire, Mthsdale, Carlisle, Penrith, West- 
 moreland, Preston, to Liverpool. A dull day was 
 passed at Manchester. Then to Chester and Wales. 
 At the vale of Clwyd he took tea with Mrs. Hemans, 
 who wrote him, before sailing, the follo-wing pleasant 
 letter : 
 
 St. Asaph, July 2d, 
 Dear Sir : 
 
 I regret that it is not in my power to give you all the trouble 
 I had intended ; some books which I had proposed entrusting 
 to your care for Mr. Norton not having yet been returned by 
 a friend who had borrowed them. I cannot, however, allow 
 you to cross the Atlantic without bearing with you my best 
 wishes for your prosperous voyage, and my hopes that you may 
 find all the little faces by whose smile you expect to be greeted 
 as bright and blooming as — allow my maternal vanity to say — 
 those of my own boys, with whom you made so speedy an 
 acquaintance. I was not without hopes that you might have 
 returned this way, having very kindly wished you contrary 
 winds and all sorts of contretems to prevent your visiting 
 -Dublin, in which case I might have looked for the gratification 
 
rilE OLD WORLD. 1 39 
 
 -of again seeing you here ; but I am not Noma of the Fitful 
 Head, or you should have had a storm raised to drive you back 
 to St. Asaph. 
 
 You will, I am sure, do me the justice to tell my kind friends 
 in New England of the deep and affectionate interest with 
 which I speak and think of them. I believe that a day hardly 
 ever passes in which the names of Mr. and Mrs. Norton are 
 not mentioned with grateful regard at Rhyllon. I should wish 
 my kindest respects also to be offered to Dr. Channing, and 
 to Mr. Bancroft the assurance of our frequent remembrance. 
 Should any friend of yours be likely to visit my own vale of 
 Clwyd, be assured of the pleasure I shall have in showing my 
 regard for your country, by attention such as may be in my 
 power, to his children. And believe me, dear sir, with a 
 gratifying recollection of the hours lately passed in your society, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Felicia Hemans. 
 
 This letter was received in Boston, whither it 
 was directed. Aftei* leaving Mrs. Hemans, the 
 wonders of Wales and the " picturesqueness " of 
 Dublin were surveyed ; a few days were passed 
 with friends in Liverpool, and on the 2d of July he 
 was on board the Mancliester. The homeward pas- 
 sage lasted fifty-two days. The trip was, in every 
 respect, successful. Health had been excellent all 
 the time. A good many agreeable people had been 
 met, some distinguished ones, among them General 
 Lafayette, who called on him in Paris and wrote him 
 two very kindly notes. He had heard the chief 
 singers in the world; had seen the most eminent 
 actors and actresses. He attended theatres and 
 churches in every cit\% and sought the spots where 
 
I40 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 there was a chance to be amused. He had enjoyed 
 and reflected much, and been enlarged ; but the sigh, 
 for New England light and liberty was incessant. In 
 one of his letters from Rome he says : 
 
 " Of all the cities I have seen I should say that 
 Venice was that for romance, Florence for the arts, 
 Rome for recollections, Geneva for scenery, and Paris 
 for pleasure. But as a place to live in, to enjoy 
 one's own self and fiiends, and bring up one's chil- 
 dren, give me my own little Boston before them all." 
 
 In the spring of 1849 he went abroad again, this 
 time seriously in search of health. An attack of 
 bronchitis was accompanied with troubles in his 
 head and with indigestion. His strength departed 
 and he was reduced in weight to one hundred and 
 thirty-one pounds. The voyage, by steamer this 
 time, was pleasant. He walked about Liverpool, 
 enjoying the balmy air, and after a ride of nine 
 hours and three quarters, which seemed to him rapid 
 travelling, found himself in London. George Ban- 
 croft, successor to Edward Everett, and an old friend, 
 was Minister in England. He saw Mr. Bancroft in 
 court costume, — gold-laced coat, hat, and trousers, 
 with a sword by his side. The next day " his Excel- 
 lency " took him to the House of Lords. He met 
 Macaulay, Hallam, Milman, and the Duke of Argyle 
 at a breakfast given for him at Mr. Bancroft's. 
 
 " Never did I listen to such a torrent of talk. 
 They appeared to talk all together, and yet without 
 confusion. It rushed on from one topic to another 
 
THE OLD WORLD. I4I 
 
 with inconceivable rapidity : law matters, church 
 matters, literary matters. I sat next to Milman, who 
 was very kind to me. Hallam opens his mouth and 
 shuts his eyes, — one very large and the other very 
 narrow, — and catches his breath as he talks. But 
 Macaulay ! His volubility is charming. His laugh 
 you listen to as a sort of low music. It does not 
 pull you along to listen to it, but you watch it, it is 
 so quiet and pleasant. The engraving that you have 
 of him in the ' History ' is a perfect likeness." 
 
 He saw and heard Earl Grey in the new and 
 splendid House of Lords. He breakfasted with the 
 poet Rogers, then eighty-five years old, but bright as 
 ever, and " very gracious to me," thanks, it was mod- 
 estly supposed, to his relationship with Mr. Everett, 
 " whose name is extremely endeared in all quarters." 
 Then he met "his Grace the Bishop of Norfolk, a 
 sprightly old gentleman of seventy," at a breakfast 
 given by Dr. Holland. These "breakfasts" were 
 exceedingly simple, " the utmost extravagance at the 
 rich Mr. Rogers', with a company as numerous as 
 the Knights of the Round Table, was a slice of 
 tongue." On Sunday morning he went to the meet- 
 ing of the sect founded by Edward Irving, the 
 friend of Carlyle, who died at Glasgow in 1834, and 
 in the afternoon to the Temple, drawn thither by the 
 reputation of the music, said to be the finest in Lon- 
 don. The choir sang the tune " All Saints " in an 
 enchanting manner. Westminster Abbey, which 
 had delighted him at first, was thrown completely 
 
142 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 into the shade. He visited Thomas Carlyle in a 
 most friendly manner and Sir Charles Lyell, heard 
 the opera of " Der Freischlitz " sung in the original 
 German by a company from Amsterdam, listened to 
 Lablache the Great, was amused by the dress and 
 style of the servants, and forgot his infirmities for a 
 time. 
 
 After sumptuous and finished and blooming 
 England, the first impressions of France, especially 
 of republican Paris, were unfavorable. The swarm- 
 ing people disconcerted him. He saw Rachel at the 
 Theatre Frangais and did not like her. But soon his 
 old enthusiasm revived. 
 
 "The scene has changed much for the better. 
 I have become used to what was unpleasant, and 
 cannot help admiring this splendid capital. I find 
 vast improvements on all sides : the convenient side- 
 walks, the well-lighted streets, the omnibuses running 
 in every direction, more commodious and more per- 
 fectly aiTanged than those of London. Then the 
 gardens are finer than ever. The Garden of Plants, 
 the Garden of the Tuileries, and, above all, the 
 Garden of the Luxembourg, branch out with a rich- 
 ness that twenty-three years have done not a little to 
 increase." 
 
 He sees Meyerbeer's new piece, " Le Prophete," at 
 the Grand Oj^era, and its caricature, " L'Ane a Bap- 
 tiste," meant to pour ridicule, which he enjoyed, on 
 the Socialists and disorganizers of the period. " I 
 suspect that Charles Fourier is held in more honor in 
 
THE OLD WORLD, I43 
 
 New York and Boston than he is here." The name 
 of Fourier was not musical to his ear. He went 
 to St. Denis, the cathedral of which had been " re- 
 stored " at an expense, he was told, of more than 
 three millions of dollars. He frequented the Louvre, 
 spent a fete day at Versailles (that demands strength), 
 and saw the sunset from the western terrace of the 
 Palace Garden. " Before me lay the '■ Place de la 
 Concorde,' that made my Trafalgar Square appear 
 but a backyard in comparison. The Obelisk of 
 Luxor, brought from Egypt at prodigious expense, 
 stood in the centre. Two grand fountains were 
 throwing up their waters, one on each side of it, 
 the rims of their basins of such a circumference 
 that if one of them was set up in the middle of 
 Boston Common it would appear disproportionately 
 large. Away off at the left were the beautiful por- 
 ticos of the ' Chamber of Deputies ' and the grace- 
 ful dome of the ' Invalides.' Stretching before me 
 were the '■ Champs Elysees.' The marble statues 
 around, much larger than life, received light from 
 the glowing clouds." He took a run down to Tours 
 by way of Orleans. The " Maid of Orleans " was 
 one of his heroines, and he never missed a chance of 
 glorifying the memory of the noble but ill-fated girl 
 and shedding a tear over the spots she had conse- 
 crated by her sacrifices. On his return to Paris the 
 city was so disturbed by rumors of insurrection, and 
 by the alarming prevalence of cholera, that he went 
 back to London, travelling on the Continent being 
 
144 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 rendered uncomfortable, if not dangerous, from 
 troops. In London were friends. He met Mr. 
 Cobden at Mr. Bancroft's, and was greatly pleased 
 with him. He heard Mozart's " Don Griovanni " in 
 German, also Spohr's opera of " Faust." His inti- 
 mates complimented him on his apparent gain in 
 health. He was delighted with a visit to Milman. 
 " I am much taken with him ; and his house is such 
 a residence as I had never imagined before, a fit 
 residence for a sacred poet, and the historian of two 
 religions. The gate that leads you across the little 
 garden to his study door opens from the very clois- 
 ters of "Westminster Abbey. His garden walk, mth 
 its lines of pointed arches hundreds of years old, is 
 a part of the former refectory of a convent attached 
 to the church. The dwelling itself that he occupies 
 was designed by the founder, Inigo Jones." The 
 Zoological Garden was duly inspected and de- 
 scribed. 
 
 The disagreeable symptoms were all gone. He 
 was weighed, and had gained ten pounds and a half. 
 Still he had misgivings as to his physical condition, 
 and doubted whether he should be able to resume 
 his pastoral duties to any thing like the old extent, 
 and begs his people not to be too sanguine. Before 
 going to the Continent again, he heard Milman 
 preach, and Disraeli speak in the Commons ; melted 
 into tears as the choir in the Temple church sang, 
 " Whither shall I go from thy Spirit " ; heard Madame 
 Persiani sing, saw Mrs. Jameson, and had a few 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 1 45 
 
 minutes' talk mth Lady Byron. Then for Ostend. 
 At Bruges he mounted the celebrated belfry, and 
 thought of Longfellow. At Aix Charlemagne came 
 before his vision. But the old town was deserted, 
 dirty, and gloomy. He preferred cheerful things. 
 Belgium charmed him with its picturesqueness and 
 beauty, the elegance of its women, the grace of 
 manners. At Malines there were masterpieces of 
 painting. At Ghent there was a festival with hand- 
 some decorations, dances, costumes, banners. At 
 Cologne there was the Cathedral, always interesting 
 and impressive, at that time more imposing for being 
 unfinished and unmodernized. And there was the 
 Rhine, the river he had come to see. This did not 
 disappoint him in any way. He was enthusiastic 
 about the river, as poets are apt to be. He wrote : 
 " It has not disappointed me in any respect. It 
 has rather gone beyond all my expectations. I 
 enjoyed two days of incessant admiration ; from 
 Cologne to Coblentz, where I stopped to rest, and 
 from there to the fine town of Mayence, where I 
 spent another night, I wished I had eyes all round 
 my head, that I might not lose a single point of the 
 prospect. From the seven mountains to ^ the castled 
 crag of Drachenfels,' that ' frowned o'er the wide and 
 winding Rhine ' (mark these two adjectives), full as 
 hard as I thought it would, to the last gentle slope 
 of the fruitful hills, fruitful wonderfully through 
 the ingenious toil of the cultivator, — every thing was 
 enchanting upon this incomparable stream. I call 
 
146 BOSTON UNirAKIANISM. 
 
 it incomparable, not because there may not be otliers 
 as beautiful and noble, though I hardly believe it, 
 but because there is no other the least like it. As 
 the undulating high 'grounds swept far away, they 
 were thrown up into handsome shapes such as I had 
 never seen before ; sometimes rising into the form of 
 a wave just ready to curl and break. You will 
 think me extravagant, but I do really believe that if 
 there was not a single castle or old ruin to be found, 
 and if it was not crowded as it is with the recollec- 
 tions of what has taken place upon its banks and 
 waters, it would still be the most charming of all 
 rivers. One ma}^ talk of painting the Rhine, — to be 
 sure the water is clay -color and none of the clearest, 
 — but the thing is not to be done. The effect is in 
 no ' Panorama.' And then to think of all the his- 
 tory and poetry that add an inexpressible interest to 
 the whole scene ! " 
 
 Strasburg delighted him, "French town and yet 
 half German " ; the cathedral, which filled him 
 " with special wonder " as a " wilderness of architec- 
 tural marvels and strange surprises"; the storks; 
 the quaint houses. At Basle he learned of the 
 death of DeWette, who was living but a few weeks 
 before. At Zurich he enjoyed the scenery. At 
 Lucerne he revelled in the view of mountains, 
 lake, villages, chalets, the bridges, the lion, — in the 
 preparation for the more gigantic magnificence of 
 the highest Alps. He ascended the Brimig and the 
 8cheidegg ; stood under the deep blue vault of the 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 1 47 
 
 Kosenlaui glacier ; walked up the valley of Laiiter- 
 brunnen ; was ravished with the fairy fall of the 
 Staubbach, saw " the incomparable White Lady " at 
 Interlaken ; visited the cascade of the Giessbach, 
 climbed up, all alone, to an old ruined castle that 
 was supposed to be celebrated in Byron's "Man- 
 fred " ; and then went to Berne ; saw the bears and 
 admired the spectres of the distant mountains. 
 
 "This morning I attended service in the great 
 Cathedral, filled with a Protestant congregation to 
 ovei'flowing. The preacher's old-fashioned ruff was 
 like the past ages; the slamming of the seats as 
 often as the people rose or sat reminded me of what I 
 used to hear in my youth; but the hour-glass at the 
 side of the pulpit looked rather alarming. The 
 minister was merciful, however, and if his sermon 
 was 'as one that speaketh in an unknown tongue,' 
 so was not the organ, a splendid instrument that 
 was installed with ceremony only two days ago, and 
 professes to rival that at Haarlem. The soft tones 
 were like Ariel's and its loud ones made the pews 
 tremble. From the esplanade before the church, or 
 rather by the side of it, one has a superb view of 
 the distant mountains. There is a still better one 
 from a delightful promenade upon the ramparts. 
 To both places I go and keep going. Last evening 
 I was at the latter place from an hour before sunset 
 till no light was left but the moon's, that was too 
 feeble to reflect them well. There they clearly were, 
 with their prodigious masses, and yet hardly looking 
 
148 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 like real substances. The Jungfrau, tlie Moncliy 
 tlie Eiger, the Finster-Aar-Horn, the Schreckhorn, 
 the Wetterhorn, and all the rest of the hard family 
 of the Horns, were right before me, together with 
 the Bltimlis-Alp on the extreme right, the most pic- 
 turesque of them all, as seen from this point. It is 
 an unwearying delight to me to see these tall fel- 
 lows lifting half of their height into the region of 
 everlasting frost, and. with no end of the variety of 
 their appearance, as the sky changes. The clouds 
 try to look like mountains, and the mountains them- 
 selves seem sometimes to be but shadows and mists." 
 From Mayence the voyager went to Wiesbaden 
 in order to see the pleasant place and taste the 
 waters, which were not at all to his liking ; nasty 
 tasting things seldom were. At Coblentz he came 
 to " the banks of the blue Moselle " and ascended 
 the beautiful stream, rejoicing to be " water-borne," 
 with "a view all round of heaven and earth"; 
 climbing up to one of the ruined towers before sun- 
 rise, delighting in the level meadows, mounting to 
 the Marienburg, and eating his simple meals in the 
 open air, the summer shower moistening his bread 
 sometimes. So he reached Treves, — that ancient city 
 which "Julius Caesar found important enough to be 
 his useful ally, — a city where false Constantine dis- 
 played his imperial state and cruelty, and where 
 some of his successors resided ; a city whose arch- 
 bishops were princes and fighters, men of stratagem 
 and violence. Have I not been into its Cathedral 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 1 49 
 
 and its Churcli of the Madonna over and asiain, 
 and heard the music and singing therein? You 
 need not desire to look at two more impressive 
 specimens of ecclesiastical antiquity, built in the 
 depths of the dark ages. But they are quite young 
 when compared with the Roman remains that stand 
 yet in the town. I have been to the amphitheatre, 
 where beasts and men tried which could be the 
 most savage, fifteen hundred years ago the scene 
 of vast bloodshed and mortal agony. I have been 
 to the mighty skeleton of the Baths, built as none 
 but those gigantic robbers knew how to build. 
 I have been to the top of the enormous gateway of 
 which no tradition gives the slightest account. . . . 
 Before leaving Treves I may as well mention that 
 here was the ridiculous exposition of the 'Holy 
 Coat' that made so much commotion a few years 
 ago, and that exalted one Mr. Ronge into the fame 
 of a second Luther for several weeks." 
 
 The hours in Metz were not many, and they were 
 very much occupied. The traveller was glad to 
 find himself in cheerful France again. Paris was an 
 old story ; but " Chalons upon the Marne " was not ; 
 Rheims was not. Did not Joan of Arc have her 
 great day there? Was not the grand cathedral 
 there ? and the statues ? and the painted glass ? and 
 the fine round window ? 
 
 In the summer of 1849 — August 22d — the Peace 
 Congress met in Paris, and the R-ue de la Chaussee 
 d'Antin, where the meetings were held, was alive 
 
150 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 with people, among whom, as much interested as any- 
 body in the humane aspect of the reform, stood Mr. 
 Frothingham, not a representative but a spectator 
 only. Victor Hugo, in a white vest, light trousers, 
 with dashing stripe at the side, presided and opened 
 the proceedings with a characteristic speech. He 
 was supported on the right by the Roman Catholic 
 minister of the Madeleine, in priest's dress, mth a 
 large black band edged with white, and on the left 
 by Athanase Coquerel, the Protestant preacher of the 
 Oratoire, wearing in his button-hole the badge of his 
 membership in the National Assembly. The utmost 
 harmony prevailed throughout. The speaking was 
 partly in French and partly in English, and as the 
 orators did not always understand each other, there 
 could be no collision. Strictly speaking there was 
 no debate, for discussion of the existing state of poli- 
 tics was forbidden, even if all controversy had not 
 been ridiculously out of place in a peace convention. 
 The English spoke wonderfully well. The French 
 language lent itself easily to noble declamation. The 
 Americans were voluble and sentimental. Henry 
 Vincent distinguished himself. There was great 
 applause and unbounded enthusiasm. Every enun- 
 ciation of a generous principle was greeted with 
 rapture. Even platitudes were welcomed. All the 
 idealists and inflammables were there, or wished they 
 were. Hundreds had crossed the Channel ; one of 
 the French newspapers hailed the Americans who 
 had bravely come from the " depths of their forests."" 
 
THE OLD WORLD. I5I 
 
 The Frencli ministers showed all honor to the 
 visitors. The public works were, without reserve, 
 thrown open on presentation of the little blue ticket 
 that the members carried. The " great waters " at 
 Versailles celebrated their coming, and a breakfast 
 was given them. The palace of St. Cloud ilung wide 
 its gorgeous apartments, glowing with paintings and 
 glittering with gilding. The crowd stood on balco- 
 nies which looked over a charming country as far as 
 Paris. The procession marched through the lovely 
 grounds, and round the lake, encircled with statues 
 and fountains. From a deep grove, approached by 
 a noble flight of steps, a solitary jet of water, the 
 highest in France, tossed up its spray for the delight 
 of the spectators. The cascades were illuminated. 
 The waters fell down three long flights of steps. 
 Lights were placed in a row on each stair, so that the 
 waves rolled over them, while innumerable fires shed 
 their lustre upon the surface. At intervals masses 
 of flame, variously colored, went up from large vases 
 above and below the fall, lighting up not only the 
 streams and the vast basin they flowed into, but the 
 trees that made an amphitheatre at the side and 
 behind. The whole was like a scene of enchant- 
 ment, — a rare sight for the French themselves; a 
 little showy perhaps, but very splendid. 
 
 This was the glorious side. The droll aspects of 
 the Congress may be forgiven, — the strange mingling 
 of tongues ; the mistake of Mr. Cobden in announ- 
 cing a letter from the Archbishop of Paris as a com- 
 
152 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 munication from tlie Archbishop of Canterbury ; the 
 heated harangue of a socialist; a denunciation of 
 American slavery by an Abolitionist ; the accidental 
 assumption of borrowed plumage by a few unpacific 
 individuals. But an incident that befell my honest, 
 guileless, simple-minded father was so characteristic 
 and so funny that it must be told. M. De Tocque- 
 ville. Minister of Foreign Affairs, had thrown open 
 his magnificent rooms and illuminated his garden, 
 and given a most hospitable invitation to the " Con- 
 gress." An officious person, who seemed to be a 
 master of ceremonies, advanced, called the visitor by 
 his name and title, and presented him formally to 
 the host and hostess. This person proved to be the 
 editor of an anti-slavery sheet, and not a veiy savoury 
 individual either. Both these facts were learned 
 afterwards to the victim's great disgust. It is not 
 likely that M. De Tocqueville knew who his usher 
 was, being absorbed in the agreeable duty of receiv- 
 ing the men and women who represented a great 
 idea. 
 
 This description of Victor Cousin is interesting. 
 Cousin, it may be necessary to remind the present 
 generation, was a famous philoso2:)her, a corresjDond- 
 ent of Dr. Channing, a man of influence among the 
 early Unitarians, one whose works were studied by 
 scholars, fifty years ago. 
 
 " He lives at the Sorbonne, an ancient sort of col- 
 lege, where I found him after mounting but one 
 flight of homely stone stairs. His reception-room 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 1 53 
 
 "was as plain as plain could be, with a few common 
 engravings, likenesses of uncommon men in his line, 
 hanging on the walls. The only two engravings of 
 a different sort that he had chosen to deck his room 
 with were the ' Death of Socrates ' and the ' Madonna 
 of the Throne.' He received me with great cordiality, 
 in a queer cap covering tis gray hair, and wrapped 
 in a gown not unlike the poorest that I have some- 
 times ventured timidly to make my appearance in 
 on a winter morning. He talked with great anima- 
 tion on religious philosophy in general and on some 
 of my Boston friends in particular ; putting on no 
 dignity or reserve, but throwing himself about with 
 a liberality of gesture and grimace that would have 
 seemed rather odd in England or America. I was 
 very much, pleased witk what he said, and believe 
 that I was ratker lucky in the small part that fell to 
 myself in the conversation." 
 
 He went to the Theatre Frangais to see Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel, who had reappeared in Corneille's 
 tragedy " Les Horaces," and liked her better than 
 before, but was not transported. She was too dis- 
 tressing for him, nor did her spasmodic power please 
 his taste, which demanded more even as well as 
 more cheerful things. Here is a picture of Napoleon 
 HI: 
 
 " Whoever has seen any of his pictures has seen 
 himn^ with his ordinary features, and narrow, heavy 
 eyes ; — a sluggish-looking countenance. He is any 
 thing but sluggish, however, in reality. He affects 
 
154 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 state, never forgets tlie name of his uncle, wlio is the 
 national idol, and doubtless has the most ambitious 
 views. One of the French papers that I read this 
 morning contrasted his military trappings and attend- 
 ance as he parades through the country whenever a 
 new section of railway is to be opened, with plain 
 General Taylor, the old soldier and conqueror, visit- 
 ing different parts of our United States without 
 pomp or noise." 
 
 A night or two more at the Grand Opera, the 
 Gymnase Dramatique, where the acting was perfect, 
 excursions to Fontainebleau, St. Germain, Passy, 
 Neuilly, Chartres, Rouen, and the traveller bade 
 farewell to France and looked toward home. The 
 last letter was written. England did not detain him 
 long. He sailed from Liverpool in September. The 
 trip was, on the whole, beneficial, though it did not 
 restore him. In the latter part of the summer, he 
 spoke of feeling well, but of being far from strong ; 
 doubted if his voice was more powerful than it had 
 been before he left Boston ; and was afraid lest his 
 people should think him more vigorous than he was; 
 talked of a colleague, and of holding out for a year 
 alone. The Atlantic voyage was prosperous, but a 
 slight shock at the end showed how weak his nerves 
 were. He was in no condition to resume parish 
 work. Candidates for the pulpit preached for two 
 or three years, and in May, 1853, Rev. Rufus Ellis 
 was installed as sole minister of the First Church. 
 The meeting-house in Chauncy Place was torn do^vn 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 155 
 
 in 1868, and a new dispensation of Unitarianism 
 ensued, more " evangelical " tlian Dr. Frothingham's, 
 while the new edifice on Berkeley Street called for 
 a less simple ceremonial than had prevailed in Puritan 
 times. 
 
 The next years were uneventful. The parish 
 work was done by another; but there was oppor- 
 tunity for friendly service among the parishioners, 
 and for kindly counsel and help toward his new 
 successor. Then he could read his books and culti- 
 vate his friends. 
 
