tatistics, new historical
investigations, new scientific discoveries, new systems of Scriptural
exegesis. He did not for a day in the year nor an hour in the day make
rest a matter of principle, nor did he ever indulge in it as a
pleasure, for he knew no enjoyment so great as labor. Wordsworth's
"wise passiveness" was utterly foreign to his nature. Had he been a
mere student, this had been less destructive. But to take the standard
of study of a German Professor, and superadd to that the separate
exhaustions of a Sunday-preacher, a lyceum-lecturer, a radical leader,
and a practical philanthropist, was simply to apply half a dozen
distinct suicides to the abbreviation of a single life. And, as his
younger companions long since assured him, the tendency of his career
was not only to kill himself, but them; for each assumed that he must
at least attempt what Theodore Parker accomplished.

It is very certain that his career was much shortened by these
enormous labors, and it is not certain that its value was increased in
a sufficient ratio to compensate for that evil. He justified his
incessant winter-lecturing by the fact that the whole country was his
parish, though this was not an adequate excuse. But what right had he
to deprive himself even of the accustomed summer respite of ordinary
preachers, and waste the golden July hours in studying Sclavonic
dialects? No doubt his work in the world was greatly aided both by the
fact and the fame of learning, and, as he himself somewhat
disdainfully said, the knowledge of Greek and Hebrew was "a
convenience" in theological discussions; but, after all, his popular
power did not mainly depend on his mastery of twenty languages, but of
one. Theodore Parker's learning was undoubtedly a valuable possession
to the community, but it was not worth the price of Theodore Parker's
life.

"Strive constantly to concentrate yourself," said the laborious
Goethe, "never dissipate your powers; incessant activity, of whatever
kind, leads finally to bankruptcy." But Theodore Parker's whole
endeavor was to multiply his channels, and he exhausted his life in
the effort to do all men's work. He was a hard man to relieve, to
help, or to cooperate with. Thus, the "Massachusetts Quarterly Review"
began with quite a promising corps of contributors; but when it
appeared that its editor, if left alone, would willingly undertake all
the articles,--science, history, literature, everything,--of course
the o