Introduction
Few people would dispute that, historically, humanity has instinctively relied upon logic and emotion to chart the course of our lives, both personally and corporately. As thinking beings, we wrestle and ruminate with all that is observable, tangible, and impactful—embracing the moments and meanings that enrich our existence, but often desperately expulsing (mentally, physically, or spiritually) that which spawns sorrow or suffering in our journey through life. As Huxley remarks, “The world is neither wise nor just, but it makes up for all its folly and injustice by being damnably sentimental.”[1]
From the first book of the Bible (Genesis), when God’s creation (Adam) experienced loneliness (Gen 2:18–22, NASB)[2] to its last book of Revelation, where God “will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain” (Rev 21:4), feelings are both a descriptor and motivator in human interactions. It is not inconceivable, then, that (fearing for his safety) Abraham pretended that his wife (Sarah) was his sister (Gen 12:10–20); that (ashamed of his deed) Moses hid the body of the Egyptian he murdered in the sand (Exo 2:11–13); that King David danced joyfully before the Ark of the Covenant returning to Jerusalem (2 Sam 6:14–22); that Elijah fell into a depressed stupor from the vicious threats of wicked Jezebel (1 Kings 19:4–14); that the prophet Jeremiah wept for the people of Judah in their rebellion (Jer 4:19—6:14); that monstrous King Herod ordered his soldiers to slaughter all the toddler boys around Bethlehem who he thought were a threat to his throne (Matthew 1:16–18); that the apostle James admonished all his Jewish brethren in Christ to be joyful in their troubles useful for their sanctification (James 1:2–4); that the apostle Paul encouraged the church in Philippi (despite Paul’s being imprisoned) to rejoice in Christ and to fix their emotions upon good, true, and excellent things (Phil 4:4–9). Many more biblical examples can be easily found.
Moreover, the sentimentalism of humanity is equally evident in all the world’s subcultures and dramatic tales throughout the ages. In The Iliad, written in eighth-century Greece (BCE), Homer writes, “Forged on the eternal anvils of the god. Grief and revenge his furious heart inspire, His glowing eyeballs roll with living fire; He grinds his teeth, and furious with delay O'erlooks the embattled host, and hopes the bloody day.”[3] In Suentonius’s The Lives of the Twelve Caesars (published in 121 CE), speaking of the despotic Roman Emperor Caligula, the author writes, “Even in those days, his cruel and vicious character was beyond his control, and he was an eager spectator of torture and executions meted out in punishment.”[4]
Not just a pagan or Greco-Roman phenomenon, sentimentalism is evident even within the Christian church in Europe. In the fourth-century CE, Saint Augustine confesses, “You only love your friend truly, after all, when you love God in your friend, either because he is in him, or in order that he may be in him. That is true love and respect. There is no true friendship unless You weld it between souls that cling together by the charity poured forth in their hearts by the Holy Spirit.”[5] In sixteenth-century Germany, the great reformer Martin Luther admits,
I thought to myself, “With what tongue shall I address such Majesty, seeing that all men ought to tremble in the presence of even an earthly prince? Who am I, that I should lift up mine eyes or raise my hands to the divine Majesty? The angels surround him. At his nod the earth trembles. And shall I, a miserable little pygmy, say ‘I want this, I ask for that’? For I am dust and ashes and full of sin and I am speaking to the living, eternal and the true God.”[6]
In the eighteenth-century, French Chevalier d’Aiguebelle states, “How long shall I continue to flatter myself with the fond hope of finding perfect ease and tranquility, for a soul suffering under the heaviest load of anxiety and distress! False, empty pleasures! Shall I always call on you in vain, to soothe the cruel agitations of a heart never satisfied, never at rest! Alas!”[7]—and on and on it goes.
