Speeches, Addresses, and Occasional Sermons, Volume 1 (of 3)Parker, Theodore
Religion
Speeches, Addresses, and Occasional Sermons, Volume 1 (of 3)
Parker, Theodore
Sermons, American; Unitarianism
What have these abandoned children to help them? Nothing, literally
nothing! They are idle, though their bodies crave activity. They are
poor, ill-clad, and ill-fed. There is nothing about them to foster
self-respect; nothing to call forth their conscience, to awaken and
cultivate their sense of religion. They find themselves beggars in the
wealth of a city; idlers in the midst of its work. Yes, savages in the
midst of civilization. Their consciousness is that of an outcast, one
abandoned and forsaken of men. In cities, life is intense amongst all
classes. So the passions and appetites of such children are strong and
violent. Their taste is low; their wants clamorous. Are religion and
conscience there to abate the fever of passion and regulate desire? The
moral class and the cultivated shun these poor wretches, or look on with
stupid wonder. Our rule is that the whole need the physician, not the
sick. They are left almost entirely to herd and consort with the basest
of men; they are exposed early and late to the worst influences, and
their only comrades are men whom the children of the rich are taught to
shun as the pestilence. To be poor is hard enough in the country, where
artificial wants are few, and those easily met, where all classes are
humbly clad, and none fare sumptuously every day. But to be poor in the
city, where a hundred artificial desires daily claim satisfaction, and
where, too, it is difficult for the poor to satisfy the natural and
unavoidable wants of food and raiment; to be hungry, ragged, dirty, amid
luxury, wantonness and refinement; to be miserable in the midst of
abundance, that is hard beyond all power of speech. Look, I will not say
at the squalid dress of these children, as you see them prowling about
the markets and wharves, or contending in the dirty lanes and by-places
into which the pride of Boston has elbowed so much of her misery; look
at their faces! Haggard as they are, meagre and pale and wan, want is
not the worst thing written there, but cunning, fraud, violence and
obscenity, and worst of all, fear!
Amid all the science and refined culture of the nineteenth century,
these children learn little; little that is good, much that is bad. In
the intense life around them, they unavoidably become vicious, obscene,
deceitful and violent. They will lie, steal, be drunk. How can it be
otherwise?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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