 In 1859 a third tour of eighteen months in 
 Europe was made with his wife and daughters. 
 Some new places were visited as a tourist might do, 
 but nothing of moment occurred to be recorded. 
 In Rome he was attentive to Theodore Parker, who 
 was that winter trying desperately to recover his 
 health in the " Eternal City." It was in the course 
 of this journey that Dr. Frothingham became first 
 aware of a defect in his own vision. He could 
 not enjoy picture-galleries, saw figures distorted 
 and colors blurred; but his sweetness of disposi- 
 tion turned this off, and even made fun of it. 
 StUl he felt uneasy, and finding that the disability 
 was due to no local or incidental cause, con- 
 sulted the best oculists in Paris and London, but 
 without success, as no disease was visible in the 
 organ itself. The malady afterwards proved to be 
 more deej^ly seated, but when he came home in the 
 autumn of 1860, the dimness, though increased, was 
 
156 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 not alarming. The event was not anticipated by any- 
 body, and the malady itself was quite forgotten in 
 the joy of getting home ; for home meant peace and 
 friendship and quiet studies and tranquil thoughts 
 and loving duties and sweet cares. There was, in 
 all his wanderings, the last as well as the first, a 
 longing for these, that is expressed in the following 
 little poem, one of several written in the Old World, 
 and expressing his deep aifection for the New, an 
 affection which all his companions felt, for they were 
 devoted friends of republican institutions, staunch 
 defenders of intellectual liberty, all ardent advocates 
 of intellectual liberty, and serious champions of 
 social and domestic virtue. The great words, "home," 
 " peace," " order," " union," " love," " enlightenment," 
 were dear to them. They abhorred violence, discord, 
 disruption, and, if they were conservatives, were con- 
 servative of what seemed to them altogether good ; 
 and although to ardent reformers it did not appear 
 to be the best by any means, yet there is something 
 touching in the patient allegiance of these men to 
 the primeval virtues. They adhered to certain car- 
 dinal sentiments, dreading innovation because it in- 
 volved uncertainty. They were not valiant men. 
 On the contrary, they were timid and apprehensive, 
 fearful of change. They did not see far or search 
 deeply. They took for granted many things in reli- 
 gion and in society that are disputed now. They 
 were not more comfort-loving than others, but they 
 kejit behind the intrenchments, and did not venture 
 
THE OLD WORLD. 15/ 
 
 beyond tlie lines. Agnosticism was unheard of, nor 
 could they conceive of a religious man who was a 
 doubter of the Christian authority or the leading 
 tenets of theism. Naturalism was a thing abhorred, 
 and the least approach to Socialism was detested. 
 They snuggled in the nest of faith. This nest w^as 
 composed of the refuse of larger growths — of twigs, 
 straws, leaves, an occasional flower, a bit of sprig ; 
 but they were happy in it, for the permanent part 
 consisted of home feelings, of sympathy, affection, 
 sweetness, peace, hopefulness, placid contentment, 
 submission to a divine will, cheerful anticipation of 
 immortality. 
 
 HOMEWARD FROM FOREIGN LANDS. 
 " Then I said, I shall die in my nest." — Job xxix., l8. 
 
 There are they who have left their sweet home, 
 Through these strange, distant places to roam, 
 And no more back, no more, ever come ; 
 And I sigh with their memory oppressed, 
 " Let me die in my nest." 
 
 When the troubles of nature are rife, 
 And the heart with itself is at strife. 
 For then Death is in conflict with Life, 
 I submit to the sovereign behest, 
 But would die in my nest. 
 
 Where within me the first thoughts were dreamed, 
 And upon me Affection first beamed. 
 And through blossoms and tears my spring teemed 
 Amid scenes and companions loved best, 
 I would die in my nest. 
 
158 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Not in lands with a speech not my own, 
 Where the sights that are newest look lone ; 
 But where all most familiar had grown 
 To my eyes and the throbs of my breast, — 
 Shall I die in that nest ? 
 
 They will say : " It is one to the wise \ 
 
 From what country the freed spirit flies, 
 For the way is the same to the skies " ; 
 Truths to faith and to reason addressed, — 
 But alas ! for the nest. 
 
 Oh, methinks it would glad the last gaze, 
 To be circled with friends of old days. 
 And the spots that are gilt with the rays 
 That stream from the sun of the West 
 O'er the down of my nest ! 
 
 And I hear a propitious decree ; 
 And the blessing I hoped for shall be ; 
 For I smell the wide air of the sea. 
 There is land o'er the waves' foamy crest : 
 " I shall die in my nest." 
 
 Thus far Dr. Frothingham's lot had been a happy 
 one. He belonged to an honored profession ; he 
 was most respected ; he was cordially beloved, as a 
 charming person; his temperament was sunny; his 
 home was peaceful and affectionate. He lived in a 
 delightful street, well called " Summer " — a street 
 of gardens, and elm trees that branched over so 
 as almost to meet across the way ; with Edward 
 Everett next door, and excellent people on either 
 side. An air of Oriental magnificence was imparted 
 by Mr. Cushing's Chinese servants in their native 
 dress. 
 
VIII. 
 
 THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 The literaiy quality of this form of Unitarianism 
 is nowhere better seen than in the spirit of natural 
 friendliness that took the place of sectarian combi- 
 nation. Of course this was confined to the cultivated 
 men, for with humanity at large there was no active 
 sympathy. There was pity but little fellowship. 
 Here, too, I must take my father as a representative ; 
 who, though he was more poetical than his compan- 
 ions, illustrated their breadth of interest. With 
 Heniy W. Longfellow there was always an affection- 
 ate intimacy ; partly due to the professor's position 
 in the neighboring college of Harvard ; partly to the 
 poet's genius ; but more to the warm, exuberant 
 temper of the man and his enthusiastic interest in all 
 humane learning. He was delighted to meet Corne- 
 lius C. Felton, " heartiest of Greek professors," as 
 Dickens called him, 
 
 So wholly Greek wast thou in thy serene 
 And childlike joy of life, O Philhellene ! 
 
 to quote Longfellow's sonnet to him. W. H. Pres- 
 cott was a loved foi'm. Ticknor was admired for 
 
 159 
 
l6o BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 his knowledge of letters, and Hillard for his elegant 
 scholarship, and Everett for his fine taste and his 
 eloquence, and Palfrey for his erudition, and Ban- 
 croft for his brilliancy. The clerical intimacy was 
 large. In an unpublished poem, written some fifty 
 years ago, there is a sketch of " nine worthies," — S. 
 K. Lothrop, Chandler Robbins, Ezra S. Gannett, 
 Ephraim Peabody, Cynis A. Bartol, Greorge Putnam, 
 William P. Lunt, James Walker, Alexander Young. 
 In an old album of portraits I find photographic 
 likenesses of Dr. Kirkland, Dr. Pierce, Dr. Freeman, 
 Dr. Porter, Dr. Harris, Dr. Gray, Dr. Channing, Dr 
 Lowell, Dr. Parkman, Dr. Ware, Dr. Greenwood 
 James Walker, John Pierpont, S. K. Lothrop, Chand 
 ler Robbins, E. S. Gannett, Cyi'us A. Bartol, E. Pea 
 body, Samuel Barrett, Wm. P. Lunt, George E. Ellis 
 Alexander Young, Convers Francis, Jared Sparks, 
 R. W. Emerson, George Ripley, F. H. Hedge, Or 
 ville Dewey, Rufus Ellis, Edward E. Hale, T. S 
 King, Theodore Parker, F. D. Huntington — a rich 
 brotherhood, and miscellaneous ; but the unsectarian 
 heart embraced them all, having regard more to the 
 purpose than the creed, though this too, within Chris- 
 tianity, was imperative. Of those with whom my 
 father was more or less intimate, some are the sub- 
 jects of written memoirs, some are illustrious, some 
 are comparatively unknown. All had high ideal 
 aims. Everett was originally a clergyman ; so was 
 Palfrey ; so was Sparks. Geo. Bancroft thought of 
 the ministry at one time, and preached several ser- 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. l6l 
 
 mons. The names of Samuel Barrett and Caleb Stet- 
 son are almost forgotten now ; but once tliey were 
 important and even conspicuous men. His friend, 
 Lewis G. Pray, wrote a memoir of the first, editing, 
 along with it, ten of his excellent sermons ; and the 
 other — a witty, genial, humane man, did good sei"vice 
 as an opponent of slavery, and a transcendentalist. 
 
 There are still traditions of the wit of Francis 
 Parkman, but how few know that he was one of the 
 eminent characters of his time ! He studied theology 
 under the direction of W. E. Channing, entered his 
 name in the school of divinity at Edinburgh, and, in 
 the course of the session there, read a discourse that 
 received the approbation of the j)rofessor. In 1812 
 he preached several Sundays for the Unitarian society 
 in Liverpool, of which Mr. Lewis was pastor, and 
 with such acceptance that he was invited to remain 
 as associate minister. Declining this call he came 
 home, preached for a considerable period at the First 
 Church in Boston, then vacant by the death of Wil- 
 liam Emerson. Soon after, he was ordained and 
 installed as pastor of the New North Church, in 
 Hanover Street, as successor to Dr. Eliot. Mr. Chan- 
 ning, his old instructor, preached the sermon of ordi- 
 nation. Mr. Parkman (he was made a D.D. by 
 Harvard College in 1834) was a man of various 
 information, a kind spirit, singular benevolence, pol- 
 ished yet simple manners, fine literary taste. He 
 was a small figure, with a pleasant voice, a gracious 
 manner, and an expressive face. He was subject to 
 
1 62 BOSTON UNJTARIANISM. 
 
 moods of depression, as men of mercurial and humor- 
 ous disposition are apt to be. Rev. F. D. Huntington 
 (now Bishop of Central New York) wi'ote this of him 
 in 1854 to Rev. Dr. Sprague, author of " Annals of 
 the American Pulpit." Mr. Huntington was then a 
 Unitarian minister. 
 
 His pleasant familiarity never transgressed the bounds of 
 perfect courtesy ; and, even in the less restrained hours of in- 
 timate fellowship, something was always present in his deport- 
 ment to betoken his excellent professional breeding. It was 
 his custom, indeed, to insist with considerable scrupulousness, 
 on those clerical proprieties and formalities that formerly, 
 more than now, distinguished the ministerial vocation ; and 
 those whose taste in other respects was less exacting than his 
 own, will long remember the good-natured rebukes with which 
 he pursued their departures from the ancient rule. 
 
 He loved Scriptural quotations in all conjunctures, and was 
 sometimes tempted to use them rather by their appositeness, 
 than by the solemnity of the circumstances. He kept the 
 attention of the company always awake by piquant terms of 
 expression and quaint phrases, nor was his wit or eloquence 
 wanting when the tone of the talk was raised. He had an 
 admirable faculty of describing the peculiarities of public 
 men, and the former events with which he had been con- 
 versant. Of persona] anecdotes he held at command a large 
 fund. These remarkable conversational gifts, together with 
 his gentle social connections, contributed to the eminence of 
 his position, both in England, where he was much respected, 
 and among literary associations at home. As a preacher. Dr. 
 Parkman was uniformly serious and practical. In his long 
 ministry at the " New North," his fidelity and devotion were 
 untiring, as both the living and the dead would affirm. There 
 was great method in his habits. He was a genuine respecter 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 63 
 
 of humble virtue. He honored the poor saints. He blessed 
 the widow and the fatherless. He was prompt in all the affairs 
 of consolation and charity. Family wealth never weakened 
 his work, nor enticed him to forget the claims of the least 
 conspicuous of his flock, and that is no light honour to his 
 Christian conscience ; but it did make him the constant and 
 munificent guardian of penury and distress. 
 
 Every aspect of suffering touched him tenderly. There was 
 no hard spot in his breast. His house was the centre of 
 countless mercies to the various forms of want ; and there 
 were few solicitors of alms, local or itinerant, and whether for 
 private necessity or public benefactions, that his door did not 
 welcome and send away satisfied. 
 
 In the Trinitarian controversy he did his share on the Uni- 
 tarian side. For nearly half a century he contributed more or 
 less to the principal religious and theological publications of 
 his denomination. The processes of his mind were practical, 
 however, rather than speculative. His style was not wanting 
 in force, but distinguished rather for clearness and ease. 
 
 Many of his papers were biographical, narrative, or com- 
 memorative. He looked at the varied questions of Theology, 
 and at ideas and principles, very much in their relation to 
 persons. He spoke extemporaneously with great readiness 
 and often. 
 
 Harvard University, of which he was an Overseer and fre- 
 quent visitor, was very dear to his heart, and its concerns 
 touched his personal pride. Throughout he was a zealous and 
 consistent friend of the Unitarian movement ; but was too 
 catholic in his feelings to favour an exclusive policy towards 
 any Christian sect. 
 
 Those who ever joined in Dr. Parkman's public prayers, 
 would feel any notice of him to be incomplete that did not 
 
164 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 advert to the beautiful and affecting union of fervour and 
 simplicity, biblical phraseology and varied allusions with ever 
 appropriate reference to circumstances and persons, which 
 marked his petitions and thanksgivings. I remember that the 
 Rev. Dr. Henry Ware, Jr., professor at Cambridge, on the 
 Parkman foundation, procured from him a letter giving his 
 conceptions of that exercise, and his own mode of preparation, 
 and that this letter was read by Dr. Ware to the successive 
 classes of students in the Theological School. 
 
 Edwin P. Whipple, an excellent critic and a candid 
 Judge, expressed himself as follows : 
 
 His prime quality was humour ; and humour, not merely as a 
 power of his mind, but as an element of his character, and an 
 instinct of his nature. In him it seemed made up of feeling 
 and insight in equal proportions. In its most intellectual 
 manifestations it evinced that its source was in a kindly, 
 tolerant, and beneficent disposition ; that it loved while it 
 laughed. Whether he conversed on theology or politics, or 
 manners, or individual character, or recorded some sad or 
 pleasant experience of his own, the wise and genial humorist 
 was always observable, softening, enlivening, enriching every 
 thing he touched. His practical discernment was so sure and 
 keen, his knowledge of the world was so extensive, and his 
 perceptions of character and motives were so quick and deep, 
 that it was impossible to impose on him by any pretence or 
 deception. With all his subtilty, however, in detecting the 
 weaknesses of men, there was nothing of the satirist in his dis- 
 position ; and those who were the objects of his shrewd but 
 kindly humour seemed to enjoy it as much as others. He so 
 softly let a man down from the stilts of his rhetoric, or pierced 
 the bubbles of his declamation with such smiling tact, that the 
 person felt the mists of his self-delusion scattered as by sun- 
 light. It was impossible to meet Dr. Parkman in the street, 
 and stop a minute to exchange words with him, without carry- 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 65 
 
 ing away with you some phrase or turn of thought, so exquisite 
 in its mingled sagacity and humour that it touched the inmost 
 sense of the ludicrous and made the heart smile as well as the 
 lips. Indeed, in this respect, he continually reminded me of 
 some of the greatest and most genial humorists in literature, — 
 of Addison and Goldsmith, of Lamb and Irving. In the com- 
 monest conversation, his mastery of the felicities of humorous 
 expression was quite a marvel. Without the slightest hesita- 
 tion, sentence after sentence would glide from his tongue, 
 indicating the most consummate command of the resources of 
 language, and every word moistened with the richest humour, 
 and edged with the most refined wit. His voice, in its sweet, 
 mild, unctuous smoothness, aided the effect of his expression. 
 His style in conversation, unlike his style in his writings, 
 evinced a creative mind. It was individual, original, teeming 
 with felicities of verbal combination, and flexible to the most 
 delicate variations of his thought. Though it owed no small 
 portion of its charm to his inimitable manner, it still, if literally 
 reported, would have possessed sufficient vitality and richness 
 to indicate, better than any printed memorials of his powers, 
 his real wealth of thought, observation, experience, and 
 knowledge. 
 
 James T. Fields used to deliglit in repeating a 
 charming illustration of Dr. Parkman's mingled 
 gravity and humor. He said that when he first 
 came into service as a young store clerk in the 
 Corner Book Store, Dr. Parkman, v^ho was a stranger 
 to him entered, and addressed him thus : 
 
 " I am in want, as a gift for a maiden who is about to be 
 married, of a copy of a book once held in high regard, but 
 now, I grieve to say, much neglected and forgotten — the Holy 
 Bible, an Oxford edition, well clothed in its binding, appointed 
 to be read in churches. Have you one ? " The youth looked at 
 
l66 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 him in awe, and climbing a ladder, took down a copy from a 
 top shelf. Being not then familiar with the private trade-mark 
 giving the price of the book, he scanned the mark on the inner 
 cover, and raised his eyes musingly to interpret it. Dr. Park- 
 man, as if protestingly, said : " My young friend, you need not 
 invoke divine aid in fixing a high price on that volume. It 
 seems to me a little shop-worn." 
 
 Here is another good stoiy. Dr. Parkman was 
 walking with a fat brother ; the day was warm ; the 
 companion panted, wiped his face with his handker- 
 chief, and manifested other signs of suffering. Dr. 
 Parkman said to him : 
 
 " My friend, it has pleased Divine Providence to endow you 
 with an ample fleshly integument. How happy you must be 
 to remember the apostolic promise that we shall be changed! " 
 
 Alexander Young used to be a jDrominent per- 
 sonality in this Zion. I can see him now, with his 
 rather short but broad, thick, stocky, and seemingly 
 robust frame, his portly shape and somewhat heavy 
 features, walking, with stately tread, down Summer 
 Street, where he lived and where his meeting-house 
 stood. He was a scholar, and not in New England 
 history alone. I remember his expressing an opin- 
 ion about a nice point in French pronunciation at 
 our house one day. He lived but fifty -four years, 
 and did an immense amount of work. He was the 
 son of a printer, was educated at the Boston Latin 
 School, left Harvard College in 1820, the companion 
 of E. S. Gannett, W. II. Furness, E. B. Hall, leaders 
 of the Unitarian faitli, studied divinity, was ap- 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 6/ 
 
 proved by the Boston Association, and from the 
 start was so popular as a preacher that in two 
 months after entering the profession he received two 
 invitations, one from the Twelfth Congregational 
 Society, the other from the New South. The last 
 he accepted, and became the successor of Kirkland, 
 Thatcher, and Greenwood. Here he preached nearly 
 thirty years — from 1825 till 1854, and was so little 
 polemical or doctrinal that he did not care to make 
 any public statement in regard to the details of be- 
 lief. His main interest, outside of his profession, 
 was history. The series of " Selections from the 
 Old English Prose Writers," in nine volumes, pub- 
 lished in 1839, not only showed great powers of dis- 
 cernment and a delicate appreciation, but helped to 
 educate people up to such masterpieces as Sir Thomas 
 Browne's " Urn Burial," Sir Philip Sidney's " De- 
 fence of Poesie," Fuller's " Holy State." His " Chroni- 
 cles of the Pilgrim Fathers of the Colony of Plymouth 
 from 1602 to 1625" — published in 1841 (a second 
 edition appeared in 1844) — elicited warm commenda- 
 tion from so exalted a judge as Hon, R. C. Winthrop. 
 In 1846 was published " Chronicles of the First 
 Planters of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay, from 
 1623 to 1626." Materials for two other works were 
 collected, and the works themselves planned : " Chroni- 
 cles of the First Planters of the Colony of Virginia, 
 from the First Voyage of Discovery in 1584 to the 
 Dissolution of the Virginia Company in 1624 " ; and 
 " Chronicles of Maritime Discoveiy on the Coasts of 
 
l68 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Noi-th America," but untimely death prevented the 
 execution of either of these tasks. The volumes 
 published showed extensive and accurate knowledge, 
 extraordinary zeal in research, singular impartiality 
 of judgment, great activity of mind in the direction 
 of literary achievement, a strong inclination towards 
 ethical as distinguished from speculative subjects, a 
 passionate love of books and elegant letters. A 
 contemporary remembers him as a " highly gifted 
 and accomplished man," and praises his " gentle- 
 manly manners " and the " genial and kindly tone of 
 his spirit." Dr. Young — he was made a Doctor of 
 Divinity in 1846 by Harvard College — w^as decid- 
 edly Unitarian, of a conservative stamp, but was 
 never sufficiently interested in dogmatic questions to 
 take a prominent part in controversy. Such agita- 
 tion was not conducive to his favorite pursuits, to 
 say nothing of a constitutional dislike to extreme 
 opinions. One does not hear of him in connection 
 with new schemes of philosophy or movements for 
 social reform. His faith was in slow methods of in- 
 fluence, in education, cultivation, the spread of intel- 
 ligence, the increase of self-respect. With the whole 
 weight of his moral sentiments he repudiated Cal- 
 vinism, thus exalting the natural mind above ecclesi- 
 astical authority as it existed in his time, without 
 pushing the lines of logical inference further towards 
 their conclusion, as Parker, for example, did. With 
 neither Channing nor Emerson was he in sympathy ; 
 but he used faithfully every gospel appliance for 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 69 
 
 elevating and reforming mankind. His attitude 
 toward Scriptural authority is explicity declared in 
 a sermon preached at the ordination of Rev. George 
 Edward Ellis, as pastor of the Harvard Church, in 
 Charlestown, March 11, 1840: 
 
 The Christian minister is to preach the declarations and 
 statements, the doctrines and principles of the Gospel. In his 
 view, religion is identified with Christianity, and he values 
 Christianity because it gives him assurance of certain truths 
 which he regards as of infinite importance. These truths con- 
 stitute his religion. . . . All our knowledge of Christ and 
 Christianity is derived, not from consciousness or intuition, 
 but from outward revelation. It is not innate, spontaneous, 
 and original with us, but extrinsic, derived, superinduced. 
 . . . Once admit that the New Testament does not contain 
 all the principles of spiritual truth . . . and you open the 
 door to all sorts of loose and crude speculations. . . . The 
 old heathen sages, it is true, stumbled on some fortunate conjec- 
 tures, and made some happy guesses, but they could assert 
 nothing with assurance ; they could not speak with certainty 
 and authority. 
 
 This is the very ground taken in Mr. Norton's 
 "The Latest form of Infidelity," 1839. Mr. Ellis' 
 sermon on Dr. Young, preached at '^ Church Green " 
 on March 26, 1854, the Sunday after the interment, 
 reiterated the same ideas : 
 
 With an intense and unwavering conviction he held to the 
 divine mission of Jesus Christ, confirmed by miracles, illus- 
 trated by inspired teachings, and made essential to us by our 
 spiritual needs and by the imperfection and insufficiency of all 
 earthly dependence. 
 
170 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 At Dr. Young's death there was a general expres- 
 sion of bereavement. Funeral discourses were deliv- 
 ered, tributes were paid, notices were written, the 
 newspapers spoke in his praise, and he who had 
 shown such excellent judgment in celebrating dis- 
 tinguished men was himself distinguished. Dr. 
 William B. Sprague gave him a place among the 
 eminent Unitarian divines in his " Annals of the 
 American Pulpit " ; Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, who 
 had known him well for several years, wrote of his 
 " sterling qualities," and said : 
 
 No man among us had a more familiar acquaintance with 
 the treasures of English literature. The series of selections 
 from the Old Prose Writers, which he published in 1S39, gave 
 ample proof of his careful discrimination and refined taste, 
 while it introduced to the reading community of our country- 
 some of the choicest productions of the English language. I 
 have a vivid remembrance of my own sense of personal in- 
 debtedness to him, as I read, for the first time, in this edition, 
 such works as Feltham's " Resolves," and Fuller's " Holy 
 State," and Sir Philip Sidney's " Defence of Poesie," and Sir 
 Thomas Browne's " Urn Burial." 
 
 Mr. James Russell Lowell took pleasure in con- 
 fessing: that he owed much to the same collection. 
 
 Dr. Young took an active interest in every thing 
 that concerned the highest education. He was Vice- 
 President of the Boston Latin School Association ; 
 a member of the Board of Overseers of Harvard 
 College, and Secretary of the Board after 1849 ; a 
 director in the Society for Promoting Theological 
 Education ; Corresponding Secretary of the Massa- 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. I /I 
 
 chusetts Historical Society ; and a member of various 
 historical societies in other States. His heart was 
 as warm as his head was bright. He was President 
 of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 
 Piety, and Charity ; a member of the Massachusetts 
 Congregational Charitable Society ; a member of the 
 Society for Propagating the Gospel among the Indi- 
 ans and Others in North America ; and in all these 
 offices he was a faithful servant. His library was 
 handsomely stored with books, which were his de- 
 light, and his life was in full accord with his teach- 
 ing. He was universally respected as a man, and 
 much relied on as a pastor, and is an admirable 
 example of that mingling of culture and character 
 which marked the Unitarian ministers. 
 
 Dr. Young had humor also. He did enjoy a Joke 
 or a funny story. Just before his last sickness he 
 was at a friend's house in Charlestown, making merry 
 over a newspaper story of an old woman who com- 
 plained of having the " brown critters." As he left 
 the door to walk home he said, laughing : " I hope 
 I shall not be attacked by the brown critters." 
 Alas, he was. That night he took a cold which led 
 to a fatal illness. Ten years after his death his 
 meeting-house was taken down ; George E. Ellis 
 delivered the last sermon in it, and Dr. Frothiugham 
 wrote a hymn of parting, which is printed in the 
 second series of the " Metrical Pieces." 
 