Thus, for better or worse, rationality and sentimentality are quintessential juxtapositions of the human experience. As De Jong notes, “Defining sentimental affect in its interpersonal and social expressions . . . is no simple matter.”[8]Hendler adds, “Sometimes understood as a genre of writing or an affective mode, sometimes seen as a rhetorical strategy for movements such as abolitionism, as a structure of feeling, or as a cultural formation, always viewed as a technology for racialization and the management of other forms of difference such as gender and sexuality, sentimentalism is now a well-established keyword for the study of American cultures.”[9]
Sentiments—feelings or opinions, often being experientially based and thus very subjective, can easily lead to ideological and political leanings. As D'Arms and Jacobson suggest, “We hold that the sentimental values routinely conflict with one another and with other values, including the demands of morality and virtue. Nevertheless, reasons to feel and to act arise from these values. Fitting emotions and motives can conflict with virtuous feeling and action, and they impose limits on the hegemonic ambitions of morality.”[10] Although embedded in the human psyche created by God and often beneficent and healing, sentimentalism can also be observed to have a divisive, toxic effect upon those who express and experience it.
With the aforementioned in mind, this essay examines the “sentimental theology” prevalent within Christian culture, specifically focusing upon the Quakers of England and America from the seventeenth century through the twentieth century. Pointing to assorted primary texts by prominent Quakers in each century (along with contemporary scholarly discussion to augment historical analysis), this essay will provide evidence of the enmeshment of sentimentalism within the theology of mainstream Quakerism after its inception in the mid-seventeenth century (and in the divergent branches that followed). Finally, this essay will discuss both healthier and more toxic qualities that have historically accompanied this particular sentimental approach to the Christian faith.
What is Sentimental Theology?
As mentioned earlier regarding the biblical texts, all humans manifest their emotions and sentiments in various ways, at various times, and for various reasons. As Plutchik notes,
An emotion is not simply a feeling state. Emotion is a complex chain of loosely connected events that begins with a stimulus and includes feelings, psychological changes, impulses to action and specific, goal-directed behavior. That is to say, feelings do not happen in isolation. They are responses to significant situations in an individual's life, and often they motivate actions.[11]
Thus, sentimentalism—having or expressing strong feelings (either positive or negative)—is ubiquitous in the historical timeline and evident, individually and collectively.
As a persistent historical phenomenon, sentimental theology is the study of God and religious beliefs through the lens of emotion, nostalgia, and utopianism, a wistful longing for spiritual things that are not as they once were—or should be—as in earlier days of the Christian faith. It was (and still is) not inherently bad nor good but has the potential for creating or causing social situations across the spectrum, either intentionally or by accident.
Such realities are observable in many groups, including religious associations such as the Catholics, Lutherans, Puritans, Pietists, and the like, on account of the intensity of their spiritual tenets. Ultimately, though, because it mattered so much, these religious adherents felt so much. Yet, perhaps due to their proud embrace of experientialism, no other religious community incorporated sentimentalism into their faith more than the Quakers. Beginning with their genesis in the seventeenth century and continuing through the successive waves and cultural shifts that followed in the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, the three aforementioned manifestations of sentimental theology—namely, emotion, nostalgia, and utopianism—can be clearly perceived in the writings of numerous Quaker leaders and the assorted Quaker deliberating bodies that arose to clarify their convictions and to define their doctrines throughout the centuries, highlights of which will be presented in the pages to follow.