 William Paesons Lunt was also a power. He was 
 not even so old as Alexander Young, when lie died ; 
 
172 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 for he was born in 1805, and passed away at AkaMh, 
 the ancient Ezion-Geber, on the eastern estuary at 
 the head of the Red Sea, in 1857, within a month 
 of fifty-one years of age. His grandfather, Henry 
 Lunt, was a favorite officer of Paul Jones, who fought 
 in the Bonhonime Richard^ took part in the capture 
 of the Serapis, and did good service in the war of 
 the Revolution. The grandson had nothing of the 
 soldier in his composition. Even on the field of 
 theology he brandished no weapon, though filled 
 with the earnest conviction that might have prompted 
 him to strike down an enemy. He was a quiet, 
 grave, silent man, introspective, undemonstrative, 
 pensive ; a man of brooding and apprehensive mind, 
 of warm religious feeling, of fastidious intellectual 
 proclivities. My father was very fond of him, and 
 placed him among his " nine worthies " in the poem 
 above referred to. Here is his description ; 
 
 A " rural bishop " now, 
 
 With pale and furrowed brow, 
 Draws up his chair beside my bed. 
 
 The cloudy orb Saturn 
 
 Drips from its leaden urn 
 Its damps on his fine nature and clear head. 
 
 Long will he silent sit, 
 
 If no inspiring fit 
 Rouse him to animated speech. 
 
 His low unfrequent laugh, 
 
 Half gay and plaintive half, 
 Rolls like grave ocean toying with the beach. 
 
 But give a quickening theme, 
 And wake him out of dream, 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1/3 
 
 And you shall feel what magic power 
 
 Of skilled melodious tongue, 
 
 And energies full strong, 
 Has genius in its high, ascendant hour. 
 
 Rhetor and poet too. 
 
 With taste severely true, 
 He writes for those who can judge well : — 
 
 But when his periods glance 
 
 With burning utterance, 
 Both taught and untaught feel the binding spell. 
 
 The fine hymu, the most beautiful in my opinion 
 that N. L. Frothingham ever composed, 
 
 O God, whose presence glows in all, 
 
 Within, around us, and above, 
 Thy word we bless, thy name we call. 
 
 Whose word is Truth, whose name is Love, 
 
 was written for Mr. Lunt's ordination in New York, 
 on the 19th of June, 1828 ; and the other hymn, 
 
 We meditate the day 
 
 Of triumph and of rest, 
 When, shown of God and shaped in clay, 
 
 The word was manifest ! 
 
 was written for his installation at Quincy, June 3, 
 1835. Both, but particularly the latter, show the 
 character of the Unitarian faith as respects the 
 nature of Christ and the authority of the evangeli- 
 cal record. When Dr. Luut died at Akab^h, on his 
 way to the Holy Land, March 20, 1857, my father 
 wTote the following touching " Lament : " 
 
1/4 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 A LAMENT. 
 
 FOR REV. WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT, D.D. 
 
 A wail from beyond the desert ! 
 A wail from across the sea ! 
 
 The home he left, 
 
 Bereft, bereft. 
 For evermore must be. 
 
 As spread the heavy tidings, 
 How many a heart grows sore, 
 
 That the eloquent grace 
 
 Of that pensive face 
 And that mellow voice is o'er ! 
 
 Alas for thee, O our brother ! 
 
 And for this we sorrow most. 
 That a spirit so fair 
 Must be breathed out there, 
 
 On that stern Arabian coast ; — 
 
 That a life so all unforeign — 
 
 To faith .and his country bound, — 
 
 Turned dying eyes 
 
 Upon Asian skies. 
 And dropped on Moslem ground. 
 
 Away for the Holy City 
 With pilgrim soul he trod ; 
 
 But nearer at hand 
 
 Must the pearl gates expand 
 Of the city new of God. 
 
 The judgment-peak of Sinai 
 Rose now in the homeward West ; 
 
 Its shadows grim 
 
 Had no terror for him 
 As he sank to his Christian rest. 
 
 But, oh, that the thoughtful scholar,- 
 His mind at its fullest noon, — 
 
 That the preacher's tongue 
 
 And the poet's song 
 Should pass away so soon ! 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 175 
 
 Outside of his profession, in which he was most 
 devoted, Mr. Lunt cultivated three fields, that of 
 philosophy, that of history, and that of poetry. The ^■' 
 first was foreshadowed in his "Forensic," on gra- 
 duating from Harvard, the subject of which was, 
 " "Whether, in Point of Morality, the Truth be a Justi- 
 fication of an Alleged Libel on Private Character." 
 Dr. Pierce said that it " bore the palm in speaking." 
 It was further illustrated in a sermon preached at 
 Jamaica Plain, on occasion of the installation of Rev. 
 George Whitney, the subject of which was, " The 
 Necessity of a Religious Philosophy " ; in an address 
 to the alumni of the divinity school, in 1852 ; and 
 in the Dudleian lecture, delivered in 1855. This last 
 was especially elaborate, and was even declared by a 
 contemporary to be among the " most profound, brill- 
 iant, and masterly productions that have illustrated 
 the highest of the sciences, in recent times." 
 
 His historical position, though he produced no ex- 
 tended work, is indicated by his high esteem among 
 the members of the Historical Society, of which he 
 was Corresj^onding Secretary. 
 
 His poetical leanings are indicated in his selection 
 as poet of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, in 1837, on 
 which occasion he gave the poem called " Psyche," 
 afterwards printed in pamphlet fonn, and in a small 
 volume published by his son, W. P. Lunt, " Glean- 
 ings," nine pieces from which are printed, by A. P. 
 Putnam, in his book entitled " Singers and Songs of 
 the Liberal Faith." These do not evidence an ex- 
 
1/6 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 alted range of genius, but show an ear for melody, a 
 talent for rhyme, and an enkindled spirit. The 
 author's type of theology comes out in them, as in 
 all his of compositions. His was essentially an old- 
 fashioned creed, built upon the text of Scripture, 
 interpreted according to moral methods ; a qualifica- 
 tion of the Puritan theology, some of the tenets 
 being discarded, as unauthorized by the Bible, or un- 
 sanctioned by natural feeling and conviction. " He 
 was more ready to accept than anxious to define 
 hallowed phrases. . . . His Puritan soul leaned 
 back, as far as it dared, towards ancient formulas." 
 His Dudleian lecture was a strong, impassioned 
 plea for a spiritual basis for religion, " Natural " 
 as well as " Revealed," taking as its subject, " The 
 Province and Functions of Faith." So was the ad- 
 dress to the alumni of the divinity school, on " The 
 Faculty of Imagination in its Relations to Religion." 
 -^ Faith, he maintained, was independent of reason. 
 Man had a religious nature, a spiritual vision, by 
 virtue of which he could behold supersensual realities 
 as plainly as the physical orb discerns the material 
 world. The soul has laws of its own ; and faith is one 
 of its organic endowments. Science and sociology 
 are excellent in themselves and to be heartily en- 
 couraged, but have nothing to do with religion. The 
 method of Bacon was, on the whole, disastrous to 
 faith, as awakening false expectations. Mr. Lunt's 
 aim seems to have been the necessity of finding 
 a philosophical ground that would justify the reli- 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 77 
 
 gious affections, — trust, veneration, charity, desire, 
 aspiration, love of the infinite and eternal. Of 
 theology, christology, bibliology, there was no 
 mention. A wide distinction is drawn between 
 Theology the rationale of religion and Religion 
 itself. With critical discussions Mr. Lunt appar- 
 ently gave himself little concern. He took the 
 creed which his sect, his education, or his tempera- 
 ment provided. " Controversial religion was not to 
 his liking. The biblical neologies of our new times 
 were an offense if not an alarm to him. He held the 
 literal Word reverently dear, although he endeav- 
 ored to give it an expansive scope, and sought 
 underneath it the most spiritual significances." 
 This quotation from my father's tribute to him 
 before the Historical Society, implies a dread of 
 intellectual processes in religion, a distrust of the 
 critical faculty, and a disposition to cling to the 
 ancient standards of belief as far as his moral senti- 
 ments would allow. Secular themes, politics in- 
 cluded, were banished from the pulpit, but the 
 pastor did not refrain from expressing his mind on 
 exciting topics of the day — spiritism and abolitionism 
 for example, — and his opinion was by no means 
 favorable to these, or any other disturbers of the 
 peace. 
 
 This extreme conservatism, in a time of excite- 
 ment, somewhat clouded the reputation of another 
 admirable minister, and obscured his fine gifts. I 
 refer to ChandleeRobbins. It was his boast, during 
 
178 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 the civil war — a period of intense excitement and 
 deep patriotic con\dction throughout the community, 
 when the pulpit even was expected to be sectional, 
 — that neither sermon, prayer nor hymn had, in his 
 church, reminded people of the strife. A painful 
 incident, illustrating his habit of mind (one cannot 
 call it apathy, or, on the other hand, an active hos- 
 tility to the Northern cause, but rather a stubborn 
 neutrality on political affairs), occurred at a meeting 
 of the Historical Society, to which Mr. Robbins 
 belonged. It was at one of the darkest episodes of 
 the war. Defeat had followed defeat. The credit 
 of the government Avas sinking. Conflict with 
 England seemed imminent. An informal conver- 
 sation on the situation went round the circle ; Mr. 
 Bobbins joined in and criticised the proceedings at 
 Washington, uttering sentiments that jarred on the 
 ears of loyalists. One of the members, an old man, 
 influential and honored, who had lost a son in battle, 
 bore it as long as he could, chafing and fretting in. 
 his chair ; but at length, unable to sit any longer, got 
 up, faced the offender, shook his clenched fist at him, 
 and ejaculated, " Then " (in the event of Northern 
 overthrow and bankruptcy) " we will all go to hell 
 together." Such was the temper of the people, and 
 it required courage to confront it. This Mr. Bob- 
 bins, be his conduct wise or foolish, did. It was the 
 same spirit that called the outcry against Emerson's 
 Divinity School address, a " vulgar clamor " and a 
 -' popular roar " ; the same spirit that prompted him, 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 79 
 
 after expressing the opiniou tliat Mr. Parker should 
 withdraw from the Unitarian Association when the 
 general feeling was against him, to write Mr. Parker 
 a letter, in which he said : 
 
 I felt most deeply the delicacy and the hard trial of your 
 situation, and am constrained to say that you sustained your- 
 self nobly. It would have been unjust to you to have been less 
 frank than we were. 
 
 The truth is, he was an inveterate peacemaker. 
 His motto should have been : " Truth if possible, 
 23eace at any I'ate." No doubt his failure to uphold 
 the Northern cause gave dissatisfaction to most of 
 his people. Many left him ; some disliked what they 
 deemed his stubborness ; and some were alienated by 
 what they considered his arrogance and diplomatic 
 astuteness ; to them he illustrated the '"'' 'perseverance 
 of the saints." But he was much beloved. He was 
 a minister born ; a real pnest and servant, Avith a 
 dignified manner, a sweet, grave, sympathetic coun- 
 tenance, a deep, mellow voice, a simple, straight- 
 forward address, an evangelical appearance. His 
 sermons were impressive, earnest, aimed directly at 
 the conversion of souls to Christ. He was an 
 excellent scholar in a rather distinguished class (that 
 of 1829), and came out of the Divinity School in 
 1833. It should not be forgotten that, while in 
 college, he showed remarkable courage in defending, 
 alone, or almost alone, a classmate whom he believed 
 to be wrongly accused of having betrayed a comrade 
 to the faculty, and who in consequence was cut off 
 
l8o BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 from all intercourse with Ms companions ; or that^ 
 while tutor in the Boston Latin School, he governed 
 the boys habitually by force of character, resorting 
 to corporal punishment once only, and then in a case 
 of wanton cruelty, where the offense was against 
 humanity. In the profession he succeeded R. W. 
 Emerson and Henry Ware, Jr., who had his eye on 
 him while yet a student, midway in his course at the 
 Divinity School. The people, after such preaching, 
 were delighted with him, gave him a unanimous call, 
 and listened to him more than forty years. When 
 he resigned, in 1874, he was the oldest-settled pastor 
 in Boston. 
 
 Chandler Robbins was an admirable historical 
 student ; an enthusiastic chronicler of the old Boston 
 story — the situation of his meeting-house, far down 
 in Hanover Street, lending helps to that taste ; — an 
 antiquarian of no mean pretension ; a poet too of 
 rare fervor, one of his hymns, 
 
 Lo the day of rest declineth ; 
 Gather fast the shades of night, 
 
 being a great favorite with worshippers of every 
 Christian name; an essayist of elegance and skill. 
 His researches were wide. I recollect his borrowing 
 from my father Colebrook's volume on "The Phi- 
 losophy of the Hindus " (in French). He was one 
 of the " Nine Worthies " celebrated in verse : 
 
 The calm expression of his air 
 
 Is tender and yet strong. 
 His fervors kindle into prayer 
 
 And melt in sacred song. 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. l8l 
 
 Andrew P. Peabody, in bis " Harvard Reminis- 
 cences," writes of him : 
 
 Dr. Robbins, several years before his death, met with an 
 accident which was probably the cause of his loss of sight. 
 From that time, darkness gathered over him by slow but sure 
 stages, with no hopeful intermission. He worked while he was 
 yet able cheerfully and earnestly ; and when the shadows 
 "became so dense that he could guide neither his pen nor his 
 step, he submitted, not as to the inevitable, but as to the hidden 
 mercy of a loving Providence. 
 
 Anotlier " worthy " who has, in his general repu- 
 tation, suffered a little by his love for secular things 
 — horses and festivities, — was Samuel Kiekland 
 LoTHROP, the incumbent of the Brattle Street pulpit 
 after John Gorham Palfrey and Edward Everett 
 and Joseph Stevens Buckminster. He is justly 
 described in the following lines from the poem that 
 has been quoted so often : 
 
 A frame of this world in a minister's gown 
 
 And good in them both ; — though a whip and athletic, 
 
 In his whole sacred office devout, sympathetic. 
 
 He is ready of speech and in fervor of spirit 
 
 Tells his mind without caring to polish or shear it, 
 
 Or to deck it out fine with rhetorical rays ; 
 
 It is good as it stands and quite sure of its praise, 
 
 His genius runs prose, studies doctrines not graces, 
 
 And sees always the facts in all manner of cases. 
 
 O'er the highways of thought he moves wide and at ease. 
 
 With no time for its nooks and small taste for its seas. 
 
 And in Church and in State a conservative stout, 
 
 Is "aye ready " for battle, with arms or without. 
 
 A man of large nature, a man of affairs. 
 
 Whose honest, brave soul in his manner he wears. 
 
 Should you see him at times when his spirit mounts warm, 
 
 With his hands in a clench and his brow in a storm, 
 
 You might take him for some rough Dictator or other ; 
 
 But look at him close, he 's all Christian and brother. 
 
l82 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 From tliis sketch it may safely be inferred that 
 Dr. Lothrop's genius was more practical than specu- 
 lative ; that he was gifted with common-sense rather 
 than with intellectual keenness, with human sa- 
 gacity rather than with spiritual insight. According 
 to my own observation, he was a model ecclesiastic, 
 — not a priest of the Continental type, but an Eng- 
 lish bishop with the freedom of an American clergy- 
 man. With him the Church was an institution, and 
 he was one of its appointed administrators. His 
 fame as a preacher was not especially great. He 
 was not reputed a prophet or seer. But he was 
 exceedingly valuable as a minister. He had an 
 imposing presence, a handsome countenance, a 
 sonorous voice, a bluff, cordial manner, a hearty 
 address, ready speech, a forcible pen. His dress 
 was always in good order, his linen was of the 
 whitest, his broadcloth of the blackest ; but this was 
 simply a personal, not an official, incident, an ex- 
 pression of his sense of neatness, of propriety, which 
 would have appeared whatever his business was. 
 His natural affections were warm, responsive, sensi- 
 tive, as well abroad as at home, in his official as in 
 his domestic relations. His conscientiousness was 
 robust, his purpose humane, his aim, as a minister, 
 high if not ideal. He was alive to the social privi- 
 leges of his profession, the acquaintance of distin- 
 guished men, the easy access to the best society, the 
 open door into the human breast on occasions of 
 perplexity or sorrow, the demand for a clerical pres- 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 83 
 
 ence at civic or national observances ; but he did not 
 forget tliat he was a minister of the gospel, nor did 
 he fail to impart some higher flavor to the festivities 
 he engaged in. In the purlieus of the profession, to 
 which, it is needless to say, he devoted himself most 
 assiduously and acceptably, his industry was im- 
 mense. He had the interests of education deeply at 
 heart, served on committees, visited schools, wrote 
 reports, oifered suggestions, pressed reforms, was an 
 active member of committees, and, in every way was 
 most efiicacious. His work at charitable organiza- 
 tions was incessant and laborious. He was president 
 or secretary of innumerable societies, and he made 
 his influence felt in them all. His interest in mu- 
 nicipal. State, and national concerns was great and 
 manifest. He was an ardent Whig, and let the 
 citizen show through the clergyman's gown. The 
 tributes paid to him after his death by ministers of 
 renown spoke volumes in his praise. The respect 
 and affection in which he was held were universally 
 attested. Dr. Walker once said that if he were in 
 need of pastoral ofiices there was no one he should 
 go to sooner than to Dr. Lothrop. Wherever re- 
 ligion came into contact with human affairs, there he 
 was at home. There he was most felicitous. I have 
 heard him speak at weddings and at funerals, when 
 it seemed that nothing could be better, and what 
 he was 
 
 in the dark Gethsemane 
 Of pain, and midnight prayer, 
 
 the afflicted alone can tell. 
 
1 84 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 After Dr. Lotlu^op's death, the Boston Association 
 of Congregational Ministers, of which he was a lead- 
 ing man for half a century and Moderator nearly 
 seventeen years, thi'ough a special committee paid 
 him a warm tribute. Here is a part of it : 
 
 No one among us was so thoroughly acquainted with the history, cus- 
 toms, and laws of our Congregational churches. And in the whole Con- 
 gregational body not more than one or two others during the last forty years 
 had made himself so intimately and personally acquainted with the wants 
 and trials of ministers' bereaved families left widowed or fatherless in great 
 destitution or with wholly inadequate means of support. But while the 
 labors of his life reached through these wider relationships, he was most 
 beloved and honored by those who knew him best. For they were made to 
 feel as others could not, the Christian faith which bore him up under the 
 heaviest bereavements, and the Christian kindliness and charity which 
 " never failed," but kept the sweetness and the cheerfulness of his disposition 
 untouched by the sorest trials and disappointments. 
 
 The temper of aggressive reform came in, so far as 
 I can remember, with John Pi|:rpont, of Hollis 
 Street. Things invisible had not much interest for 
 him. Things theological possessed little attraction. 
 The bent of his mind was ethical rather than ethe- 
 real. His first profession was law, which he studied 
 and practised, having been regularly admitted to the 
 bar of Essex County. This not proving gainful, 
 owing to the confusion incident to the War of 1812, 
 he tried business, in Boston and Baltimore, but was 
 not successful. Then, at the age of thirty-four, he 
 entered the ministry, bringing an ability that had 
 been trained in other fields, and a spirit of self-asser- 
 tion such as the Boston clergy were not accustomed 
 to. His interest in social reforms, especially in 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 85 
 
 temperance, anti-slavery, j)rison discipline, began be- 
 fore he occupied the pulpit, and his outspokenness 
 stirred up commotion in the tranquil community of 
 believers, who were very mild in their reprobation 
 of social abuses, and confined themselves to general 
 moral exhortations. Discontent was expressed by 
 him early, and in 1838 a controversy arose in the 
 parish which led to the summoning of an ecclesias- 
 cal council to pronounce on the minister's conduct 
 and to consider the relations between pastor and 
 peoj)le. The result of the warfare was favorable to 
 Mr. Pierpont, who gained the victory and thereupon 
 resigned his place. The controversy is interesting 
 here as illustrating the attitude of parishioners tow- 
 ards the minister at that time, the sentiment of the 
 Boston Unitarian churches on the subject of social 
 agitation, as Avell as the temper of Mr. Pierpont, 
 which might have converted more had it been more 
 persuasive. The truth is that he was fond of con- 
 flict. He was essentially a fighter. At the age of 
 seventy-six he enlisted as chaplain in a Massachu- 
 setts regiment, and served as long as he could bear 
 the fatigue, which was not long. Had he been in- 
 terested in theology he would have been a contro- 
 versialist, as, indeed, he was to a limited extent. 
 Even his poetry has a martial ring, the strains of 
 pure melody coming in like the sound of flutes in a 
 military band. Some of the strains were exceed- 
 ingly sweet, but the whole eifect was stimulating, 
 exciting, stirring, thrilling. A vein of heroism ran 
 
1 86 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 through the man, prompted him to take up unpopu- 
 lar causes that demanded courage, determination, 
 vigor, in their champion, great activity of mind, force 
 of will, executive talent. There was nothing origi- 
 nal in his theological speculations, which were char- 
 acterized rather by logical astuteness than by depth 
 of thought. Spiritual insight was not his strong 
 point. But, for the rest, he was a charming compan- 
 ion, hilarious, witty, full of anecdotes, an excellent 
 scholar, according to the standard of the time, a wide 
 reader, a man of large intelligence. The Unitarians 
 of Boston were a little afi'aid of him, and shrank 
 somewhat from his direct, incisive type of mind, but 
 he was a valuable ally of their cause. 
 
 A veiy important and influential person was Con- 
 VEES Feancis, minister at Watertown and afterward 
 professor in the Divinity School of Cambridge. I 
 have elsewhere described him as " one of those rare 
 men whom too few appreciate ; a liberal scholar, in 
 the best sense of the phrase ; learned without ped- 
 antry ; open to the light from every quarter ; an 
 enormous reader of books ; a great student of Ger- 
 man philosophy and divinity, as very few at that 
 time were. The newest criticism and speculation 
 were on his table and in his mind. He was abso- 
 lutely free from dogmatism, — the dogmatism of the 
 liberal as well as the dogmatism of the conservative. 
 The students of Cambridge, when he afterwards 
 became professor in the Divinity School, found fault 
 with him for being too " all-sided " — non-committal, 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 18/ 
 
 they called it, — understandiug neither bis respect for 
 their minds nor his reverence for the tnith. He was 
 a conscientious, natural eclectic, with as few intel- 
 lectual prejudices as it is well possible to have. His 
 lectures and sermons were full of suggestions, open- 
 ing out lines of thought in every direction, emi- 
 nently useful but eminently unsatisfactory to such 
 as wanted opinions formulated for filing away. It 
 was a happy, cordial, cheery mind, with extensive 
 prospects from all the windows ; he had an intellec- 
 tual atmosphere it was a delight to inhale. Here 
 were books without stint ; here was a friend, an inter- 
 preter, and a sympathetic inquirer. Unfortunately, 
 Dr. Francis was not possessed of force of will corre- 
 sponding to all this wealth of equipment. He was 
 not qualified to be a leader. But as a stimulator of 
 thought, as a reservoir of extra-Christian erudition, 
 his influence was felt through the denomination. He 
 was one of the educators of Theodore Parker, and 
 though he himself kept within denominational lines, 
 and was never out of repute among his brethren, he 
 was a herald of the new time. Parker wrote to Di*. 
 Francis in 1842 : " No one who helped in my ordina- 
 tion will now exchange ministerial courtesies with 
 me." Now Dr. Francis preached the sermon ; yet 
 Parker always maintained hearty relations with him, 
 acknowledging the service he was rendering, and 
 feeling sure of his substantial sympathy. Francis 
 was at heart a transcendentalist and a reformer ; a 
 friend of Emerson and of Pierpont, but he could not 
 
 1/ 
 
BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 break the ties that held him to his sect ; he did not 
 feel the necessity of doing so ; his theory of influence 
 recommending to him the wisdom of preserving ex- 
 isting relations. He said once that he who defies 
 public opinion, like the man who spit in the wind, 
 spits in his own face. His practice went with his 
 teaching. 
 
 It is difficult to do full justice to such a man, to 
 decide how much, in his conduct, was due to cau- 
 tion, and how much to impartiality. We can only 
 classify him as an Erasmus ; but Holbein's portrait 
 of Erasmus would not answer for him at all. In- 
 stead of that calm, pale, passionless, thoughtful face, 
 there is a full, ruddy countenance with an alert, 
 eager expression, a look of inquiry, upward and for- 
 ward turned as if expecting some new thing in the 
 future, a jocund, cordial man with a vast deal of hu- 
 man nature in him. He was delighted when he 
 could guide, advise, or help young men ; was no 
 recluse, and yet no man of the world, but a man of 
 letters, hospitable, humane, with a real belief in 
 mind, and the smallest faith in tradition of any sort. 
 His writings were mainly of a historical or biographi- 
 cal character. The life of Rev. John Eliot, the 
 Apostle to the Indians, in Sparks' " American Biog- 
 raphy," was by him. The Massachusetts Historical 
 Society honored him by a memoir. He was the 
 most modest and diffident of men ; too modest, too 
 self-distrustful for immediate effect. Had he pos- 
 sessed more self-assei'tion, he would have been 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 89 
 
 famous. Humility is an excellent quality, but it is 
 not operative without a strong personality, as his 
 was not. He had convictions, but no force to oppose 
 them. He himself was a decided Unitarian of the 
 ordinary school, and many passages in his sermons 
 asserted his faith in the miraculous mission of Jesus, 
 but his love of heroism, sincerity, truthfulness, led 
 him to praise people whose views he dissented from. 
 He respected mind. He was an inspirer of mind, 
 and his influence in broadening the liberal pulpit 
 was second to that of no one, as his successor, John 
 Weiss, has said most eloquently and shown most con- 
 vincingly. Whenever humanity was in question, as 
 it was in the case of slavery, his sentiments were 
 expressed firmly, courageously, and without regard to 
 ancestors. Here there could not be two sides, nor 
 were his opinions uttered in doubtful language. On 
 this matter, he thought, the pulj^it should be open 
 for protest at all times. 
 
 Among the men who did honor to the Unitarian 
 name was one not distinguished as preacher or 
 writer, or for other shining gifts, but eminent for 
 sheer goodness, and an admirable example of the 
 piety that was, as often as in any sect, associated 
 with the Unitarian belief. We must not forget Na- 
 thaniel Hall, of Dorchester, an earnest, devoted 
 Christian, a man without guile if there ever was one. 
 There was nothing peculiar in his faith. At his 
 ordination, July 16, 1835, E. B. Hall, of Providence, 
 his brother, preached the sermon ; Dr. Pierce offered 
 
190 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 the prayer ; Dr. Palfrey gave the charge ; George 
 Putnam tendered the right hand of fellowship ; Dr. 
 Parkman made the address to the people : a pretty 
 good evidence of conservative leanings. At the 
 twenty-fifth anniversary of the settlement, July 16, 
 1860, there was nothing to indicate a departure from 
 the accustomed ways of thinking in religion. At 
 his death hearty tributes were paid by men like 
 James F. Clarke, Andrew P. Peabody, George W. 
 Briggs, James W. Thompson. But convictions are 
 always radical, and here was a man of convictions. 
 Mr. Hall began life as a clerk in a store ; then he 
 served as secretary in an insurance office. But 
 neither of these pursuits satisfied the hunger of his 
 soul. He had aspirations after an ideal calling. He 
 entered the Divinity School at Cambridge, was 
 graduated thence in 1834, and the next year was 
 chosen colleague pastor with Thaddeus Mason 
 Harris, in Dorchester, who resigned his charge in 
 1836. From that time Mr. Hall was the pastor, and 
 remained in Dorchester till the end of his life, in 
 1875. He was a minister forty years, a most devoted 
 one, the true friend of his people, taking a warm 
 interest in their children, and concerning himself 
 with all their spiritual affairs. He had a " true and 
 effectual " calling from on high ; was not pushed 
 into the profession, or educated for it, or destined to 
 it by ambitious relatives, but summoned to it by an 
 inward impulse from heaven. He was all minister 
 without the smallest reservation. The moral laws 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. I9I 
 
 ran through his nature. Hence it was no violation 
 of them but the simplest observance, v^hen he gave 
 expression to humane sentiments and tried to impress 
 upon his congregation the claims of the slave. For 
 there was an element of firmness in him, an unyield- 
 ing persistency when conscience was involved, that 
 w^ould give way to no blandishments. His was not 
 a pulpy goodness ; there was mr in his virtue. There 
 were verses about " righteousness " among the " Beati- 
 tudes," and these he heeded. JSTor did he feel that 
 he had discharged his whole duty to the Sermon on 
 the Mount as long as these were silently omitted. 
 Many were the beseechings, many the remonstrances, 
 many the rebukes, many the desertions, many the 
 departures from the meeting-house as the unwelcome 
 message was delivered, but no eifect was produced. 
 There was organized opposition, still the preacher 
 persevered, retaining the cordial respect of his op- 
 ponents. For nothing personal mingled with his 
 admonitions. There was no invective, no rancor, 
 no sarcasm, no innuendo. The exposition was calm, 
 the argument unimpassioned, the appeal dignified. 
 Nothing inflammatory tainted the discourse. The 
 moral force was felt through the sermon even by 
 objectors, who sometimes expressed regret at their 
 rudeness. To the charge of introducing politics into 
 the pulpit he replied : 
 
 The pulpit stands before the community as the visible 
 representative, the public organ, the accredited voice of its 
 religion. Should it fail of bearing testimony, openly and 
 
192 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 unequivocally against this wrong, what would be the un- 
 authorized inference from such failure, — the natural language 
 of it ? Would it not be, that religion, as such, had no rebuke 
 for it, — had nothing to do with it ? . . . An impression, I 
 learn, exists with some of you, that, in allowing the anti-slavery 
 enterprise to find continued advocacy in this pulpit, I have 
 been untrue to some expressions in the sermon at my return 
 [from Europe, where he had been], — expressions which were 
 understood, most strangely, to involve a confession of regret 
 at my past course in relation to this enterprise, and the avowal 
 of a purpose to avoid its repetition. I desire to say, that not 
 the slightest shadow of such an idea ever entered my mind. 
 No ! No ! Among the things in the past which I regret, and 
 they are many, this, believe me, is not one. Among the reso- 
 lutions with which I crossed anew the threshold of my work, 
 there was none of desistance from the advocacy of this holy 
 cause. Its summoning trump, heard long years ago, — heard, 
 and, I bless God, heeded, — wakes still its echoes in my soul ; 
 and when I shall willingly be disobedient to it may the earth 
 miss me, and its befriending turf conceal me ! Circumstances 
 require that I should be explicit in this matter. This, there- 
 fore, I desire to say, that I stand here in perfect freedom, or I 
 stand not here at all ; and that, in the exercise of that freedom, 
 among the subjects that will be introduced here, is that of 
 righteousness in its application to the great sin of the nation, 
 — to American slavery. 
 
 To the question " what good will such discussion 
 do ? " Mr. Hall made answer : 
 
 I do not know ; I do not care to know. Ask Him who 
 formed the soul for truth, to find therein its sustenance and 
 salvation, and whose kingdom is to come in the world only 
 through his blessing upon the spoken and manifested truth. 
 Ask him who " for this end was born, and for this cause came 
 into the world, that He might bear witness to the truth," and 
 who bore witness to it against scoff and sneer, the frown of 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 93 
 
 power, and the threatening of hate, in the sublime faith that it 
 would win for itself, at length, a universal triumph. Ask the 
 thousands who, in a like faith, have lived and died for it, — 
 lived in persecution, died in martyrdom ; scattering as they 
 went, on the world's bleak waysides, its celestial seeds, to spring 
 and bloom above their graves. 
 
 These are touching words of deep, unselfish con- 
 viction, such as none but an heroic, trusting soul 
 could speak. A moral power at least must have 
 gone out of them, and reached the heart. Such a 
 power did throb in many consciences that could not 
 give it such eloquent expression. Unitarianism cer- 
 tainly lent itself to like persuasions. The cardinal 
 doctrine of the essential uprightness of human 
 nature, of the native capacity of man — ^that is, of 
 development instead of conversion, encouraged efforts 
 to remove restrictions, to take away social barriers, 
 to emancipate mankind from needless oppression, 
 and give people a chance to expand. We saw 
 this result in Channing, Emerson, Ripley, Pierpont, 
 Parker, Clarke, Hall, Francis, Weiss, Wasson, Ellis, 
 Willson, and many another. On the other hand, 
 Unitarianism was the relisrion of the educated, the 
 refined, the scholarly, the wealthy, the leaders of 
 society. Great merchants, politicians, statesmen, 
 judges were apt to be members of Unitarian congre- 
 gations. This influence was strongly conservative 
 of the existing order, and threw the weight of 
 public opinion against agitation or reform. Of 
 
 course, this power was felt most in Boston and the 
 13 
 
194 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 neighborhood; in remote country towns and vil- 
 lages it was hardly perceptible, so that it required a 
 good deal of courage to resist the ruling sentiment 
 and maintain the independence of the pulpit when 
 "t was measured by the respectability of the pews. 
 
 Then there were differences of temperament, and 
 of culture, more pronounced among the educated 
 than among the unlettered, as they probed issues 
 deeper, had a greater variety of interests, possessed 
 a more complicated individuality. Some ministers 
 frankly defended slavery, claiming, with Edward 
 Everett (a Unitarian by the way), that it was " a 
 condition of life, as well as any other to be justified 
 by morality, religion, and international law." Such 
 men did not have in view the principle which in- 
 sisted on freedom as a condition of moral enfran- 
 chisement wholly without regard to the misery of 
 the slaves. Others were quite unconcerned about 
 the matter, holding that it was none of their busi- 
 ness, and were absorbed in matters close at hand. 
 The " violence " of the Abolitionists, their denuncia- 
 tion of all slave-holders, offended the daintier or 
 more scrupulous minds. Many contended that their 
 duty was to their churches, and that this duty was 
 confined to the task of building up in them a Chris- 
 tian character, leaving to them the details of conduct. 
 A few were timid, but not many. The charge of 
 hypocrisy cannot be sustained. And certainly it is 
 not for ordinary mortals to blame those who could 
 not withstand the steady, universal pressure of the 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 95 
 
 distinguished, the wise, and the respected, whose 
 judgment in other affairs was supreme. None but 
 heroic souls can do that. We may classify them, 
 but we may not denounce them. Let us honor 
 the faithful; let us leave the unfaithful to their 
 consciences. 
 
 This was the old quarrel, handed down to the 
 Whigs and Democrats of a later day from the 
 Federalists and Republicans of an earlier period. 
 In 1801, Theodore D wight, in an oration delivered 
 at New Haven, July 7th, said, — I quote from Henry 
 Adams'. " History of the United States," vol. i., p. 225 : 
 
 The great object of Jacobinism, both in its political and 
 moral revolution, is to destroy every trace of civilization in the 
 world, and to force mankind back into a savage state . . . 
 That is, in plain English, the greatest villain in the community 
 is the fittest person to make and execute the laws. . . . We 
 have now reached the consummation of democratic blessed- 
 ness. We have a country governed by blockheads and knaves ; 
 the ties of marriage, with all its felicities, are severed and de- 
 stroyed ; our wives and daughters are thrown into the stews ; 
 our children are cast into the world from the breasts and 
 forgotten ; filial piety is extinguished, and our surnames, the 
 only mark of distinction among families, are abolished. Can 
 the imagination paint any thing more dreadful on this side 
 hell? 
 
 E,ev. Joseph Buckminster, of Portsmouth, New 
 Hampshire, father of Joseph Stevens Buckminster, 
 said in a sermon on Washington's death : 
 
 I would not be understood to insinuate that contemners of 
 religious duties [he had Jefferson in mindl, and even men void 
 of religious principle, may not have an attachment to their 
 
196 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 country and a desire for its civil and political prosperity ; . . . 
 but by their impiety . . . they take away the heavenly de- 
 fence and security of a people, and render it necessary for him 
 who ruleth over the nations in judgment to testify his dis- 
 pleasure against those who despise his laws and contemn his 
 ordinances. (Adams, i., 81.) 
 
 His son, probably, shared his opinion ; for a writer 
 in the Boston Anthology, January, 1807, thus ex- 
 pressed the sentiments of the literary class : 
 
 We know that in this land, where the spirit of democracy is 
 everywhere diffused, we are exposed, as it were, to a poisonous 
 atmosphere, which blasts every thing beautiful in nature, and 
 corrodes every thing elegant in art. (Adams, i., 99.) 
 
 Enough account is not generally made of the pure- 
 ly social element in the opposition of the Unitarian 
 ministers, as a rule, to the Abolitionists. They were 
 gentlemen; they occupied a high position in the 
 community ; they belong to a privileged order ; they 
 were inclined to honor great people. It was, in this 
 resjject, unfortunate that they had so many eminent 
 men in their congregations. Such characters as 
 Daniel Webster, Edward Everett, Amos A. Law- 
 rence, could not but influence the opinions of those 
 who lived out of the political and commercial world. 
 Ordinary modesty would have prompted an attitude 
 of deference, and a most extraordinary moral con- 
 viction Avas required to resist their knowledge and 
 power. Saints might have witliL^tood them ; heroes 
 might ; but heroes and saints were few, and the city 
 clergymen who could rise above social considerations 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 97 
 
 deserve far more credit tlian they got. They were 
 possessed of remarkable courage. With the solitary 
 exception of Wendell Phillips, who was regarded as 
 an aristocratic demagogue, the Abolitionists were 
 poor, humble, despised people, of no influence ; men 
 one could not ask to dine, who were not respected 
 " on change," who had no place in halls of legisla- 
 tion, who were the natural antagonists of the refined 
 and well esteemed. It is quite possible that, if the 
 situation had been reversed, the Unitarian ministers 
 would have been more anti-slavery than they were, 
 for they had humanity enough to temper social 
 prejudice, but not enough to surmount it. As it was, 
 they were staunch Whigs, hated the very name of 
 Jefferson, dreaded Democracy, abhorred what they 
 called Jacobinism, which seemed to them allied with 
 "infidelity," and were strenuous upholders of Union 
 and peace. The following lines of my father on 
 Daniel Webster, written at sunset, October 22, 1852, 
 show the bent of their feeling. 
 
 Sink, thou Autumnal Sun ! 
 The trees will miss the radiance of thine eye, 
 Clad in their Joseph-coat of many a dye ; 
 The clouds will miss thee in the fading sky ; 
 But now in other scenes thy race must rim, 
 
 This day of glory done. 
 
 Sink, thou of nobler light ! 
 The land will mourn thee in its darkening hour ; 
 Its heavens grow gray at thy retiring power. 
 Thou shining orb of mind, thou beacon-tower ! 
 Be thy great memory still a guardian might, 
 
 ^\^len thou art gone from sight. 
 
198 BOSTON UNITAKIANISM. 
 
 Longfellow's praise of the Union, at the end of 
 his poem, " The Building of the Ship," is in point, 
 as illustrating the faith of a prominent layman. 
 
 Thou too, sail on, O Ship of State ! 
 
 Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! 
 
 Humanity with all its fears 
 
 Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes are all with thee. 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears. 
 
 Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
 
 Are all with thee, are all with thee ! 
 
 This was in them a faith, a real faith, a faith in 
 civilization, progress, amity, friendship, humanity, 
 the interests of the intellectual world, the future 
 destinies of society. The Union meant power of 
 conscience, the sway of moral sentiment, the predom- 
 inance of the best. Love for it was, by no means, 
 inconsistent with a sincere detestation of slavery, but 
 slavery was perhaps hated less than Union was loved. 
 Moreover, the Union of the States was regai'ded 
 as the ultimate pledge of the extinction of slavery, 
 as the civil war afterwards proved it was, for eman- 
 cipation was an episode in the attempt to save the 
 Union by Mr. Lincoln. And then, too, slavery was 
 honestly supposed to be really on the decline though 
 apparently increasing in power, while other evils as 
 great as slavery, if not greater, — evils insej^arable 
 from anarchy, — seemed sure to follow upon disin- 
 tejxration. The demand of the Abolitionists for dis- 
 union made them peculiarly offensive to these pa- 
 triots. The demand might, in their judgment, be 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 1 99 
 
 logical enough, but against it were sentiment and 
 charity and the forces of civilization, which, though 
 it worked slowly, worked surely and beneficently. 
 The process of elevating any portion of mankind 
 was long, requiring much patience, and they who 
 thought to effect it at once by an ethical impulse, 
 fell into a most disastrous misconception. Long- 
 fellow's close intimacy with Charles Sumner attested 
 his own anti-slavery feeling, and doubtless he be- 
 lieved that a general moral sentiment that would en- 
 sure final emancipation must somehow result from 
 the influence of Northern ideas, reinforced by prin- 
 ciple and rendered humane by pity. Thus a hearty 
 belief in the future of the Union, bringing into ex- 
 ercise, as it was confidently supposed, all the ele- 
 ments of the highest attainment, promised a blood- 
 less solution of the problem of negro servitude. It 
 was thought that the Abolitionists did more harm 
 than good, inasmuch as they discouraged the finest 
 sentiments of humanity, — peace, charity, brotherly 
 kindness, hope of progress, — and erected a single 
 trait, moral indignation, above every grace of culti- 
 vated chai'acter inculcated in the New Testament. 
 It would be wiser, some maintained, to buy the 
 slaves outright, than to risk an agitation that would 
 certainly alienate friendly feeling and render re- 
 monstrance unavailing, even if it did not provoke 
 recrimination and hatred. Such was the faith of 
 some very trustful souls. 
 
 I have said that the social element entered largely 
 
2CX) BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 into the Unitarian opposition to the Abolitionists, 
 It was, in great measure, responsible for the dislike 
 of democratic institutions. This dislike was very- 
 old, and had a most respectable parentage in Massa- 
 chusetts ; John Winthrop, the predecessor of Wash- 
 ington, and men of his stamp, distrusted them. In a 
 letter summarized by Winthrop himself at the end 
 of his history, and quoted by Koger Williams, he 
 said : " The best part of a community is always the 
 least, and of that least part the wiser are still less " ; 
 a maxim which is true enough, and would be 
 decisive if the question concerned an aristocracy 
 and not a republic, in which all the people, culti- 
 vated or uncultiv^ated, must have charge of their 
 own interests as governors of themselves. " Civil 
 liberty," he writes in his speech on government, " is 
 liberty to do that only which is good, just, and 
 honest " ; which reminds one of Milton's lines about 
 those 
 
 That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood 
 And still revolt when truth would set them free. 
 License they mean when they cry liberty ; 
 
 For who loves that, must first be wise and good. 
 
 How often have I heard those lines cited, as if the 
 truism they contained settled the whole matter of 
 freedom ! 
 
 The association of the highest order of virtue with 
 aristocratic leanings rendered the sentiment exceed- 
 ingly seductive. The conservatives, as a rule, were 
 high-toned men, though not all high-toned men were 
 conservative. They relied on character ; they were 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 20I 
 
 friends of education, instruction, knowledge. They 
 respected excellence, and it seemed to them certain 
 that obscure men, tied down to sordid needs, could 
 not have lofty minds — must be fanatics. If Daniel 
 Webster had been mean, if Edward Everett had 
 been base, if William Prescott had been servile, or 
 George Ticknor a scoundrel, the case might have 
 been altered. As it was, " righteousness and peace 
 kissed each other." Doyle's remark is justified that 
 Winthrop's blameless integrity disarmed suspicion 
 of some of his opinions. 
 
 In the meantime it should be noticed that the 
 criticism of motives was as generous as it was infre- 
 quent. There was a cordial fellowship between 
 those who held the most opposite opinions on these 
 and other questions of applied morals. It was taken 
 for granted that the fundamental principles of 
 humanity were cherished by every preacher of right- 
 eousness ; that all were lovers of their fellow-men ; 
 that each was honest in his conception of duty; 
 that there was room for different readings of the 
 minister's calling. There was little or no jealousy, 
 and absolutely no ill-will. In a fraternity as large 
 and comprehensive, where the purely literary spirit 
 was so prominent, and the temptations to worldli- 
 ness were so numerous, this is saying a good deal. 
 
 But in the case of Mr. Hall it was felt that opposi- 
 tion to slavery was simply and wholly an act of 
 duty, a part of his religion, and was respected accord- 
 ingly. His sense of humanity was outraged by the 
 
202 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 system; liis moral principle was shocked by its in- 
 justice ; his conception of Christianity as a religion 
 of brotherly love was insulted ; personally, in his 
 soul, he felt the disgrace and shame of such an insti- 
 tution. His opposition to slavery was not a matter 
 of temper, or of temperament, it was a matter of 
 principle. If he had considered social or profes- 
 sional consequences, he would have held his peace. 
 But a conviction like his could not regard conse- 
 quences, could not see them. His was a real call to 
 the ministry. It was the dream of his youth, a 
 genuine hunger of the heart. Necessity compelled 
 him to earn money in business, but destiny decreed 
 that his early longing should be carried out. The 
 firm he was first connected with, at the age of 15, 
 failed when he had been there a year and a half, so 
 that he was thrown out of employment. The second, 
 a ship-chandlery, on Long Wharf, was closing up, 
 and his time there was lost, at any rate, for the work 
 was entirely imcongenial. Then he became secretary 
 of an insurance office, but the labor was exhausting, 
 the associations were any thing but encouraging, and 
 the old desire returned in its orio-inal force. He 
 saved up a little money — enough, he thought in his 
 ignorance, — went away, much against the wishes of 
 his parents and friends, and began to study with a 
 brother who was a clergyman at Northampton. The 
 brother had to go off for his health, and Nathaniel 
 went with him. Here was more precious time lost ; 
 the scanty means were diminished ; and the prospect 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 203 
 
 seemed as far off as ever. But he persevered in the 
 face of all discouragements, including the temporary 
 displeasure of an uncle (P. C. Brooks), whose wealth 
 had been an important aid to him. It was a long 
 experience of patience, and courage, and aspiration, 
 and devotion to an ideal. That devotion conquered 
 at last, and he soon vindicated the truth as well as 
 the fervency of his longing. His uncle was by and 
 by brought around, and became the most efficient of 
 helpers. How he dared to enter the Divinity School 
 was a marvel, but he did. It is needless to say that 
 he worked hard. For the larger part of three years 
 he boarded himself at an expense of seventy -five 
 cents a week. It is a wonder that he lived to be 70 
 years old. He left the Divinity School in 1834, and 
 in 1835 was ordained, his inward preparation making 
 amends for the lack of colleo-e trainino;. 
 
 A conviction of the reality of spiritual things was 
 the strong feature of his character. This rendered 
 business of every kind distasteful to him, and 
 obliged him to abandon all his situations ; this 
 carried him to the Divinity School and kept him 
 there in spite of his hardships and insufficient train- 
 ing ; this ensured him an honored place in the min- 
 istry ; this gave him firmness of resistance when it 
 became necessary to assert his anti-slavery convic- 
 tions ; this confirmed his gentleness when that was of 
 first importance to hold the affections of his people, 
 and won over many of his opponents ; this held him 
 close to the bosom of his brethren ; this made him 
 
204 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 expansive in his sympathies. For the scientific^, 
 critical, speculative aspects of belief, he cared little ; 
 for the humane, spiritual aspects of it he cared much. 
 Hence his large tolerance of men whose opinions he 
 could not share, — men like Parker for instance, — 
 and hence his disposition to penetrate beneath the 
 letter of Scripture to its inner moral significance, a 
 disposition that might be dangerous when not 
 guarded by strong good-sense. His natural con- 
 science revolted at once, without a struggle, from the 
 doctrine of Calvinism, so that he was always a Uni- 
 tarian at heart ; controversy was no more distasteful 
 to him than it was unnecessary ; and it cost him no 
 ejffort to be generous. He was a born Christian in 
 the best sense of the word, humble, self-forgetting, 
 devout, with self-renouncing, unambitious temper, 
 simple-minded, pure-souled, loving to serve ; no 
 priest by profession, but a minister of the gospel^ 
 and nothing else. 
 
 I say all this partly in order to show how com- 
 pletely spontaneous Unitarianism may be, and 
 partly to vindicate its essential religiousness when 
 relieved of its dogmatic character. It can produce 
 saints, and does when allowed full scope. The 
 reproach that it is an intellectual system purely, is 
 entirely removed by an experience like Nathaniel 
 Hall's. Here, at least, was a man who did not have 
 to be apologized for ; who was not merely true to 
 his convictions, but whose convictions were worth 
 being true to ; a man in whom the want of an intel- 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 20$ 
 
 lectual brilliancy was a positive advantage as throw- 
 ing into strong relief the spiritual elements of 
 character. Of course it will be objected that, in 
 this case, the native temperament fell in with the 
 superinduced creed. But this, too, is an advantage, 
 inasmuch as the whole man was exhibited, and the 
 fitness of the creed to a positive, strong disposition 
 is demonstrated. The absence of conflict, where the 
 faith is sincere, is a commendation of the faith ; and 
 when the disposition, coming first, forms its belief, 
 the belief is apt to be vital, acting as a reinforcement 
 to stimulate what is already powerful. Much has 
 been said, and with great show of reason, in behalf 
 of the victory of faith over desire, but, after all, 
 time and strength are spent in such moral conflict, 
 and, if the victory be won finally, the result is the 
 same as when there is no conflict at all, while the 
 vigor of the best years is secured to religion. There 
 is no foundation equal to that of goodness, and if 
 religion builds the superstructure according to its 
 own design, we are sure of a perfect edifice. Of 
 course religion must do the building. One cannot 
 live in even the most admirable cellar. But religion, 
 to be complete, needs a foundation, and a firm foun- 
 dation is more to be desired than an unsound one ; 
 an adequate foundation is especially desirable, 
 instead of one that must be made over anew out of 
 the miserable materials of a disordered nature that 
 has no ready conscience, no sensitive heart, and no 
 loyal will. 
 