Emotion
Perhaps setting the precedent for those who joined him in his emotional pursuit of a pure path to spiritual connection with God,[12] George Fox (1624–1691) undertook a very personal and poignant journey to find God. Despite his earlier youthful maturity, in adulthood Fox became frustrated and downhearted in adulthood with the empty, soul-less offerings of the Church of England (and the Puritans). In his journal, he writes, “Now during the time that I was at Barnet, a strong temptation to despair came upon me. Then I saw how Christ was tempted, and mighty troubles I was in; sometimes I kept myself retired in my chamber, and often walked solitary in the chace, to wait upon the Lord.”[13]
Yet, Fox eventually found peace and purpose in life. Enthusiastically declaring his sentiments, Fox later states, “And when all my hopes in them and in all men were gone, so that I had nothing outwardly to help me, nor could I tell what to do; then, oh then I heard a voice which said, ‘There is one, even Christ Jesus, that can speak to thy condition’: and when I heard it, my heart did leap for joy.”[14]
This emotional enthusiasm was not reserved for Fox alone. Once of his first converts (and a pillar of the early Quaker movement), Margaret Fell (1614–1702), has been called, “The Mother of Quakerism.” According to Quaker historian Williams, “She beautifully mothered and advised the young Christian workers and, through correspondence, kept informed as to developments of Friends groups in various parts of England and of the world.”[15]
Referring to her newfound dedication to the Lord, Fell shares, “This opened me so, that it cut me to the heart; and then I saw clearly, we were all wrong. So, I sat down in my pew again, and cried bitterly. And I cried in my spirit to the Lord, “We are all thieves, we are all thieves; we have taken the Scriptures in words and know nothing of them in ourselves.”[16]
Later, writing on the role and importance of women in Jesus’s ministry, she writes, “Thus we see that Jesus owned the love and grace that appeared in women, and did not despise it; and by what is recorded in the Scriptures, he received as much love, kindness, compassion, and tender dealing towards him from women, as he did from any others, both in his lifetime, and also after they had exercised their cruelty upon him.[17]
In later years, others shared of their own sentimental journeys. Standing firm despite the scrutiny that she had to endure under the Catholic inquisition at Malta, Katharine Evans (1618–1692) confesses,
The last day of my fast I began to be a hungry, but was afraid to eat, the enemy was so strong; but the Lord said unto me, “If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink, in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head; be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.” I did eat, and was refreshed, and glorified God; and in the midst of our extremity the Lord sent his holy angels to comfort us, so that we rejoiced and magnified God; and in the time of our great trial, the sun and earth did mourn visibly three days, and the horror of death and the pains of hell was upon me.[18]
Eventually martyred for his Quaker faith under the governance of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, William Robinson also testified (before his death), “For the Lord had said unto me, ‘Thy soul shall rest in everlasting peace, and thy life shall enter into rest, for being obedient to the God of thy life’; I being a child, and durst not question the Lord in the least, but rather willing to lay down my life than to bring dishonour to the Lord.”[19]
Emotions and sentimentalism were demonstrably a part of the first wave of Quakers, but they were also observable in the testimonies of those who followed in successive generations, regardless of their theological bents. For instance, unorthodox Quaker traveling minister Elias Hicks (1748–1830) states,
But as man’s fall principally consists in his turning from his inward spiritual guide, to the direction of his outward senses and animal passions and affections, so [man having so far departed] that he lost almost all right knowledge of this inward guide, the Lord in mercy dispensed to him divers outward manifestations, as a means to lead his attention back to his spiritual guide.[20]
Pushing back against schismatic elements that fringe Quaker leaders like Hicks and George Keith (1638–1716) promoted in America, English Banker and evangelical minister Joseph John Gurney (1788–1847) proclaims,
The true Christian is happy far above all other persons, for various reasons:—because, though his sins have been many, he is reconciled to the Father, through the mediation of the Son; because, notwithstanding his natural weakness, he is enabled to walk in the way of righteousness, by the power of the Holy Spirit; because a sense of the divine love and approbation dwells in his heart; because he is taught to regard every tribulation as a moral discipline directed to greater good; and, lastly, because he is animated by the expectation of a future joy, perfectly unsullied in its nature, and eternal in its duration.[21]
Gurney also concludes, “Christianity procures for mankind a pure and substantial happiness.”[22]