2o6 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 Most of these men were writers in tlie Christian 
 Examiner^ many of them often, and at length, 
 giving their best work to it, and elaborating for it 
 their ripest ideas. The Examiner was, on the 
 whole, a perfect representative of the body — broad, 
 free, elastic, undoginatical, unecclesiastical, literary. 
 It was not a money-making magazine, trading on the 
 popular reputations of distinguished men, but a real 
 organ of thought, and its final decease was a serious 
 loss, not to the denomination alone, bat to the cause 
 of enlightened mind. The best scholars conducted 
 it, the best writers contributed to it. It lived on 
 the vitality of the Unitarian movement, and it died 
 when that movement became less distinctive, more 
 social and more secular. Its history shows its force. 
 In the true sense of the word, it was a development 
 from the Montlily Anthology^ a magazine half theo- 
 logical and half literary, the mouthpiece of the 
 Anthology Club, a coterie made up of Unitarian 
 ministers and laymen. The pastor of the First 
 Church, William Emerson, was a member ; the pas- 
 tor of the Brattle Street Church, J. S. Buckminster, 
 the brilliant preacher and talker, the enthusiast for 
 intellectualism in its fullest extent, as well Greek as 
 Hebrew, classical as biblical ; the pastor of the New 
 South, S. C. Thacher ; Joseph Tuckerman, the phi- 
 lanthropist ; John Thornton Kirkland, of whom 
 nothing more need be said here ; several lawyers 
 and physicians, afterwards eminent ; all together the 
 ornaments of society, the most accomplished men of 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 20/ 
 
 letters of the time, belonged to the Anthology Club. 
 Their journal lasted from 1804 till 1811. This was 
 succeeded in 1812 by the General Hepository ami 
 Review, a bolder magazine, edited by Andrews 
 Norton aided by Buckminster and Edward Everett. 
 The Repository was more decidedly anti-trinitarian. 
 Mr. Norton's "Defence of Liberal Christianity" 
 appeared there. But both of the magazines were 
 too intellectual for the people, and died from lack 
 of support. The confidence of the few would not 
 make a substitute for the purses of the many. The 
 motto, " Nee temere nee timide," was a good one, 
 and it was acted up to, but it failed to catch the 
 popular imagination. 
 
 The Christian Disciple was the next effort. Its 
 aim was to speak the truth in love, but at first, under 
 the conduct of Noah Worcester, later known as the 
 " Friend of Peace," there was so much love in it that 
 the edge of the sword of truth was not felt. It 
 began in 1813. In 1819, under another editor, it 
 became more aggressive ; still it was not fierce enough 
 for the demand after 1823, and the Examiner fol- 
 lowed in 1824, working on similar lines with the 
 Disciple, and preserving the same spirit of charity, 
 but laying sharper emphasis on theological ideas. 
 The revolt against orthodoxy had been in a great 
 measure anonymous, and the defiance of a few up to 
 the " Controversy " which may be said to have begun 
 with Dr. Channing's sermon at Baltimore in 1819. 
 The Disciple had barely recognized the change that 
 
208 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 was going on in the current belief, and had not 
 breathed the word " Unitarianism." Henceforth a 
 new faith was to be assumed. The Disciple had, on 
 the whole, been less pugnacious than the Repository, 
 and the Anthology, while it dealt some heavy blows, 
 was careful not to commit individuals to " liberal " 
 opinions. It would not be easy, perhaps it would be 
 impossible, to trace the gradual opening of more ex- 
 tended views in philosophy and religion through the 
 pages of the Examiner, so much depends on the 
 genius or state of the mind of editors, and on the 
 questions that arise as years go on ; but it is certain 
 that thoughts were enlarged as the numbers multi- 
 plied. The Cliristian Examiner illustrated the new 
 Unitarian mind from 1824 till 1869; and, as we 
 know, that mind was continually expanding. Then 
 it died, and Old and New, the very name of which 
 indicates a fresh departure towards inclusiveness, 
 took its place. This also came to an end in 1872, 
 being superseded by secular magazines. 
 
 In 1829 an effort was made to reanimate the 
 Examiner. As a change was deemed expedient, a 
 meeting was held at the house of Dr. Channing ; a 
 new society was formed, and other arrangements for 
 publication entered upon. It was agreed that ^' the 
 general views of religion presented in the work shall 
 correspond to those which have hitherto appeared in 
 the Christian Examiner. It shall be a main object 
 of the publication, in treating any book or subject 
 which has a bearing on religion or morals, to present 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIENDSHIP. 209 
 
 those considerations respecting it, whicli would sug- 
 gest themselves to the mind of an enlightened Chris- 
 tian. The work shall be characterized by openness, 
 fearlessness, and moderation in the expression of 
 opinion on any topic of public interest, not flattering 
 popular prejudices nor accommodating itself to them." 
 That is to say, that the Examiner was to be a pro- 
 nounced vehicle of liberal Christianity ; and the 
 declaration that it was to " contain an account of the 
 most important and interesting new publications, and 
 thus give a general view of the progress of literature 
 and the popular sciences and of new discoveries of 
 general interest," proves an intention to interpret this 
 liberality generously, in accordance with the laws of 
 reason. It has been faithful to this resolution. 
 Theodore Parker, in 1839, wrote in his journal: 
 "I have just finished a review of Strauss for the 
 Examiiner. I could not say all I would say from the 
 standpoint of the Examiner — for this is not allow- 
 able, — but the most the readers of that paper will 
 bear." But Mr. Parker's article was accepted, as of 
 course it would be, if it was simply an account of 
 Strauss' position ; there was no reason in that why it 
 should not appear in the Examiner. 
 
 The society first assumed a regular form on Jan- 
 uary 27, 1829, by choosing its officers. Andrews 
 Norton was chosen President ; F. W. P. Greenwood, 
 Secretary; Nathan Hale, Treasurer. The Publica- 
 tion Committee consisted of James Walker, John G. 
 Palfrey, and F. W. P. Greenwood. Among the sub- 
 
 14 
 
2IO BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 jects mentioned as suitable for treatment, illustrating 
 the wide scope of discussion, were " Lyceums," " Our 
 National Union," "Dugald Stewart," "Books in 
 Modern Greek," "Lectures at the London Univer- 
 sity," "The Tariff," "Railroads," "Duties of the 
 Medical Profession to Society," "Lotteries," "Poor 
 Debtors," " Theatres," " American Literature." In 
 1830 it was decided by general opinion that Mr. 
 Jefferson's political principles and character were 
 not properly subject to discussion in such a work. 
 F. W. P. Greenwood and James Walker became 
 editors in 1831. Mr. Walker resigned as editor at 
 the close of 1836. In 1839 William Ware was ap- 
 pointed editor. Alvan Lamson and E. S. Gannett 
 succeeded him in 1843. George Putnam and George 
 E. Ellis assumed the charge in 1849. In 1857, on 
 the resignation of Mr. Ellis, the editorship was 
 transferred to F. H. Hedge, and Edward E. Hale 
 was associated with him. Mr. Hale resigned in 1861. 
 In 1863 the society was dissolved by its own vote. 
 
 But the Examiner did not die. There was an 
 enthusiasm for it that encouraged its friends in spite 
 of financial difficulty. The property, such as it was, 
 at once was made over to Rev. Thomas B, Fox, and 
 he, with Rev. Joseph H. Allen, an indefatigable and 
 laborious man, carried it on for several years, until 
 it finally went to New York, fell into Henry W. 
 Bellows' hands, and died. Mr. Allen conducted the 
 review with a vigor and force that should have en- 
 sured success, if moral or intellectual qualities alone 
 
THE FREEDOM OF FRIEXDSUIF. 2 1 1 
 
 could, and after its cessation its friends, as if un- 
 willing to yield to circumstances, started Old and 
 JSfeio, in the hope that, under another name and 
 with more secular attractions, it might renew its 
 career. But notwithstanding Edward E. Hale's 
 prodigious efforts and singular genius, the competi- 
 tion of other magazines was too much for it, and 
 this, too, had a short existence of a few years only. 
 The loss of such a Journal as the Examinei^ so able, 
 so independent, so dispassionate, so unpartisan, so 
 high-spirited, so consecrated to lofty ideas, was, as 
 has been said, sorely regretted. True, it was always 
 "Christian," but with such a large and generous 
 interpretation that none save aggressive minds could 
 feel the limitation. The best essays of W. E. Chan- 
 ning, James Walker, F. W. P. Greenwood, Orville 
 Dewey, Andrews Norton, appeared there ; the keen- 
 est criticism of books and opinions, the most 
 thoughtful consideration of social problems. The 
 entire series is a treasury of enlightened discussion, 
 in which every subject that concerned men twenty 
 years and more ago was seriously dealt with. 
 
 The literary influence of the Examiner was veiy 
 great, although impalpable, as the atmosphere is. 
 Its editors were scholars as well as thinkers ; men of 
 letters as well as divines, being familiar with the 
 choicest writing, and insisting on a rational presen- 
 tation of ideas, the intellectual laws and not dog- 
 matic prejudices being respected. One cannot think 
 without grateful admiration of the leaders in this 
 
212 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 enterprise, the earnest, convinced men, who gave 
 time and strength to a reasonable revision of their 
 religion. Names that are illustrious lent their radi- 
 ance to those pages. Names that are unknown are 
 embalmed there. When Mr. Allen took it, — his 
 connection began in 1857, under Dr. Hedge, and 
 gradually assumed more responsible proportions, till 
 in 1863 he became sole editor and joint proprietor, 
 continuing managing editor from 1865 till 1870,. 
 when the Examiiner was merged in Old and New, 
 — a younger class of men naturally came to the 
 front, other issues were raised, and the character of 
 the original review was slightly altered. Finally, 
 on the decease of Old and New, there existed no 
 organ of Unitarianism save the (Jliristian Register 
 the wide-known weekly paper which continues its 
 liberalizing work, takes an independent stand, 
 maintaining the broadest rationalism consistent with 
 faith, and does its best to make up for the loss of 
 the larger magazine. 
 
IX. 
 
 THE BOSTON ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL 
 MINISTERS. 
 
 In 1860 Dr. Gannett thus described this conference: 
 
 Thirty-six years ago I met in this ministerial circle Dr. 
 Porter, of Roxbury, wise, calm, sententious, from whose 
 remark in one of our discussions I have tried to draw comfort 
 ever since : " A minister should feel that he does no small 
 amount of good in preventing the evil which would show 
 itself if he were not in his place " ; Dr. Freeman, sensibly 
 feeling the infirmities of age, but with a mind that years had 
 only ripened, and a heart that never grew old ; Dr. Harris, of 
 Dorchester, the faithful pastor and diligent student, sensitive, 
 tender, and devout ; Dr. Pierce, of Brookline, always laden 
 with facts, and always prompt with kind greetings ; Dr. Gray, 
 who never dreaded the truth, but who loved harmony more 
 than controversy ; Dr. Tuckerman, the minister of Chelsea, 
 where he was preparing himself for the work that has 
 spread his name through Christendom ; Dr. Richmond, gentle, 
 urbane, modest ; Dr. Channing, who came to the meetings but 
 seldom, but when present showed his interest in our purposes ; 
 Dr. Lowell, always genial, always faithful, whose affectionate 
 notes from his retirement at Elmwood show an interest which 
 he has never lost in us. Of the men whom I accounted 
 venerable as I looked on their grave faces and matured forms 
 he alone remains. Of those who stood on a lower plane of 
 age, but were regarded with little less of timid respect, onv. 
 
 213 
 
214 BOSTON UNITARIANISiM. 
 
 Still gives us the light of his benignant countenance and the 
 warmth of his cordial sympathy (Dr. Frothingham), though he 
 has chosen to withdraw himself from our professional labors. 
 Parkman was with us, full of terse sayings, and often disturb- 
 ing me by a quotation from Scripture so apt that its pertinency 
 'made its irreverence ; Mr. Pierpont, earnest, ready, eloquent ; 
 Henry Ware, whose place in our hearts is indicated by the 
 constancy with which we spoke of him under his Christian 
 name, and who could always be relied on for co-operation in 
 every measure that aimed at personal or social improvement ; 
 Palfrey, then as industrious in his clerical service, and as 
 upright in his purposes, as he has been laborious and con- 
 sistent ever since ; Greenwood, delicate in health, sweet in 
 temper, spiritual in his tastes, refined in his habits ; Walker, 
 steady in mind, as true as steel, and as fraternal as he was 
 honest, he who is now the candid hearer where he was once 
 the careful preacher ; and others who took a less frequent or 
 less earnest part in our meetings. 
 
 These meetings were held then, as now, twice every 
 month, at our several houses. We were more punctual in our 
 attendance than of late years, and came together, as it seemed 
 to me, rather for friendly conversation than for deliberate dis- 
 cussion. Dr. Lowell and Dr. Pierce were the first to appear ; 
 and more ecclesiastical views and more of the results of our 
 professional experiences were exchanged between us than at 
 present. The older members preferred the agreeable and 
 desultory talk, which was a refreshment after the exercises of 
 Sunday ; while the younger brethren made successive — and 
 successful — attempts to turn the afternoon to a more profitable 
 use. 
 
 The most distinct among the impressions which I retain of 
 the years in which I was one of the younger members of this 
 body relates to the character of our intercourse with one 
 another. It was free, frank, cordial, and healthy to a most 
 remarkable degree. Difference of age, of opinion, of situation, 
 produced no estrangement or coolness. Discussions in which. 
 
ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS. 21$ 
 
 we maintained opposite views caused no heart-burning or un- 
 generous criticism. The playful remark, often bearing a sharp 
 point, or the severe dissent honestly expressed, if it inflicted a 
 momentary pain, only became the occasion of a more hearty 
 confidence. Perhaps distance throws a false light over those 
 days ; but I love to look back on the mutual respect and bold 
 trust which marked our social relations at that time as almost 
 without parallel among ecclesiastical men. 
 
 This encomium is well deserved. The same cor- 
 diality existed in my day, and was largely due, as it 
 appeared to me, to the social character of the gather- 
 ings, and the personal relation that existed among 
 the gentlemen. They were not professional assem- 
 blies which put people on their guard, and gave an 
 official tone to the words spoken. The temper of 
 the individual men alone came out, and this could 
 easily be allowed for. In fact differences did but lay 
 emphasis on individuality, thus rendering the meet- 
 ings interesting. There could not well be debate, in 
 other than friendly fashion. The custom of present- 
 ing some subject by the chairman ensured j)ertinency 
 and gravity, while the rule of calling on each one 
 present for an expression of mind guaranteed a com- 
 plete exhibition of view. The subject was always 
 one of general concern, not sectarian usually, and 
 the talk was unembarrassed, friendly, and fearless. 
 The meeting was in private parlors. The hour be- 
 fore tea was spent in pleasant chat ; the hour after 
 tea was devoted to the serious concerns of the even- 
 ing, or the other way. At all events part of the 
 time was set apart for personal conversation. Under 
 
f 
 
 216 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 such an arrangement much will depend on the dis- 
 j)Osition, or habit of thought, or interest, of him 
 who conducted the meeting. If that was close and 
 logical the spirit of the proceedings would show it. 
 If these were discursive or vague, the tendency- 
 would be exhibited. For example, Dr. Grannett 
 wanted sharp definition ; Dr. Frothingham, on the 
 other hand, was better pleased by inclusive state- 
 ments. The inclination of the former may be illus- 
 trated by the following incident. It was customary 
 for the entertainer to open the meeting with prayer. 
 Dr. Gannett's petition was long and comprehensive, 
 including the members, their churches, the sick and 
 bereaved, the outside world, the heathen and all who 
 came within the range of the gospel. Dr. Bartol 
 followed him. With upturned face and open eyes 
 and hands outstretched to heaven, he simply said : 
 " O Lord, we are here ; " as much as to say, " we are 
 waiting for a blessing." The old and the new could 
 hardly be more sharply contrasted. As regards my 
 father, I find this entry in Dr. Gannett's diary, 
 which I take from Wm. C. Gannett's admirable 
 biography of his father. 
 
 Ministers' Association meeting at Rev. Dr. Nath. Froth- 
 ingham's. Large meeting — thirty there, — several not of the 
 Association. Subject of discussion, " Our Differences." Dr. 
 Frothingham said we were all Rationalists, all Naturalists, all 
 Supernaturalists ; defining these terms in his own way, and 
 having acknowleged and spoken of a centre and two wings in 
 our body. 
 
ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS. 21/ 
 
 It may be safely assumed that Dr. Frothingliam's 
 " definitions " were, in tlie eyes of a strict logician, no 
 definitions at all. He was not one wlio looked at 
 things through the medium of logic ; he was rather 
 disposed to reconcile divergences than to create them ; 
 to take large interpretations ; to regard systems of 
 opinion through sentiment and the constructive rea- 
 son ; to study the things that made for peace. There 
 was this difference of temperament, and the charm of 
 the Association was the free play of this difference. 
 The men made the friendliest observation of one 
 another. There was no official responsibility for 
 opinion, and the personality could come out without 
 reserve. It was very different from a public demon- 
 stration, where men represented, not themselves 
 alone, but their social position, or their ecclesiasti- 
 cal situation. Here they could let themselves out 
 with no danger of being misrepresented or com- 
 promised. Hence its popularity with those whose 
 minds were full of ideas that could not be publicly 
 communicated. As the meetings always were held 
 on Monday, when ministers usually felt exhausted 
 from the services of the previous day, the members, 
 more or less dulled, preferred, in the main, light and 
 easy conversation ; and, as the intervals between the 
 meetings were mostly, sometimes entirely, spent in 
 parish duties, the talk turned naturally on parochial 
 affairs. But the topics of discussion were varied, and 
 the talk had a wide range. The conferences were 
 often brilliant, and when men who read a great deal, 
 
2l8 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 thought much, and had a gift of speech, took a lead- 
 ing part, the listening was very agreeable ; for many 
 of the clergymen possessed wit and knowledge and 
 fine perception. On occasions of excitement, as 
 during the Parker controversy, which implicated 
 both theological and personal questions, the words 
 flew thick and fast from nearly all lips. Then the 
 most silent had something to say about the duties of 
 the profession. The Parker episode, in January, 1 843, 
 was disagreeable, for personal feeling was as much 
 enlisted as dogmatical dissent. As the chairman. 
 Dr. Frothingham, said, this was an " association of 
 brethren," a fellowship, and that made the situation 
 the more difficult. Had it been simply a theological 
 club, the matters in dispute might have been easily 
 disposed of. Even stiff conservatives, like Chandler 
 Robbins, were touched, and extended a friendly hand 
 to the heresiarch ; and many a man who disagreed 
 with Mr. Parker in doctrine, yet who loved him as a 
 man, wished him to remain in the fraternity. The 
 mixture of tenets with affection was, in the main,, 
 answerable for the dilemma. Fortunately such con- 
 fusion was rare. The intercourse was of the heart, 
 and disputation was foreign to the purpose of the 
 conference, a circumstance that should be borne in 
 mind by those who w^ould understand the proceed- 
 ings on the occasion in question. Action was forced 
 upon the body, and action quite inconsistent with it& 
 original constitution. 'Hence the apparent severity 
 of some, and the seeming generosity of others whose 
 
ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS. 219 
 
 real opinions were covered up beneath personal 
 kindness. 
 
 The institution was old as we estimate age. Dr. 
 John Pierce, who was an authority on dates, men- 
 tioned Rev. Simeon Howard, D.D., as finishing a 
 seventeen years' term as Moderator, in 1804. Dr. 
 Pierce was himself " approbated " by the Association 
 to preach, on February 22, 1796. The Association 
 may be supposed to have been of English origin, 
 as the Thursday Lecture was. It is said to have 
 come from Bodmin, in Cornwall, and to have been in- 
 troduced into this country by Kev. Charles Morton, 
 who was a member of it both in the old home and 
 the new, the only man of whom this can be affirmed ; 
 but it must have been much older, as it was objected 
 to by Roger AVilliams on the ground of its restrictive 
 tendencies. Mr. Morton was a graduate of Oxford, 
 and rector of Blissland, in Cornwall. Being ejected 
 thence on account of his Independency, he taught 
 classes till 1686, — Daniel De Foe being one of his 
 pupils, — when he came to New England, eminent for 
 learning and piety, as is evidenced by the report that 
 he was invited to assume the presidency of Harvard 
 College, which, it is said, was made up for by a pul- 
 pit in Charlestown, 
 
 The earliest record in England is 1655. The ear- 
 liest here is at Charlestown, in 1690, October 13th. 
 The last date in Endand is 1659. The observance 
 was often interrupted, or the record has been lost. 
 Certainly the record has been lost, and it is fair tn 
 
220 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 presume that, in those stormy days, the meetings 
 were irre2:ular. It was natural that the outcasts 
 should flock together for mutual support, enlighten- 
 ment, and counsel, and that the exiles should con- 
 tinue in the new country?- a fellowship which they 
 had formed in the old. They must hold to one an- 
 other, for they were defenceless. The Association was 
 formed " for promoting the Gospel and our mutual 
 assistance and furtherance in that great work." It 
 was a kind of clerical club intended to encouraare the 
 ministers and foster a fraternal feelino", and there 
 was therefore a mingling in it of professional serious- 
 ness and personal warmth. The meetings were held 
 at first once in a month, in Charlestown every six 
 weeks ; and always on Monday, at such hour as was 
 most convenient, sometimes at nine o'clock in the 
 forenoon. The scanty English records mention 
 the examination and confirmation and ordination of 
 candidates for the ministry as among the duties of 
 the body, an important office in England, where the 
 Puritans were jealously watched, and in America 
 where they were few, and had to be careful lest wolves 
 got into the sheepfold. A scribe was necessary to 
 keep the records and a Moderator to preside at the 
 meetings. The latter was chosen every time for the 
 next assemblage, and one of his duties was to pro- 
 pose a subject for discussion. Forty or fifty ques- 
 tions were submitted in course of time, mostly 
 relating to ecclesiastical and pastoral aifairs, of course, 
 but often social and ethical. This is a specimen : 
 
ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS. 221 
 
 " Whether an examination by the members is incum- 
 bent on those who wish to partake of the Lord's 
 Supper " ; " The marriage of cousins-german." The 
 subjects were such as interested the members, and 
 changed according to the exigency of the place and 
 period, — now the speculative, now the moral predom- 
 inating. Whatever the theme announced, the aim 
 was practical. On several occasions a committee was 
 appointed to present a list of questions. At one 
 time a paper was read by some gentleman, of his 
 own choice, and made the ground for discussion or 
 conversation. Then, for a season, there was no for- 
 mal topic. To strengthen the bond of union and 
 render the meetings profitable was the end kept 
 steadily in view. Several lists of questions are given 
 in the record. It is not worth while to copy them, 
 as they reflect simply the spirit prevailing at the 
 period of their preparation, and if any were given 
 all should be. It is enough to note here that the 
 men were wide-awake — no fossils, no fogies, no 
 priests. The following titles prove that : " Spiritu- 
 alism," " Buddhism," " Social Meetings," " The Broad 
 Church," " Prayers of Episcopacy," " Progress of 
 Romanism," " The Advantages of Episcopacy," " Sci- 
 ence and Faith," " Intemperance," " The Politico- 
 Moral Aspect of the John Brown Tragedy," " The 
 Abuses of Fast-Day," " The Sunday-School," " The 
 Afternoon Service," " The War," " Slavery," " The 
 Higher Law," " Individualism," " The Demand of 
 the Times on us" (1862), "The Esthetic Element 
 
222 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 in Worship," '^ Do we Need a New Cultus ? " " Uni- 
 versity Education," " Tlie Vices to which Ministers 
 are Exposed," " Divorce," " The Ideal Church." 
 
 The meetings were in the afternoons at various 
 hours — 3 : 30, 4, 5, 5 : 30, as seemed expedient. Some- 
 times the business was all done before tea ; sometimes 
 the more serious part was introduced later. The 
 exercises were always opened with prayer. In my 
 youth the evenings were devoted to essay or discus- 
 sion ; at present the evening is free, and the whole 
 business is finished between four and six o'clock. 
 The oldest member is chosen Moderator, and he 
 serves as long as he will. In regard to licensing 
 ministers, it was unanimously voted, in 1854: 1. 
 That this Association annuls any former vote or 
 usage by which it may have recognized simple cer- 
 tificates of theological study or church membership 
 as sufficient conditions for admission to our pulpits 
 and for our participation in the ordination of candi- 
 dates for the ministry. 2. That, to guide the future 
 action of this Association in admitting: candidates to 
 the ministry, we require a testimonial from a mem- 
 ber, or a brother minister introducing each candidate, 
 and such an examination as may satisfy the brethren 
 of his Christian belief and feelings for the ministry. 
 3. That, in thus returning to its former practice, 
 this Association requires each candidate to j)resent 
 his testimonials at a meeting preceding that at which 
 they are to be acted on, and also to prepare a dis- 
 course on some subject assigned at a previous meet- 
 
ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS. 223 
 
 ing. 4. That, in conducting an examination of a 
 candidate for the ministry, we shall consider it indis- 
 pensable that the candidate express unequivocally 
 his belief in the supernatural origin and character 
 of Christianity. And the scribe was, by vote, in- 
 structed to communicate the foregoing resolutions to 
 the ministerial associations enumerated in the Uni- 
 tarian Congregational Register, and to the professors 
 of our theological school. 
 
 The boundaries of the Association were at first 
 restricted to Boston and its immediate vicinity ; min- 
 isters of Chelsea and Brainti'ee, who wished to come 
 in, being courteously reminded that they lived be- 
 yond the precincts. The provision was necessary, as 
 the towns multiplied and enlarged room had to be 
 economized. It was a simple matter of space. There 
 were twenty-seven members in 1847, and they were 
 never all present at the same time. But they might 
 be. The attendance was very uncertain. Much de- 
 pended on the weather, or other engagements or 
 attractions, and on the interest excited in the subject 
 to be considered. Now and then the assemblage 
 was too small for any discussion. Then again the 
 parlor would be full. But the feeling of fellowship 
 was warm and eager. 
 
 Rev. Thomas Gray, of Jamaica Plain, for many 
 years Moderator of the Association, and the first can- 
 didate who was examined and approved by vote, as 
 appears in the record, March 12, 1792, died on June 
 1, 1847, aged seventy-five years. He is spoken of as 
 
224 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 " of a gentle and kindly spirit. Those who were not 
 his admirers, were his friends. He had no enemies." 
 
 The venerable Dr. John Pierce died in October, 
 1849, seventy-six years old and a little more. He 
 ^vas a member of the Association for upwards of 
 half a century, its Moderator for six years, and sel- 
 dom absent from the meetings. He was known for 
 his many Christian virtues, was an ardent and active 
 friend of temperance, and a sincerely humble, devout 
 man. His sick chamber was a sacred and joyous 
 spot which it was a privilege to visit. One hundred 
 and twenty clergymen, representing seven different 
 denominations, came there, and had their trust and 
 hope confirmed. From his chamber he sent a greet- 
 ing to his brethren of the Association, which re- 
 sponded through a special committee consisting of 
 Francis Parkman, Ezra S. Gannett, and Samuel K. 
 Lothrop. They said most truly : " To the satisfac- 
 tions of such an union, you, dear Sir, have ever eagerly 
 contributed. By the frankness and cordiality of in- 
 tercourse, alike with the elder and the younger, by 
 your hearty ' love of the brethren,' by your knowl- 
 edge and faithful memory preserving for us the his- 
 tory of the past and the recorded wisdom of the 
 fathers, you have been to us at once a counsellor and 
 a brother." 
 
 When it came Dr. Parkman's turn to die (on No- 
 vember 1 2, 1 852), he was celebrated as " one who loved 
 his calling and discharged all its duties with untiring 
 devotedness. As a preacher he was practical and 
 
ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS. 22 5 
 
 evangelical. As a pastor tender and affectionate. 
 He was a man of active and useful charities, a friend 
 to learning, a punctual member or energetic officer 
 of many literary, philanthropic, and religious associa- 
 tions, as well as a true friend of the worthy poor. 
 He ' loved the brethren.' He was ' given to hospital- 
 ity' — distributing to the necessities of saints." 
 
 Dr. Young was characterized as " to his congrega- 
 tion, an eloquent, sound and acceptable preacher, and 
 a friendly pastor. And his brethren in the ministry 
 will long deplore his removal from the midst of 
 them." 
 
 A tribute was paid to Frederick T. Gray, the devot- 
 ed minister, whose zeal and success were so conspicu- 
 ous in developing the religious nature of the young, 
 and among the poor, and who was distinguished as an 
 inculcator of the plain, moral lessons of the New 
 Testament. In the intervals of his last suffering he 
 sent messages of affection to his friends, mentioning 
 the " brethren " in the same breath with the " poor," 
 and with " children." 
 
 The following affectionate mention of Rev. Dr. 
 Samuel Barrett is copied from the record of June, 
 1866: "His kindly presence, his true spirit of Chris- 
 tian fellowship, his benign interest in all that is good, 
 will be missed by the brethren with whom he rarely 
 failed to meet until the disabilities of sickness were 
 laid upon him." 
 
 On the decease of Dr. Frothingham — April 4, 1870 
 
 — the Association rendered a meed of praise. Its 
 15 
 
226 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 scribe was instructed to write a letter to the faraily, 
 from which the following is an extract : " His breth- 
 ren remember with pride the distinction with which 
 he illustrated his sacred calling; but they cherish 
 with joy the memory of the playful wit, the gener- 
 ous communication, the high example of scholarly 
 attainment, the spiritual ideal, by which he enriched 
 our meetings, and added a peculiar grace to our fel- 
 lowship ; and they are still cheered by the encourage- 
 ment of his ministerial fidelity, the inspiration of his 
 rare culture, the sweetness and sunshine of his 
 faith." 
 
 This was the circle in which the genius of Dr. 
 Frothingham shone. He delighted in the freedom, 
 the respect for individual opinion, the sympathy in 
 religious feeling. Its intercourse refreshed and 
 aroused him ; offered room for his mind, and space 
 for the movement of his affections. His best things 
 were said there, in the suddenness of immediate sug- 
 gestion. But that nothing spoken in conversation 
 was allowed to go upon the records, words of pene- 
 trating wisdom and acute criticism might be quoted. 
 As it is, they must remain in the memory of those 
 who heard them. 
 
 As originally constituted, the Association was, of 
 necessity, Calvinistic. But disintegration began 
 early. Theology became softened by rapid degrees. 
 Even before the Revolution, schism set in. The 
 writings of Thomas Paine were widely read, and 
 new thoughts were suggested. The leaven of seep- 
 
ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS. 22/ 
 
 ticism worked in higli places. One by one men 
 became dissatisfied witli the prevailing tenets, and 
 lost interest in the ancient connections. Arminianism 
 crept in ; Anti-trinitarianism was not uncommon ; 
 Universalism was diffused among the people. The 
 ease with which King's Chapel was carried over from 
 Episcopalianism to Unitarianism showed the popular 
 tendency. The rights of reason and conscience were 
 powerfully presented. The natural instincts of the 
 heart cried loudly for recognition. So that, long 
 before the final controversy, the cleavage was mani- 
 fest. In my father's day Unitarianism was mixed 
 with Orthodoxy, as it is even yet in some degree. 
 But at recent meetings of the Association I have 
 heard sentiments advanced that would not have been 
 listened to half a century or even twenty-five years 
 ago. By its liberality of expression the Boston 
 Association became a nursery of liberal thinking. 
 The heart has led the understanding. 
 
X. 
 
 THE E]ST). 
 
 My motlier died in the summer of 1864. It was 
 on the night of July 4th. She had seemed as well 
 as usual, had sat on the piazza of her country house 
 at Burlington, Massachusetts, and watched the sun- 
 set ; then she went trustingly to bed, and never woke 
 again. Her disease was consumption. She went to 
 Europe, for the first time, in the spring of 1860, spent 
 eighteen months abroad in perfect enjoyment, doing 
 laborious things — ascending Vesuvius, for instance, 
 — and came home in the autumn of 1861. A cold 
 taken in the early winter settled on the lungs ; a 
 winter in Madeira, in 1862-3, did not effect a cure; 
 the malady deepened, and proved fatal a little more 
 than a year after her return. She was, in some 
 I'espects, a remarkable woman, illustrating the old 
 saying that extremes meet. She was a wonder of 
 practical goodness, a marvel of kindly common- 
 sense ; simple in her tastes, plain in her habits, 
 serious in her views of life, devoted to the custom- 
 ary daily duties of existence, gentle, patient, kind as 
 the kindest to those who needed kindness most ; 
 
 22S 
 
THE END. 229 
 
 a motlier who would give lier life to her children ; a 
 wife who was all in all to her husband. Her crown- 
 ing grace was affection ; her distinguishing virtue 
 was humility, which was unaffected. She was an 
 enemy to all untruthfulness and all sentimentality. 
 She needed no apostolic assurance to be convinced 
 that " no man should think of himself more highly 
 than he ought to think. . . If a man think himself 
 to be something when he is nothing, he deceiveth 
 himself." She had no doubt of it, and to her it 
 seemed that the number of such self-deceived people 
 Avas very large. She abhorred pretence so heartily that 
 she was inclined to suspect it where it did not actually 
 exist, and the inconsiderate might sometimes accuse 
 her of not doing full justice to the sincerity which 
 an appearance of vanity concealed from sight, not 
 being metaphysician enough to distinguish between 
 faults of physical organization and faults of moral 
 character. 
 
 Connected with her humility in the sight of 
 heaven was independence of the opinions of people 
 and a singular frankness in expressing it. Her 
 courage was unflinching. She shrank from nothing. 
 No pain daunted her, no suffering. Not that she 
 was insensible to agony ; on the contrary, she felt it 
 keenly ; but when she was convinced that the inev- 
 itable must be borne, she submitted mthout a mur- 
 mur or a remonstrance ; she even insisted on the 
 performance of whatever was necessary, enduring 
 sharp torture, if retpiired, rather than avoid what 
 
230 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 was repugnant to lier judgment. She was no philos- 
 opher of any description or degree, but an honest, 
 unsophisticated woman who took no merit to her- 
 self for what she did or was, and who, mindful of 
 her own shortcomings, was not too ready to glorify 
 the merits of others. To literary knowledge or 
 Judgment she made no claim; appreciating accom- 
 plishments in others, she possessed none of any kind. 
 She was not " a woman of soul," nor any lover of 
 such, though her habit of speaking no ill of her 
 neighbor prevented her from wronging those she did 
 not understand. She lived happily, and more than 
 contented in her own world, accepting without 
 question the place which divine Providence had 
 assigned to her, satisfied that others should have their 
 places. Her faith was that of a child in the institu- 
 tions she was born under. If she had misgivings, 
 she modestly kept them to herself. An optimist she 
 was not ; as little was she a pessimist. She had not 
 the presumption to be either, probably she did not 
 know what those cabalistical words meant. She was 
 a true-hearted woman, who took things as they were 
 without useless speculation or protest, and did what 
 she could to make the world about her what it 
 should be, by being a charitable friend to the poor, a 
 hel]3er to the weak, a consoler to the afflicted, a 
 merciful judge to the erring. She was intelligent 
 rather than intellectual, a fit companion for a man of 
 interior habits, whose daily commerce was with the 
 objects of an ideal sphere. 
 
THE END. 231 
 
 Her practical judgment, wliicli was extraordinary, 
 balanced his speculative insight ; her single-minded, 
 straightforward vision, disregarding incidental con- 
 siderations of policy or comfort, but penetrating to 
 the heart of the subject, was happily contrasted with 
 a mental allsidedness which disqualified him for 
 going at once to the central point in question ; her 
 brave acceptance of results eked out the timidity 
 which shrank from occupying an exposed position ; 
 her solid weight of character held to the ground one 
 whose tendency was to float too much in the air. 
 She was a very strong woman, in her way, and had 
 her lot fallen in the present generation, which 
 attaches so much importance to the full develop, 
 ment of feminine genius, she might have been as 
 remarkable for mental as for moral quality. Though 
 serenely happy, she was seldom gay ; her moods were 
 even. If she did not soar, she did not sink, and was 
 the better able to meet the disappointments that 
 crush volatile natures. When expectation flies low, 
 the bolt of calamity causes no fatal fall. In enthusi- 
 astic days such a disposition appears sober and quiet, 
 but in times of discomfiture it is a consoler and 
 fortifier. She was, indeed, a helper and a caretaker. 
 If she did not accompany her husband in his excur- 
 sions to the high table-lands of literature, she sur- 
 rounded his life with domestic influences that made 
 him happy. Her active qualities were so strong, so 
 sure, so steadfast and constant, that while she was all 
 herself, those qualities that she was deficient in were 
 
232 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 not missed. It may be that her limitations, like the 
 glass circlet which steadies the flame of the lamp, 
 made her real power intense and luminous. 
 
 As I look back through the mist of years and re- 
 call these dear forms, freed from the trammels of 
 earth and transfigured by memory, a feeling of shame 
 comes over me that I did not better appreciate them 
 when living ; a feeling of gratitude for all their de- 
 votion in the time of my youth. My best gifts I 
 trace to them, both of mind and character. To my 
 father I owe what I may have of idealism, of imagina- 
 tiveness, of fondness for literature, of fastidiousness 
 in regard to persons and books, my conservatism of 
 sentiment, my freedom of intellectual movement ;. 
 only the wave goes up the shore farther than it 
 did a generation ago, and I have spoken in public 
 what he meditated in his study, carrying out what 
 he adumbrated. To my mother is due a simplicity 
 of purpose, a directness of aim, an outspokenness of 
 conviction, a frankness aud fearlessness of utterance 
 that, when fully developed, seemed to her rash if 
 not supercilious. So easily is malleable iron changed 
 into steel, and the ploughshare turned into a sword 1 
 Her loss was a heavy blow to him ; not a sorrow 
 merely, but a severe nervous and constitutional shock 
 that affected even his physical nature, impairing his 
 power of resistance. It was like taking away the 
 prop he leaned on for daily support. He was weak- 
 er and more helpless. The year after her death he 
 underwent an operation on his eyes. This was un- 
 
THE END. 235 
 
 successful, and resulted iu the extinguishment of the 
 little light he had. He became totally blind, so that 
 he could not distinguish light from darkness. The 
 disease was of the nature of glaucoma, and was in- 
 curable. In-doors he was dependent on a reader, the 
 daughter of his old friend Joseph T. Buckingham, 
 a lady to whom in her youth he had been very kind, 
 who was fond of books, conversant with ideas, and 
 devoted to him, glad to serve him in his library and 
 to read to him whatever he desired — articles in re- 
 views, essays, novels, poems, stories. She was in- 
 valuable to him. Eyes was she to the blind, and 
 feet was she to the lame in the house. Out of the 
 house his son walked with him, guiding his steps 
 through the thoroughfares of the city, and describ- 
 ing the monuments as they passed. I remember 
 standing with him before the statue of Hamilton, 
 then just erected in Commonwealth Avenue, and 
 trying to bring it before his mind. And I remember 
 one day in our walk telling him of a lady I had met 
 who reminded me of mother. Hereupon he went 
 into rapturous reminiscences, as if his past was ever 
 present with him. And I remember how on his last 
 bed, sitting by his side and wishing to say a comfort- 
 ing word, I spoke of the blessed people who were 
 waiting on the other side to welcome him, and at the 
 mention of his wife his face lighted up, the tears 
 rolled down his cheek, and the consciousness of im- 
 mediate distress was lost in the blissful prospect of 
 joining her who had gone before. He was delighted 
 
234 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 to see his friends, entertaining tliem as of old with 
 his Avit, never dwelling on his disabilities, never com- 
 plaining or repining, and making them happier than 
 they were before. If there was occasion to speak 
 of himself it was in a frank spirit, dutiful, trusting, 
 and cheerful, " I shall try to behave," he said, and 
 endeavor was required for that. His hours of weak- 
 ness were few, his hours of distrust none. When 
 heavier reading became unwelcome he fell back on 
 lighter, and when this became unacceptable, the 
 translation of German hymns was a resource. These 
 were printed afterwards in the second series of the 
 " Metrical Pieces." The solemn pathos, the fervent 
 aspiration, the tender, filial spirit touched his senti- 
 ment, while the poetic form charmed his love of 
 melody. I can see him now, sitting in his arm-chair, 
 committing to memory the lines as they were read, 
 turning them over in his mind and reproducing them 
 in English, in the same metre as the original, always 
 preserving the tone and, as nearly as possible, the 
 expressions of his model. So full, active, precise 
 was his mind ! So intellectual were his tastes ! So 
 devout were his feelings ! Thus it continued as long 
 as any mental eifort was possible, then he took to 
 his bed, where he did not linger long ere death 
 brought release. 
 
 At his funeral, his friend Dr. Hedge, among other 
 things, said this : 
 
 As a preacher, he could hardly be said to be popular. Ex- 
 ■cessive refinement, want of rapport with the common mind, 
 
THE END. 235 
 
 precluded those homely applications of practical truth which 
 take the multitude. Nor did he feel sufficient interest in 
 doctrinal theology to satisfy those who craved systematic in- 
 struction in that line. His reputation, therefore, was less ex- 
 tended than intense. The circle of his admirers was small ; 
 but those who composed it listened to him with enthusiastic 
 delight. When, occasionally, he preached to us students at the 
 University, from the pulpit of the College Chapel, there was 
 ■no one, I think, to whom we listened with attention more pro- 
 found ; and, for myself, I can say with richer intellectual 
 profit. The poetic beauty of his thought, the pointed aptness 
 of his illustrations, the truth and sweetness of the sentiment, 
 the singular and sometimes quaint selectness, with nothing 
 inflated or declamatory in it, of the language, won my heart, 
 and made him my favorite among the preachers of that day. 
 I will not mispraise him when dead, whom living I could not 
 flatter. I am well aware, and was even then aware, that the 
 preaching of our friend did not satisfy the class of minds to 
 which Channing in his way, and Walker and Ware and Lowell, 
 so ably ministered in theirs ; but preaching has other legiti- 
 mate and important functions beside those of unfolding the 
 philosophy of religion, or stimulating the moral sense. There 
 are "differences of gifts," and there are "diversities of opera- 
 tions " ; but the same spirit goes with all earnest effort in the 
 service of truth, and is justified in all. 
 
 One service Dr. Frothingham has rendered to the Church 
 and the cause of religion, in which he is unsurpassed by any 
 preacher of his connection, — perhaps, I may say, by any 
 American preacher of his time. I speak of his hymns, which 
 will live, I believe, — I am sure they deserve to live, — as long 
 as any hymns in our collections. His musical tact, his in- 
 timate knowledge of the exigencies of vocalism, combining 
 with his poetic faculty, have added, in those hymns of his, to 
 devout aspiration and pure religious sentiment the perfection 
 of melody. 
 
236 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 An exquisite finish, a polished elegance of thought and 
 phrase, distinguished his performances, even the most trifling,, 
 and made them a study of good taste and good speech. In 
 familiar discourse, when most at his ease, the unstudied and 
 innate grace of his mind gave a peculiar and emphatic zest to 
 his conversation. Nothing awkward ever fell from his lips. 
 His words expressed with unerring fitness the thing most fit to 
 be expressed. . . 
 
 We love to remember, and shall long remember, the charm 
 of his discourse, his wide culture, the sparkle of his wit, the 
 flowers of rhetoric and song with which he adorned his path and 
 gladdened ours. . . . 
 
 This was a man beloved of many, and most worthy to be 
 loved, for his own sake, and the beautiful and endearing quali- 
 ties which nearer acquaintance revealed in him. But love, it 
 is said, is partial ; it has no authorized voice in the court which 
 tries character, either as witness or as judge. Love partial ^ 
 I think not. Love can be critical ; it is naturally so from its 
 very concern for the good of its object. We see very clearly 
 the faults of those we love, and we love them none the less on 
 account of those faults. But then there are faults, and those 
 of the worst kind, which preclude love ; which alienate friend- 
 ship, repel affection. Inordinate selfishness, vanity, falsity, 
 malignity, arrogance, baseness of every sort, — these are quali- 
 ties which no man can love. These are qualities no friendship 
 can abide, which none can possess and continue to be loved. 
 The fact, then, that he of whom I speak was so endeared to 
 a large circle of attached friends, independently of all ties of 
 kindred and blood, — friends whose friendship strengthened 
 with acquaintance ; who cleaved to him when all charm had 
 vanished from his converse and all brilliancy had gone out of 
 his life, — is a proof of the absence in him of all such qualities 
 as I have named. But to speak positively of that which I 
 found in him, I have to say that our friend, as I judged him, 
 was truthful and sincere ; gentle, generous, and kindly affec- 
 tioned ; humane, free from all arrogance or self-conceit ; that 
 
THE END. 237 
 
 Tiis was the charity that *' envieth not," that " vaunteth not 
 itself," that " is not puffed up," that "thinketh no evil." 
 
 What especially impressed me in my long and close observa- 
 tion of the man, and what I consider to be a decisive test 
 of character, was his prompt and generous recognition of 
 talent, faculty, or merit in others ; particularly in those of his 
 own profession, competitors with him in a common career ; 
 the absence of any thing approaching to jealousy or bitter- 
 ness, when the prize of popularity, denied to him, was freely 
 bestowed on his inferiors. His eye was quick to discern, and 
 his heart was prompt to appreciate, and his tongue to acknowl- 
 edge, what was excellent in every performance, or the promise 
 of excellence yet to come. He welcomed the rising talent of 
 his juniors in office ; he was even willing to believe in it where 
 there was none. I am indebted to him for the best encourage- 
 ment I received in my youth. Meanwhile, he never quarrelled 
 with the want of appreciation of his own deserts ; I think he 
 underrated those deserts in his judgment of himself. He 
 whom I was ready to place first was quite content to take the 
 lower room. 
 
 Very little there was in him of wrath or ill-will, and that 
 little very transient. At a time when the lines of ecclesiastical 
 separation and sectarian exclusion were more distinctly and 
 unrelentingly drawn than now, he could put himself in friendly 
 relations with the ministers of other connections than his own. 
 And if, in times of bitter controversy within the lines of his 
 own denomination, he sometimes misjudged and burned with 
 indignation against those whom he believed to be enemies of 
 truth and religion, — enemies dangerous to social order, — in 
 cooler moments he regretted with sorrow unfeigned every 
 harsh and hasty word or act, and the severing of old bonds, 
 and alienation and strife ; and desired, as he assured me, to 
 forget all differences, to recover past fellowship, and to be 
 at peace with all the world. 
 
 The crowning grace of his life was the brave and invincible 
 patience with which he bore the multiplied infirmities of his 
 declining years. 
 
238 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 There befell him in those years the affliction which is justly 
 reckoned among the greatest of physical calamities — the loss 
 of sight. Loss of sight to a scholar with a well-stored library, 
 the habit of whose life has been to rove among his books, and 
 to turn at any moment to the passage needed for solace or re- 
 freshment ; for the verification of a fact, for the resolution of 
 a doubt ; or help in the perplexity of thought, where the right 
 word at the right moment may roll the burden of hours from 
 the mind ! Loss of sight to a widowed man, bereft of the one 
 companion who best could lend her guiding hand to his dark 
 steps, and best supply the lack of eyes at all times and in 
 every place ! Loss of sight to a sensitive man, accustomed to 
 self-help, and nobly impatient of foreign aid ! Loss of sight 
 to a lover of nature, to whom the green of earth and the blue 
 sky, and sunset and sunrise and the stars, are the heart's daily 
 bread ! Friends, have you ever figured to yourselves what 
 that means, — to be a prisoner with open doors ; a captive to 
 your own impotence, walled in by perpetual darkness ; to 
 know no difference between day and night ; to catch no eye 
 responsive to your own, the light of no smile in the face 
 of your beloved ; to miss forever the glories of earth and 
 sky, the familiar aspects of every-day life, and all the dear 
 consuetudes of vision ? 
 
 It was because Di'. Frotliinghani felt this that he 
 consented to undergo an almost hopeless operation, 
 — hopeless from the length of the disease and the 
 excited condition of his mind. But, as he himself 
 touchingly said : " Truly, the light is sweet, and a 
 pleasant thing it is to behold the sun." 
 
 Rev. T. B. Fox, in the Boston Evening Transcript 
 used the following language : 
 
 Quietly devoted to his professional duties. Dr. Frothingham's 
 life was uneventful ; for it was the life of the student and the 
 man of letters. His learning was various and accurate ; and 
 
THE END. 239 
 
 he was honored for his acquirements, as well as for the high 
 order of his intellectual gifts. In social converse he was the 
 coveted teacher and companion of our best thinkers and 
 scholars. His interest and delight in literary pursuits con- 
 tinued unabated when others, suffering from infirmities and 
 pains like his, would have abandoned their books and pens, 
 and felt that even to listen to reading was a luxury to be given 
 up. Whilst sickness allowed him to work, he was never idle. 
 
 Dr. Frothingham published several volumes of prose and 
 poetry ; and to the Christian Examiner, the North American 
 Review^ and several other periodicals, he frequently contrib- 
 uted articles of rare excellence, both as to their substance and 
 their form. His style was singularly pure and rich ; showing 
 a finish and correctness, in eloquent paragraphs and exquisite 
 sentences, quite unrivalled. His exaction and fastidiousness, 
 as a critic of the writings of others, were severely applied to 
 his own productions ; and hence the polish, erudition, solid 
 brilliancy, lofty sentiment and thoughtfulness, which have 
 put them among the best specimens of American literature. 
 
 Of Dr. Frothingham as a man it is hardly necessary to 
 speak in this community, to those of his own day and genera- 
 tion, or to those younger than himself, whose privilege it was 
 to meet him and enjoy intercourse with him. Courteous, 
 genial, hospitable, liberal in his conservatism, catholic in his 
 judgments, free from all petty envies and jealousies, without 
 ostentation, and scorning loud or mere professions, there was 
 about him a winning charm that made his presence and his 
 speech ever welcome to all. 
 
 It is impossible, in these necessarily hurried lines, to pay 
 the tribute due to his home virtues, conscientious patriotism, 
 assiduity as a Christian teacher, and readiness to contribute 
 all in his power to the advancement of sound learning, wise 
 charities, refining art, and whatever else might serve to pro- 
 mote the intellectual and moral well-being of the community. 
 
 To his excellence and his example in these respects others 
 will hasten to do justice. We must be content with this 
 general and imperfect expression of regard for the memory 
 
240 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 of one, whose works and words are not to be forgotten or the 
 less prized, because the close of his more than threescore and 
 ten years was veiled and hidden by blindness and inexorable 
 disease. 
 
 Another friend and classmate bore witness to Dr. 
 Frothingham's goodness of heart in these words : 
 
 I have personal knowledge of his kindness and generosity, 
 for I have been the almoner of his bounty ; and I know that 
 some — I believe that many — recall his acts of kindness, and 
 bless his memory. 
 
 With Dr. Frothingham died virtually his type of 
 Unitarianism. It was the old-fashioned faith with 
 ^ a sentimental modification. The soul of a cast-off re- 
 ligion was in it ; no new principle was adopted ; no 
 fresh law was invoked. Neither Channing's idea of 
 the dignity of human nature, nor Mr. Parker's of 
 another source of revelation, was accepted. It was 
 "Christian" after the common definition, enlarged 
 according to the enlightenment of the generation and 
 the intellectual culture demanded of educated men. 
 All speculative questions were avoided. The preach- 
 ing was almost entirely practical, and practical after 
 the ancient pattern, not according to modern ideas, 
 humanitarian and social. Penitence was inculcated 
 and humiliation, and veneration, and almsgiving, 
 and self-distrust, and thankfulness for usual mercies, 
 and dependence on divine Providence, and submis- 
 sion of reason to revelation. Even men like James 
 Walker and John Gorham Palfrey dwelt much on 
 the virtues of " piety " so called. Alexander Young 
 
THE END. 241 
 
 was a good example of tlie usage popular at that 
 time among " liberal Christians," moving, as they did, 
 along the sober level of the common morality, un- 
 ecclesiastical, undogmatical, following the line of 
 simple, plain, average duty. My father tried to 
 render this poetical and in a sense ideal ; but it sel- 
 dom or never rose to the height of the spiritual. ^ 
 Unitarianism could not be called dry or negative, 
 while its ethics were so vital, but it certainly was 
 not succulent or deeply interior. It was a reason- 
 able, becoming, dignified, respectable, elegant in its 
 best aspect, delicate system, not severely naturalistic, 
 and only gently scholarly ; conservative, of course, 
 as well of religious as of social traditions, it was in 
 no condition to sustain a shock from either quarter. 
 It was natural that educated, cultivated people of 
 literary tastes and high social position, self-respect- 
 ing, stable, gentlemanly, should connect themselves 
 with Unitarian societies, for such were supported by 
 external props, and the congregations were, in fact, 
 composed of the comfortable, the well-to-do, the re- 
 spectable. Eiforts were made to prove that Unitar- 
 ianism was adapted to the poor, the untaught, the 
 simple, the temj^ted, the miserable, but these attempts 
 were never conspicuously successful. The majority 
 of men preferred Calvinism with its mysticism and 
 its fervor. Natural conscience was not enough for 
 them, nor were their minds sufficiently strong to 
 grasp conceptions purely rational. Ernest Kenan's 
 
 criticism in his article on " Channing and the Unitari- 
 16 
 
242 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 an Movement in the United States," in tlie " Etudes 
 d'Histoire Religieuse " is substantially just, thougb 
 more true of Unitarianism than of Dr. Channing. 
 He describes it as " une theologie a la Franklin sans 
 grande portee metaphysique ni visee transcenden- 
 tale." " On ne ref ait pas un reve par un acte de la 
 volonte." He compares St. Francis d'Assisi with 
 Channing, and while admitting the intellectual ab- 
 surdity of the old religions, contends for their power 
 over the imagination. This, Unitarianism, however 
 reasonable, never had, neither had it the exaltation 
 \y of sentiment which, however far from being sensible, 
 was captivating to the soul. The denial of the most 
 irrational yet most fascinating and impressive doc- 
 trines — the depravity of human nature, atonement, 
 election, substitution, everlasting punishment — was 
 precisely the cause of its rejection by the mass of man- 
 kind ; more especially as no equally absorbing ideas 
 were substituted for them. This gave the dry, cold, 
 baiTen, negative character the system clearly had in 
 the popular judgment. It was in vain to appeal to 
 texts of Scripture. The Bible was not to the multi- 
 tude a text, but the whole mind of God ; a mystery, 
 to be interpreted by the soul, not by the understand- 
 ing. The creed, also, was inspired in the common 
 apprehension, and, being the later version of the 
 divine thought, could rightfully explain the earlier 
 revelation ; so that nothing was gained by so-called 
 clearness or simplicity of statement. The very notion 
 of inspiration implied a fulness of meaning that the 
 
THE END. 243 
 
 iuman intellect could not measure ; the most obscure 
 Mnts might contain the deepest intimations of super- 
 human intelligence ; and even when nothing was 
 spoken to the outward ear the inward ear might be 
 audibly addressed. This was a weak point of the 
 Unitarianism we are considering. If it could have 
 discarded entirely the belief in the inspiration of 
 Scripture and planted itself squarely upon the spirit- 
 ual laws as disclosed to the soul, as Emerson did, its 
 path would have been plain. But this was impos- 
 sible; half-way measures were all that presented 
 themselves, and these did not cripple its march. It 
 appealed to nature and yet accepted the super- 
 natural. It denied the deity of Christ and still 
 called him the Son of Grod. It ascribed moral 
 attributes to persons, but termed him Saviour, 
 Redeemer, Mediator, lavishing on him every 
 epithet of glory. It received the stories of the resur- 
 rection, the ascension, the raising of the dead, the 
 multiplication of the loaves, miracles, prophecies, and 
 yet applied reason to the story of the superhuman 
 birth. The truth is that it did noi; carry out any funda- 
 mental principles of doubt. The criticism was neither 
 brave nor thorough. In theology there was no cri- 
 terion but common-sense. In the matter of the Scrip- 
 tures, the old tradition was substantially adhered to. 
 The inspiration of the Bible was taken for granted. 
 Prophecy was tinisted in. Superhuman influence 
 was claimed, and although a spiritual meaning was 
 inserted when the letter was revolting or absurd, the 
 
244 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 divine mind was supposed to be at work. Tlie con- 
 clusions of Andrews Norton, an accomplislied and 
 elegant scholar, severe after his way in his strictures 
 on the " sacred text," were tacitly received as final. 
 He was the great authority, as bold, fearless, truth- 
 ful as he was exact and careful. What he discarded 
 as ungenuine might safely be thrown aside ; what he 
 admitted as part of the original writing could be 
 safely relied on. Most of these Unitarians pinned 
 their faith unreservedly to him, and were satisfied 
 with his argument for the genuineness of the Gos- 
 pels. The few who were not, fell back on the books 
 themselves as being of providential and therefore un- 
 accountable origin. A good example of these latter 
 is furnished by the following extract from a letter of 
 my father to Mr. Norton in regard to his demonstra- 
 tion of the authorship of the four Gospels. 
 
 " My notion of the matter is that no hypothesis 
 explains the composition and mode of growth of 
 those wonderful books. Remarkable in every thing 
 else, they are remarkable also in being without father 
 or mother, as Melchisedec was before them. Like 
 the Nile to the ancients, they hid their source. It 
 does appear to me impossible, on the face of the rec- 
 ord, that such writings should be independent wiit- 
 ings, and I can come to no theory that shall explain 
 to me how they arose. Well, then, I can do without 
 any theory, and acknowledge my ignorance. . . . 
 It does not seem to me that the supposition of 
 genuineness accounts for the phenomena ; and there- 
 
THE END. 245 
 
 fore your theory fails to satisfy nie, as much as the 
 minute inventions of the ' common-document ' men, 
 and the ' copying-of-one-another ' men. This being 
 my view of the subject, you see what a wide field 
 of skirmish I have chosen for myself. No heavy- 
 armed soldier or close-combatant am I." 
 
 This candid evasion of the difficulty escapes from 
 the point of the sword, but leaves the way open to 
 sentiment and to any amount of faith. The weeding 
 out of the tares had no effect in impairing the sanc- 
 tity of the record. The approach of the scalpel was 
 not dreaded. Thus, whether Mr. Norton's hypothesis 
 was welcomed or not, inspiration was preserved ; for 
 Mr. Norton, too, was a reverent believer, and having, 
 as he felt sure, clarified the Word, he gave himself 
 up without reserve to the motives of a tender and 
 trustful heart. Criticism, in his hands, was any 
 thing but cold. Not many did as much as he to 
 promote evangelical feelings among his fellow-believ- 
 ers. He was a man of the warmest affections, as 
 was shovni in his ardent friendship for Charles Eliot, 
 and in his childlike piety. This union of loyalty 
 to the truth and personal devotion explains the 
 serenity of faith which the Unitarians cherished. 
 Criticism, as we know it, had not reached here so 
 early ; in fact much of it was unborn. Ewald's 
 <' History of Christ and His Age " was not published 
 till 1857, twenty years after the letter to Mr. Norton, 
 quoted above, was written. Kuenen was unheard 
 of, and even if his studies had been familiar, they 
 
246 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 would have been remanded to the category of theo- 
 ries, while piety would have continued to regard the 
 Bible as the word of God. Since Ferdinand Chris- 
 tian Baur could preach in a Lutheran pulpit and at 
 the same time, in his lecture-room, teach that the 
 Gospels were literary pamphlets, tendenz-schriften, it 
 is not surprising that earlier disciples paid no heed 
 to a criticism which was far less destructive. It is 
 the evil of divorcing knowledge from faith that jus- 
 tice is done to neither. Knowledge is discredited, is 
 ,^ consigned to a subordinate, not to say an insignificant 
 position ; and faith is degraded from a spiritual prin- 
 ciple to a sentimental feeling, based upon tradition. 
 Knowledge was simply held at arm's length instead 
 of being invited to take full possession of its own 
 department and extend the literary laws over their 
 whole legitimate domain. Criticism, it is true, had 
 not gone far at that time, but it had gone far enough 
 to establish its method and to show the distinction 
 between the two provinces of faith and reason. 
 
 The unconsciousness of any radical change in reli- 
 gious ideas is revealed in a hymn which my father 
 wrote for me, in December, 1863. It was not sus- 
 pected that the authority of Scripture would be 
 rejected, that the stoiy of Jesus would be discred- 
 ited, that the Christ of the Church and the Creed 
 would be repudiated, that the Fatherhood of God 
 would be called in question, and that the fundamen- 
 tal doctrines of theism' would be doubted, by religious 
 men too, and in the name of a spiritual faith. This 
 hymn was one of the last he wrote. 
 
THE END. 247 
 
 ON THE DEDICATION OF THE HOUSE OF WORSHIP OF THE 
 
 THIRD UNITARIAN SOCIETY, NEW YORK, 
 
 DECEMBER 25, 1863. 
 
 One Father, God, we own ; 
 
 One Spirit evermore ; 
 One Christ, with manger, cross, and throne, 
 
 The Light, the Way, the Door. 
 
 In souls we hail his birth ; 
 
 'T is now he comes again : 
 His kingdom is the convert earth, 
 
 His Church all faithful men. 
 
 The Scriptures thus we read ; 
 
 Of strangest powers compiled. 
 To mould the heart, and clear the creed 
 
 Of earth's frail, clouded child. 
 
 Its essence, not its writ, 
 
 Our sovereign rule we call ; 
 Not fastening down all truth to it, 
 
 But widening it to all. 
 
 With this free reverence. Lord, 
 
 In Christly church estate. 
 With earnest, brotherly accord. 
 
 These walls we dedicate, 
 
 , To prayer and holy thought ; 
 
 Affections set above ; 
 To faiths from highest fountains brought, 
 And works of widest love. 
 
 Thy presence. Father, make 
 
 The refuge and supply ; 
 And for thy Truth and Mercy's sake 
 
 Build on, and sanctify. 
 
 The scientific question had. not fairly come up. 
 True, the utmost liberality towards it was expressed, 
 but its array was visible only very far off, on the 
 
248 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 outskirts of tlie Old Testament, in a discussion of a 
 problem in Genesis. At this distance, science could 
 hardly awaken alarm ; nor was it difficult to speak 
 brave words in an article on " Man before Adam." 
 But how would the doctrine of evolution have been 
 met, reversing as it does the entire order of creation, 
 reconstructing the history of the Bible, and making 
 necessary a fresh definition of Providence ? Spen- 
 cer's doctrine would simply have been classified as 
 one of the guesses, and Darmn's theoiy would have 
 been unanswered. The least touch on the vitals of 
 religion, as it was then considered, would have been 
 resented, and the arms would still have cluug to the 
 Cross. Few even yet have the courage to follow out 
 the implications of evolution to their last conse- 
 quences. Fifty years ago nothing threatened the 
 foundations of belief or laid violent hands on the 
 outer walls of revelation, nor was it surmised that 
 the danger might come nearer. If it had been, the 
 old assumptions would have been retained, and the 
 foe, instead of being faced in the fight, or even 
 fought behind battlements, would have been scorn- 
 fully waived off as not fit to encounter the hosts 
 of the revealed God. Half a century ago the pre. 
 possessions covered a great deal of ground. Now 
 the ground is disputed inch by inch, but it is dis- 
 puted. Then it was not so much as disputed, for 
 the adversary was never confronted. Joseph Priest- 
 ley, whose fame as a scientific man extended over 
 Europe, and who suffered for heresy, held to biblical 
 
THE END. 249 
 
 infallibility as long as he lived, his island being 
 guaranteed against the most formidable seas. Theo- 
 dore Parker defended, and must have defended to 
 the last, his view of theism ; and James Martineau 
 contends passionately against the materialists. The 
 Boston Unitarians followed in the footsteps of 
 Priestley. The scientific spirit is of recent origin. 
 It certainly does not ask that any genuine conviction 
 shall be surrendered, for it wants a struggle in 
 order that its own beliefs may be certified ; but it 
 does require that whatever convictions are enter- 
 tained shall be held in accordance with the method 
 of science. It will have no arbitrary reserves, no 
 unassailable positions. But no such refuge as ag- 
 nosticism, no cloudy screen, was necessary in the last 
 generation. Faith asked no apology. The tradition 
 was secure, so that ignorance was justified in assert- 
 ing the tradition. I was present at the Berry Street 
 Conference when Theodore Parker flung into the 
 teeth of a doctor of divinity the miracle of the 
 loaves, and when the latter declined being cate- 
 chised, on the ground of ill-health ! And, on an- 
 other occasion, Mr. Parker asked a prominent divine 
 if Jesus exhausted the infinite. " Pretty much," was 
 the reply. 
 
 That Unitarianism should have no science is then 
 not surprising. That it should have no decisive 
 philosophy, is; for the system was founded upon 
 a philosophy, such as it was. Transcendentalism 
 had a bad name, as being associated with German 
 
250 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 thought, destnictive criticism, unbelief, radicalism 
 of all sorts, and as rendering useless the reliance on 
 miracle, prophecy, and external revelation ; — though 
 the belief in man's spiritual nature involved its car- 
 dinal axioms. Sensationalism was repudiated, be- 
 cause it seemed to limit mind and conscience, though 
 it legitimated its favorite credences. As a rule, the 
 Unitarians were " sensationalists," so far as they 
 were any thing, though this was held in too cinide a 
 form to satisfy all, so nothing was professed. To 
 illustrate : when I was in my first pastorate, I be- 
 came a transcendentalist, and as such made light of 
 the outward props on which the people had been 
 taught to depend. We fell into collision therefore, 
 almost without knowing why. In one of my fre- 
 quent notes to my father I expressed my discontent 
 and put my finger on the cause, — my transcenden- 
 talism and their sensationalism. My father evidently 
 did not appreciate the antagonism of the two sys- 
 tems. Why trouble yourself, he said, about such a 
 distinction ? They know nothing of it, and you 
 need say nothing. Go on as if it did not exist, and 
 confine yourself to undisputed points. As if there 
 were any ! Channing — though his faith had not 
 worked itself clear, and he still had hanging round 
 his mind the rags of the old theology — had never- 
 theless a positive intellectual faith ; a faith in the 
 immanence of God in man. Theodore Parker dis- 
 tinctly abandoned the sensational philosophy, 
 preached the sonship of the soul, and allowed free 
 
THE END. 251 
 
 course to biblical criticism, discrediting every prin- 
 ciple that ajDpealed to external authority. His 
 transcendentalism it was, in fact, that made him 
 so willing to accept the results of " German ration- 
 alism." But convictions such as his led at once 
 to social radicalism, the bugbear of Unitarianism. 
 Channing took an interest in temperance, in prison 
 reform, in education, in the future of the working 
 man, in the slave ; attended the Chardon Street 
 Conference, encouraged experiments like that of 
 Brook Farm, cautiously but deeply meditated funda- 
 mental social changes. Parker was an earnest re- 
 former in many directions. So was Emerson. 
 Ripley, a purely intellectual man, called himself 
 by every name that was offensive to polite ears. 
 There was not a transcendentalist who was not, in 
 some measure, an anti-slavery man, and thus a re- 
 proach. The Unitarians were conservative, believers 
 in providential arrangements of society, believers in 
 respectability, in class distinctions. They did not^ 
 by any means, want to keep things as they were, but 
 they did not want any sudden overturning, or any 
 overturning at all. Their faith was in slow and 
 gradual uplifting, through the diffusion of charity 
 and the spread of truth. Their philosophy lent 
 itself most readily to this; therefore they were 
 sensationalists, rather from social feeling than from 
 metaphysical thinking. I am afraid, too, they 
 avoided close analysis of ideas, as committing them 
 to a theory the results of which might cramp the 
 
252 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 movement of their minds, or compromise their posi- 
 tion in the community. They, more naturally, clung 
 to tradition, and stood where the divine will had 
 placed them. As Puritans, they believed in the 
 unadulterated influence of the Christian religion, in 
 the Scriptures, in the Christ, in the sacraments of 
 the Church. The theological account of all this 
 was partially discarded ; some of it was absolutely 
 repudiated — all that offended the moral sense ; some 
 was merely attenuated — the doctrine of inspiration, 
 for instance, the rank of Jesus, the virtue of the 
 bread and wine of the supper. With purely philo- 
 sophical problems they did not much concern 
 themselves. This was a matter of speculation, not 
 of practice, and their business was to edify ; and if 
 any were interested in such curious speculations as 
 those respecting the origin of ideas, they might 
 follow them up, as scholars, in the study. These 
 things must always remain in dispute; meanwhile 
 moral impressions were certain, and it was a great 
 deal wiser to hold by what was approved. 
 
 In spite of their want of science ; in spite of their 
 indifference to philosophy ; in spite of the vagueness 
 of their theological opinions, these men were real 
 friends of intellectual freedom, genuine promoters of 
 mental independence. The hazy character of their 
 theology, the aesthetic rather than dogmatic tone of 
 their creed, aided this tendency by leaving their 
 minds at liberty to cultivate literature. The insen- 
 sibly secular cast of their thought opened the world 
 
THE END. 253 
 
 of poetry and domesticated the best classics among 
 them. Unconsciously they were Greek and not 
 Asiatic, Western, not Oriental in their culture. 
 Their libraries were miscellaneous, not so much theo- 
 logical as literary in the human sense. The world's 
 books were on the shelves, the masterpieces of Athe- 
 nian, Koman, English, French, German wisdom ; 
 poetic, dramatic, epic, heroic. Unitarianism has 
 always been accompanied by this love of gentile lore. 
 Said a lady to Edward Everett Hale : 
 
 A Unitarian church to you merely means one more name 
 on your calendar. To the people in this town it means better 
 books, better music, better sewerage, better health, better life, 
 less drunkenness, more purity, and better government. 
 
 " Well," said the Boston Herald., " this is the whole 
 issue in a nutshell." This implied a free range of 
 intelligence, confidence in the rational uses of mind, 
 a broad conception of truth, emancipation from doc- 
 trinal trammels. While such productions were not 
 received as, in any way, a substitute for Holy Scrip- 
 ture, or even as a rival to the word of revelation, it 
 was a good deal to countenance them, and give them 
 a place in human culture. Puritanism began this 
 encourao;ement of intellect when it founded Harvard 
 College ; and though it supposed that the effect 
 would be evangelical, still it opened the door wide 
 to the spirit of undogmatic liberty, and led directly 
 to the idea of ethnic scriptures which distinguished 
 the Dial, I remember reading in my youth, to my 
 father's entire satisfaction, the works of ^schylus 
 
254 BOSTON UNITARIANISM, 
 
 and Plato, nor was the least suggestion made that 
 something else might be more edifying. The notion 
 of culture was already supplanting that of conver- 
 sion, and width of view was coming to take the 
 place of "the one thing needful." No objection 
 was made to our reading novels on Sunday. Such 
 books were, of course, regarded as recreations merely, 
 and were never supposed to nourish the " soul," but 
 it was something to allow that they could do so 
 much, and were not wholly abominable. The bar- 
 rier between " sacred " and " profane " compositions 
 existed, but it was not so high that it could not be 
 jumped over. Soon it was to be removed entirely. 
 In the meantime Unitarianism was preparing the way 
 for this final consummation. Unless my memory 
 deceives me, the beginnings of a decided intellectual 
 deliverance from the bondage of tradition can be 
 traced back to my boyhood. I say the beginnings ; 
 the full development came later. When reason was 
 first liberated, none but its enemies foresaw its 
 ultimate triumph. The sole effectual method of 
 dealing with it was to put it under the ban, with all 
 its works, and keep it firmly under lock and key, 
 with a perpetual guard to stop its escape. As soon 
 as Protestantism, in the innocence of its heart set it 
 ] fi'ee, with its wonted proclivity to take an ell where 
 an inch was granted, it put forth its claims. The 
 struggle against creed and Church was long and 
 desperate, as both had power, wealth, and prescrip- 
 tion on their side ; until now the fury of the battle, 
 
THE END. 255 
 
 at least with tliinking people, is about over. The 
 calmness of assured triumph is not attained except by 
 the few, whose weapons of war are in their sheaths ; 
 to the multitude, reason is still an enemy whose at- 
 tacks are to be feared, but who is certain to be con- 
 quered at last. During the long course of its effort to 
 gain headway against ecclesiasticism and dogmatism, 
 reason contracted an aggressive, self -asserting, defiant 
 character that ages only will overcome. Hitherto it 
 has been destructive, but it will not be so always. 
 By and by it will be constructive, and will work to 
 establish belief on rational grounds. This is all it 
 asks for, — an opportunity to display its full power 
 as an organizing faculty, a force of thought taking 
 the place of tradition. What surprises us in the old 
 Unitarianism is the sweetness of its quality, its geni- 
 ality, its hospitable, buoyant spirit. Several causes 
 aided this : its undogmatic attitude ; its freedom 
 from contention ; its indiiference to sectarian distinc- 
 tions ; its unconsciousness of any break or absolute 
 departure from the ancient credence, which it modi- 
 fied but did not abolish ; its quiet assurance of faith ; 
 its abstention from social polemics, sure to run at 
 last into the bitterness of opposition ; its undisturbed 
 possession of the literary field in its most innocent 
 aspect of classical prose and poetry ; its confinement 
 to the realm of taste for beauty in style, and the 
 presentation of good thoughts in lofty and pure 
 form ; its preference of sentiment to ratiocination. 
 Channing's sweetness was in a great measure due, I 
 
256 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 always thought, to the invalidism that kept him 
 secluded from popular strife ; Parker's to his natural 
 disposition, inherited from his mother, and fortified 
 by training. But the sweetness of the regular Uni- 
 tarians belonged to their neutral position as a con- 
 servative body of men who took no part in any 
 disputes, whether doctrinal or social, who believed 
 dutifully, and who studied faithfully as their incli- 
 nation prompted. It must not be inferred that 
 there was no religiousness among the Unitarians. 
 There was a good deal. It was not characteristic of 
 the body. In many cases it was a sentiment rather 
 than a principle, a prompting of duty rather than an 
 impulse of feeling. It is difficult to combine spirit- 
 uality with the critical understanding. But the little 
 book, by Henry Ware, Jr., on the " Formation of the 
 Christian Character," was to the Unitarians what 
 Thomas ^ Kempis' " Imitatio " was to the Catholics, 
 or Law's " Serious Call " was to the Orthodox Prot- 
 estants. 
 
 A very admirable trait in Unitarianism was its 
 reverence for personal character. It was balanced, 
 even, moderate. Its friends were not ascetic in any 
 sense or in any degree. They lived as generously 
 as was comely, after the manner of their time, which 
 was plain, simple, undemonstrative, restrained. They 
 were not vegetarians, they were not total abstainers, 
 they did not wear hair shirts, or live in hovels, or 
 severely mortify the flesh. But they were never 
 excessive in their use of the good things of this 
 
THE END. 257 
 
 world. They were temperate in all tilings^ ever 
 keeping conscience and good-sense uppermost, lead- 
 ing a reasonable, sober, dignified existence, all the 
 higher in tone for the modest indulgences they per- 
 mitted to themselves, but kept in check. 
 
 On the restoration of the Federal Street theatre to 
 its originally destined use in 1846, my father wrote 
 some lines, which were printed but not offered for 
 recitation or prize, probably because such perform- 
 ance was thought to be inconsistent with the clerical 
 profession. But a delight in the theatrical art be- 
 longed to him, and he never visited New York with- 
 out going to see William Burton, and getting the 
 creases of professional care taken out of him by that 
 laughter-provoking comedian. 
 
 Not the ministers only, but the laity had this vir- 
 tuous, grave, healthy moral character, genial, but 
 upright, honest, and chaste. A singular purity 
 marked all their behavior. Integrity was their dis- 
 tinction from highest to lowest. Their enemies 
 admitted as much when they reproached them for 
 being simply moral men ; as if character was not the 
 consummate flower of faith ; as if goodness such as 
 theirs would not sweeten the world ; as if a practical 
 allegiance to the cardinal ideas of religion — God, 
 immortality, the divine origin of truth — was a sign of 
 decay and not of growth ; as if the decline of theo- 
 logical animosity was not an absolute gain, and the 
 postponement of creed to conduct was not a thing to 
 
 be welcome ! Indeed, the best that can be said of 
 
 17 
 
258 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 tliis much-abused Unitarianism is tliis respect for 
 worth. If any fault may be found with it, it must 
 be on the score of its rigidity. It was a little too 
 unbending in its judgments, a little too abrupt. 
 There was some want of shading. If conduct was 
 not right it was wrong. White existed, black ex- 
 isted ; but gray did not exist. Yet, in these days of 
 allowance, of charity, of all-sidedness, of studied 
 fairness, such ethical dogmatism is somewhat refresh- 
 ing. True, it betrayed a lack of color, but this is 
 cancelled by the single-minded integrity that walked 
 straight and clean through the crooked and dirty 
 places of life. This uprightness might, in part, have 
 been due to a certain narrowness of perception im- 
 posed by social usages, that were not elastic as they 
 are now ; but even this may be pardoned on account 
 of the virtue which is so precious. Breadth is an 
 excellent quality, but it is dearly purchased at the 
 expense of sturdiness of will. It must be a high 
 type of humanity that can keep pace with the ut- 
 most liberalism, matching its mental largeness with 
 a corresponding moral courage. Boston was a little 
 city ; everybody was known ; everybody had a repu- 
 tation to maintain ; the stays of society were against 
 all walls to shore them up. Now the town is much 
 larger and more under mercantile influences ; and it 
 is mainly by falling back on old reliances that the 
 ancient standard of character can be preserved. One 
 is somehow obliged to contract his world if he would 
 prop up his morale, and the Unitarians were fortu- 
 
THE END. 259 
 
 nate in being able to live in tbeir little universe and 
 yet maintain their souls alive. Modern Unitarian- 
 ism is a very different system, more social, more 
 ethical, more reformatory, more scientific, more demo- 
 cratic, more willing to accept the residts of radical 
 criticism, more rationalistic, more philosophical, but its 
 firmness of texture is largely owing to the training it 
 derived from its ancestors, and the noble examples of 
 the fathers who preceded them in establishing the 
 supremacy of the attributes on which society reposes. 
 However broad the faith may be, however indiffer- 
 ent to theological definitions, however elastic in sym- 
 pathy, however enthusiastic for progress, it will 
 always be mindful of its origin ; it will always be 
 grateful to its creators ; it will always set character 
 before credence ; and, being confident of its princi- 
 ples, will allow free movement to the mind. 
 
 In this brief sketch description has been purposely 
 avoided of several important men, who were either 
 well enough known already from being written 
 about, or who have made a single impression, or who 
 have been distinguished in other fields, — men like 
 Charles Lowell, John Thornton Kirkland, Joseph 
 McKean, Thaddeus Mason Harris, John Pierce, Jos. 
 Allen, Thomas Gray, the Wares — Henry, Henry Jr., 
 William, — Samuel Gilman, Wm. H. Furness, Alvan 
 Lamson, Ephraim Peabody, James Walker, John G. 
 Palfrey, Edward B. Hall, George Putnam, Francis 
 W. P. Greenwood, Ezra Stiles Gannett, Pobert C. 
 Waterston, Frederick H. Hedge, P. W. Emerson, 
 
26o BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 John H. Morisou, Henry W. Bellows, Cyrus A. 
 Bartol, George E. Ellis, William Newell, William B. 
 O. Peabody, Oliver W. B. Peabody, Andrew P. Pea- 
 body, Andrews Norton. These were all remarkable 
 men, many of them very remarkable, in different 
 ways, as preachers, theologians, philosophers, writers, 
 ministers, critics, philanthropists, poets, — men of 
 unusually large cultivation, even of saintly disposi- 
 tion ; men of decided individuality ; men, oftentimes, 
 of genius, brilliant, profound; men of mind and of 
 soul. On reading their works two things have 
 struck me : first, their moderation of view, their 
 freedom from partisanship, their reluctance to com- 
 mit themselves to systems of thought, their devotion 
 to the practical aspects of opinion. They kept their 
 critical and philosophical speculations, so long as 
 they were mere speculations — useless for edification, 
 — to themselves or the seclusion of the study ; saying 
 nothing about them in public, exercising, in fact, a 
 continence that was misunderstood, being construed 
 as timidity or hypocrisy, when, in truth, it was merely 
 a persuasion on their part that surmises of this kind 
 were unfruitful in their influence on the religious 
 life. This was the one interest to be regarded by 
 the clergyman, and was to be watched over strictly. 
 Questions of theology were of small moment when 
 the spiritual welfare w^as concerned. They confined 
 themselves, therefore, to the work of increasing the 
 sum of moral sentiment. In the second place, I 
 have been impressed with the prominence given to 
 
THE END. 261 
 
 the literary as opposed to tlie controversial temper. 
 Most of these men preferred to write essays, narra- 
 tives, poems, biographies ; to pursue studies in his- 
 tory, science, botany ; to read Goethe, Schiller, 
 Moliere, Shakespeare ; to cultivate art, music, the 
 drama. An atmosphere of elegant taste pervades 
 the denomination. Even when occasion calls for 
 polemics the argument is usually conducted after the 
 manner of one more interested in the style than in the 
 dogmas under discussion, and who would be gladly 
 let ojff from the duty of debate. In A. P. Putnam's 
 volume, "Singers and Songs of the Liberal Faith," 
 there are more than seventy names, and these are 
 but a portion of the versifiers. The larger number 
 are clergymen, but there are upwards of a score of 
 laymen and more than a dozen women. It is true 
 that the wealth of our poetry is not much increased 
 by this contribution, but it indicates the bent of the 
 denomination, and it shows how, in this estimation, 
 all the religious sentiments naturally ran to music. 
 
 There has been, in all ages, an indifference to 
 theology, as the theory, the doctrinal account of 
 religion. The Catholic mystics felt it ; the Protes- 
 tant mystics felt it ; the devout, the spiritually 
 minded, the seraphic of every communion, Quakers, 
 Unitarians, disciples of the inner light, have felt it. 
 But this kind of indifference was occasional, not 
 general, not native to the sect. There was no system- 
 atic repudiation of the validity of a doctrinal scheme. 
 The belief was accepted and was merely abandoned 
 
262 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 in times of exaltation. The Unitarians were the 
 first, so far as I know, who deliberately substituted 
 a rational idealism for the creed ; who adopted art, 
 xj humanity, literature as expressions of the divine 
 mind ; who set up social morality as a means of 
 grace. Spirituality was not conspicuous among 
 them, in the usual acceptation of the term. Even 
 Emerson, their chief idealist, beamed with a mild 
 radiance, spoke wisely of the spiritual laws, and was 
 supremely interested in ethical principles. There 
 were theologians among them ; there were disj)utants ; 
 but as an order there was very little concern with 
 doctrinal distinction. They were scholars, pastors, 
 readers of books. Secular culture came up in their 
 generation. Dogmatism received its death-blow. 
 The creed was forgotten. The subsequent detach- 
 ment from the theological method in favor of the 
 scientific, which has been gaining ground during the 
 last thirty years and has reached its culmination 
 now, is, in my judgment, largely due to the example 
 of these men. 
 
 Nor is it surprising that they kept theology, 
 though in the background, and were ready to fall 
 back on it whenever they felt called to bring forward 
 the reasons for their faith. The era of a purely 
 spiritual belief had not fairly come. It was a soli- 
 tary, personal thing, peculiar to a few men, who 
 stood by themselves. Most wanted a tradition, a 
 system that had roots, that was held by generations 
 of men, that had its saints and martyrs, that could 
 
THE END. 263 
 
 appeal to its sanctities, could bring learning and 
 attested piety to its support, and was recommended 
 by experience. Thougli in details it may have been 
 modified, some parts being dropped and others 
 altered, the substance of it remained the same, and 
 they knew no other guarantee. That of the soul 
 they could not comprehend, for the soul shared the 
 infirmity of human nature, which, in their opinion, 
 needed regeneration. The idea of an incorruptible 
 humanity was still far from them, and they clung to 
 some external revelation which was susceptible of 
 demonstration. They entertained no oracles except 
 the " oracles of God." They did not think it necessary 
 to call attention to their tenets any more than to 
 their cellars, which nevertheless existed, as all men 
 were aware, and could be shown on occasion. Gen- 
 erally they might be taken on trust. A stranger 
 taking up his residence in the city, and asking about 
 Unitarian churches, was recommended to go to Dr. 
 Prothingham's, for there he would hear less about 
 " Christ " than elsewhere. This was not because 
 Dr. Frothingham believed so little, but because he 
 believed so much. He had no faith " to speak of " ; 
 it could bear silence. 
 
 Neither had the gospel of individualism become 
 familiar, as it has been for the last forty years. 
 During the transcendental period, individualism was 
 preached as a duty, a sacred obligation imposed by 
 the spiritual laws. Before this period was fully 
 inaugurated and had settled down into systematic 
 
264 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 ways, it meant simply confusion and was repelled by 
 lovers of order. When it had passed, individualism 
 gave place to a reign of law which became a substi- 
 tute for tradition, and authority was transferred 
 from Scripture to philosophy, the new word of the 
 Highest. The philosophy of Channing had dis- 
 appeared. The philosophy of Parker would not 
 bear analysis. The old theology would submit to 
 no further attenuation. Transcendentalism had gone. 
 Sentimentalism was out of date. A new gospel for 
 Liberalism, — faith founded on knowledge and sus- 
 tained by inquiry, — must be the spiritual religion of 
 the future. 
 
 But this is not a development from Unitarianism, 
 properly so-called ; still less is it a continuance of 
 Channing or Parker. For though the former always 
 remained within the limits of the recognized faith^ 
 and first awakened the Unitarian controversy, and is 
 regarded as the father of the sect, still he would 
 never assume a party name, evidently feeling that 
 he did not belong to a denomination, and he intro- 
 duced a pi'inciple which, faii'ly carried out, as it was 
 by Emerson, Ripley, Alcott, and the Transcenden- 
 talists generally — I allude to his doctrine of the 
 essential worth of human nature — was irreconcil- 
 able with any form of evangelical belief, founded, 
 as this was, upon the need of supernatural redemp- 
 tion by a disordered race ; while the latter, though 
 claiming to be a consistent Unitarian, substituted a 
 new basis for religion which not merely dismissed 
 
THE END. 265 
 
 the dogma of depravity, but rendered unnecessary a 
 revelation or a saviour. The erection of another 
 tribunal — the soul — made Scripture superfluous and 
 dethroned Jesus. 
 
 It is true that Unitarianism v^as somewhat con- 
 fused by the admixture of incongruous elements, 
 beside the unavoidable imperfection of its exegesis. 
 George Ripley reckoned my father among the early 
 Transcendentalists, a classification in which the good 
 man would not have taken supreme delight. James 
 Walker and William P. Lunt used the intuitive phi- 
 losophy, the one to legitimate faith, the other to fur- 
 nish a ground for the religious emotions ; but the 
 main drift was certainly in the opposite direction. 
 There was a vehement protest against such doctrines 
 of Calvinism as an endless hell, the damnation of 
 infants, the perdition of the heathen, but this was 
 simply the outcry of the natural heart and conscience 
 which had by this time emancipated themselves from 
 dogma, and were not afraid to assert the claims of 
 pity, mercy, kindness, common humanity. No phil- 
 osophical ideas were involved in this assertion. 
 The moral indignation at the horror of war or the 
 enormities of slavery was simply human. It would 
 have been strange indeed if cultivated men in the 
 nineteenth century had been indifferent to evils 
 that were thrust upon their notice. The won- 
 der is that they were so much so as they were ; they 
 would have been far more outraged, if a deep- 
 seated principle had impelled them. 
 
266 BOSTON UNITARIANISM. 
 
 The Unitarians appealed to the Bible, and went no 
 further. They were shut up in its enclosure, and 
 will always be. They identified religion with Chris- 
 tianity and Christianity with the Scriptures. Efforts 
 will continue to be made to bring the New Testa- 
 ment into line with the latest spiritual experiences, 
 but the ancient tradition will not, in theii' case, be 
 transcended. 
 
 The new Unitarianism, as it is termed, is neither 
 sentimental nor transcendental nor traditional. It is 
 rather historical and experimental. It does not grow 
 out of the old. It oversteps the boundary of Scripture 
 and even of Christianity, and is a form of theism ; 
 theism generously interpreted in accordance with 
 knowledge, thought, science, spirituality. It is a 
 religion of aspiration, poetic feeling, imagination, 
 prescience. Its doctrine about God is rational, sci- 
 entific, human, answering the needs of the highest 
 ideality. Its immortality is a hope, a trust, a conso- 
 lation for sorrow, an incitement to endeavor, a faith 
 of the human race, the last term of evolution, an in- 
 ference from a spmtual nature in man, a necessary 
 complement to destiny, an anticipation of future 
 blessedness, a promise of full fruition, — never a tra- 
 ditionary belief. It conceives of moral law as an 
 element inwrought into the nature of things, or a 
 product of the best experience, or the feeling of 
 exalted souls, or an attribute of the normal conscience 
 — never as an echo from Sinai or a breath from the 
 mountain of the Beatitudes. In a word, it is an ele- 
 
THE END. 267 
 
 vated kind of religious faith, simple and devout. It 
 calls itself Unitarian simply because that name sug- 
 gests mental freedom, and breadth, and progress, and 
 elasticity, and joy. Another name might do as well, 
 perhaps be more accurately descriptive. But no 
 other would be as impressive, or, on the whole, so 
 honorable. 
 
INDEX, 
 
 Abolitionists, 194, 197-199 
 
 Adams, Charles Francis, 94 
 
 Adams, Henry, 195, 196 
 
 Alcott, Bronson, 264 
 
 Allen, J. H., 210, 212 
 
 Allston, Washington, 6 
 
 Alps, the, 147 
 
 Ancestry, 15 
 
 Anthology Club, 19, 206 
 
 Antinomian Controversy, 30 
 
 Arnold, M., quoted, 91 
 
 Asceticism among the Unitarians, 
 256, 257 
 
 Ashburton, Lord, 122 
 
 Association, American Unitarian, 64 
 
 Association, Boston, of Congrega- 
 tional ministers, 33, 184, 213 
 
 Athenaeum, 19 
 
 B 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 176 
 
 Bancroft, George, 139, 140, 160 
 
 Barnard, Charles, 65 
 
 Barrett, Samuel, 65, 160, 161, 225 
 
 Bartol, C. A., 58, 160, 216 
 
 Baur, F. C, 57, 246 
 
 Belgium, 145 
 
 Bellows, H. W., 210 
 
 Benevolent Fraternity of Churches, 65 
 
 Berne, 147 
 
 Berry Street Conference, 63 
 
 Bigelow, Jacob, 94 
 
 Blindness, 155, 238 
 
 Books, 18 
 
 Boston, 17, 20, 127 
 
 Bowditch, Dr. N., 94 
 
 Breakfasts in London, 141 
 
 Briggs, G. W., 190 
 
 Brooks, Ann Gorham, 93, 228, etc., 233 
 
 Brooks, Peter Chardon, 21, 93, 94 
 
 etc., 126, 203 
 Buckingham, Ellen, Miss, 233 
 Buckminster, J., quoted, 196 
 Buckminster, J. S., 23, 75 
 
 C 
 
 Carlyle, Thomas, 60, 142 
 Channing, W. E,, 13, 27, 49, loi, 
 
 125, 139, 160, 161, 168, 193, 211, 
 
 251, 255, 264 
 Character among the Unitarians, 256 
 Charles X., 135 
 Chauncy, Charles, 28 
 Church, First, in Boston, 26, 33 
 Church, the Temple, in London, 
 
 141, 144 
 Clarke, James Freeman, 35, 61, 62, 
 
 190, 193 
 Cities, Peculiarities of, 140 
 Clergy, 23 
 Cotton, John, 20, 34 
 Cousin, Victor, 152 
 Covenant of First Church, 29 
 
 D 
 Dewey, Orville, 3, 69, 160, 21I 
 Diman, J. L., 35 
 Disciple, Christian, the, 207 
 Doyle, J. A., 69, 201 
 Dwight, Theodore, quoted, 194 
 
 269 
 
2/0 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 B 
 
 Eliot, Charles, 94 
 
 Elliot, Samuel, 102 
 
 Ellis, A. B., 36 
 
 Ellis, G. E., 160, 169, 210 
 
 Ellis, Rufus, 35, 154, 160, 193 
 
 Emerson, R. W., 10, 13, 26, 57, 60, 
 
 70, loi, 102, 126, 160, 168, 180, 
 
 243, 251, 262, 264 
 Everett, Edward, 23, 76, 94, 129, 
 
 141, 158, 160, 181, 194, 197, 201 
 Examiner, Christian, the, 60, 206- 
 
 208 
 
 Felton, C. C, 159 
 
 Fields, J. T., 165 
 
 Follen, Charles, 49 
 
 Fourier, Charles, 142 
 
 Fox, T. B., 210, 238 
 
 Francis, Convers, 72, 160, 186 etc., 
 
 193 
 
 Freeman, James, 160 
 
 Frothingham, N. L., 11, 15, 16, 22, 
 24, 27, 52, 53, 60, 66, 67, 72-77, 
 127, 131, 150, 155, 158, 216, 217, 
 225, 226, 234, 235 etc., 238, 240, 
 244, 250, 263 
 
 Furness, W. H., 102, 166 
 
 G 
 
 Gannett, E. S., 65, 160, 166, 213, 
 
 quoted, 216 
 Gannett, W. C, 216 
 Garrison, W. L., 126 
 Gospels, the, 244 
 Gray, F. T., 65, 225 
 Gray, Thomas, 160, 223 
 Gray, William, 122 
 Greenwood, F. W. P., 51, 66, 72, 
 
 iC)0, 167, 211 
 
 H 
 
 Hale, E. E., 160, 211, 253 
 
 Hall, E. B., 166 
 
 Hall, Nathaniel, 189 etc. 
 
 Hamilton, Alex., statue of, 233 
 
 Harris, T. M., 160, 190 
 
 Harvard College, 18, 19, 159, 201 
 
 Hedge, F. H., 72, 102, 129, 160^ 
 
 234, quoted 
 Hemans, Felicia, 13S 
 Hillard, G. S., 160 
 Huntington, F. D., 160, 162, quoted 
 
 K 
 
 Kempis, Thomas a, " De Imitatione 
 
 Christi," 256 
 King, T. S., 160 
 King's Chapel, 227 
 Kirkland, J. T., 21, 23, 160, 167 
 Kneeland, Abner, lOi 
 
 Lafayette, 139 
 Latin School, 20 
 
 Law, William, " Serious Call," 256 
 Lawrence, Abbot, 94 
 Lawrence, Amos A., 196 
 Layman, 51 
 Lecture, Thursday, 31 
 Libraries in Boston, 19 
 Lincoln, Abraham, 198 
 Literary Spirit, 90 
 London, 140 
 
 Longfellow, H. W., 145, 159, 198 
 Lothrop, S. K., 68, 160 
 Lotteries, 113-115 
 Lowell, Charles, 66, 160 
 Lowell, J. R., 170 
 Lunt, W. P., II, 51, 72, 160, 171, 
 26^ 
 
INDEX. 
 
 lyi 
 
 M 
 
 Macaulay, T. B., 141 
 Martineau, James, 56 
 Mather, Increase, 6g 
 May, S. J., 49 
 McKean, Joseph, 22, 27 
 Men, Distinguished, among the Uni- 
 tarians, 259 
 Meyerbeer, 142 
 Milman, H. H., 144 
 Milton, John, 200 
 Morton, Charles, 219 
 Myers, F. W, H., quoted, 91 
 
 N 
 
 Napoleon III., 153 
 Norton, Andrews, 55, 70, 139, 207, 
 211, 244, 245 
 
 O 
 
 Old and New, the, 208, 211 
 Old World and New, 130, 156 
 Orleans, Maid of, 143, 149 
 
 Paine, Thomas, 226 
 
 Palfrey, J. G., 2, 23, 72, 76, 160, 
 181, 190, 240 
 
 Paris, 142, 143 
 
 Parker, Theodore, i, 8, 13, 33, 34, 
 39. 55. 57. 59. 62, 64, 69, 70, loi, 
 155, 160, 168, 179, 187, 193, 204, 
 2og, 218, 249-251, 256, 264 
 
 Parkman, Francis, 21, 66, 129, 160, 
 161 etc., igo, 224 
 
 Peabody, A. P., 71, 181, 190 
 
 Peabody, Elizabeth, 6, 7 
 
 Peabody, Ephraim, 160 
 
 Peabody, W. B. O., 72 
 
 Peace, Congress, 149-152 
 
 Perkins, James, 19, 94 
 
 Phillips, W., 126, 197 
 
 Pierce, John, 22, 160, 219, 224 
 
 Pierpont, John, 64, 160, 184 etc., 
 
 193 
 Porter, Eliphalet, 160 
 Prescott, W, H., 94, 159, 201 
 Priestley, Joseph, 18, 248 
 Putnam, A. P., 175, 261 
 Putnam, George, 160, 190 
 
 R 
 
 Rachel, 142, 153 
 
 Register, Christian, 212 
 
 Kenan, Ernest, 3, 242 
 
 Repository and Review, 207 
 
 Rheims, I4g 
 
 Rhine, the, 145 
 
 Ripley, George, 13, 160, ig3, 251, 
 
 264, 265 
 Robbins, Chandler, 72, 160, 177 
 
 etc., 218 
 Rogers, Samuel, 141 
 Romanism, 133 
 
 Saint Cloud, 151 
 Sewall, Samuel, 93 
 Shaw, Lemuel, 94, loi 
 Slavery, 194, 198 
 Society (Port), 66 
 Society (Seaman's Aid), 66 
 Sparks, Jared, 23, 160 
 Story Joseph, 101 
 Sumner, Charles, 126, 199 
 
 Tappan, Lewis, 65 
 Terracina, 132 
 Thacher, Judge S. C, 167 
 Theological Decomposition, 226 
 Thompson, J. W., 190 
 
272 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Ticknor, George, ig, 159, 201 
 Transcendentalism, 264, 265 
 Treves, 148 
 Tuckerman, Joseph, 65 
 
 U 
 
 Union, the, 198 
 
 Union (Young Men's Christian), 66 
 Unitarian Charities, 127 
 Unitarian Controversy, 67 
 Unitarianism, 1,23, 38, 69, 193, 200, 
 
 204, 227, 240 etc., 265 
 Unitarianism, the New, 259, 266, 267 
 Unitarian Liberality, 127 
 Unitarian Moral Sentiment, 156, 157 
 Unitarian Piety, 256 
 Universalism, 227 
 
 Verses by N. L. Frothingham, 78- 
 85, 88, 89, 128, 130, 157, 172- 
 174, 181, 197, 247 
 
 W 
 
 Wales, T. B., 94 
 
 Walker, James, 2, 50, 65, 71, 72, 102, 
 
 160, 183, 211, 240, 265 
 Ware, H., Jr., 65, 102, 160, 164, 
 
 180, 256 
 Wasson, D. A., 193 
 Webber, Samuel, 20 
 Webster, Daniel, 94, 126, 196, 197, 
 
 201 
 Webster, Noah, 19 
 Weiss, John, 193 
 Westminster Abbey, 136 
 Whipple, E. P., 164 
 White, D. A., loi 
 Willson, E, B., 193 
 Winthrop, John, 200, 201 
 Winthrop, R. C, 167, 170 
 Worship, Places of, in Boston (1811), 
 
 48 
 
 Y 
 Young, Alexander, 2, 66, 72, 160, 
 
 166 etc., 225, 240 
 
Pnnceton Theological Seminary- Speer Ltbr.iry 
 
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