Separatist, conservative Quaker minister John Wilbur (1774–1856) emphasizes, “Again how the fear of man, the love of ease, and the dread of conflict and controversy, unhappily induced the primitive Christians to jeopard the standing and safety of the church.”[23]
Later on, Quaker minister and abolitionist David Updegraff (1789–1864) states,
His omnipresence was something wonderful to my opening eyes. And he was there, to “war against the law of my mind” with a resolute purpose to “bring me into captivity to the law of sin.” If he succeeded, even partially, I was humbled and grieved, and if he did not succeed, I was in distress with fear lest he might. Some special incidents were greatly blessed to me. I began to see quite clearly that the “law was weak through the flesh.” I hated pride, ambition, evil tempers, and vain thoughts, but I had them, and they were a part of me.[24]
Such emotionality continued into the twentieth century, with lay speaker and Suffragette Hannah Whitall Smith (1832–1911) stating,
Without that charity which can mutually bear and forbear, which can suffer long and be kind, which can believe all things, hope all things, endure all things; which is broad enough to see a possible good in the views and methods of others, even when they differ from our own, and which can feel the unity of the spirit in the midst of diversities of gifts; without in short the love of Christ thus shed abroad in our hearts and acted out in our lives, church fellowship is an impossibility, and schism is the inevitable result.[25]
Rather than stoically expressing their personal faith, Quaker testimonies, through the centuries, show their clear and consistent willingness to engage with their authentic feelings during their trials, tribulations, and their triumphs. Like Jesus, “deeply moved in spirit and troubled,” weeping as He approached the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:33–38), they felt licensed to respond, sentimentally.
Nostalgia
It has been said that tradition draws people into community, which is a reasonable appraisal, especially considering the hostile, dramatic religious culture of England and America in the days of primitive Quakerism. As Sremac and Van Liere note, “Nostalgic sentiments can be activated around current cultural and political representations of what once was, presenting that past as a recurrent trauma that should be dealt with in the present.”[26] Like other Dissenters and innovators of the age, many Quakers expressed discontentment in the religiosity that surrounded them and harkened back to an earlier age (or state) that they perceived to be healthier and holier.
For instance, Quaker founder Fox reminisces, “When I came to eleven years of age, I knew pureness and righteousness; for while a child I was taught how to walk to be kept pure. The Lord taught me to be faithful in all things, and to act faithfully two ways, viz., inwardly to God, and outwardly to man; and to keep to Yea and Nay in all things.”[27]
Demonstrating a sentiment akin to Fox’s previous youthful homage, David Updegraff (1789–1864) states, “Precious is the memory of those days of childish innocence, and mother love, when home and heaven seemed almost interchangeable terms. My young heart was not a stranger to the gracious visitations of the Spirit of God and was often melted under the power of His love.”[28]
Nearly a century later, itinerate unorthodox Quaker minister Elias Hicks cynically asserts,
And among other subjects, I have been led, I trust, carefully and candidly, to investigate the effects produced by the book called the Scriptures since it has borne that appellation; and it appears, from a comparative view, to have been the cause of four-fold more harm than good to Christendom, since the apostles’ days, and which, I think, must be indubitably plain to every faithful, honest mind, that has investigated her history free from the undue bias of education and tradition. Mark the beginning of the apostacy.[29]
Taking a more approving stance while looking to the ancient past, orthodox banker and Quaker minister Joseph John Gurney states,
That the principal writings of which the New Testament consists are genuine—that they were written in the apostolic age, and by the individuals with whose names they are inscribed—is a point evinced to be true by a greater variety and quantity of evidence, than has probably ever been brought to bear on a similar subject.[30]
Ostensibly trying to find middle ground, Separatist John Wilbur appeals to Quaker posterity, stating,
This was the case both in the primitive times and in the days of George Fox and his contemporaries; causing great contention and controversy, at each of those periods, though we know most in relation to the latter. And our early Friends, honestly and manfully met and rebutted every attack upon the true doctrines of the gospel, in due season, and without fear of consequences.[31]
Echoing Hicks’ critical attitude concerning ecclesiastical abuses, Suffragette Hannah Whitall Smith states,
But the views of different workers as to how this revival is to be accomplished are so diverse, that in many places the church, instead of presenting a common front against its enemies without, is divided against itself without, and workers are using a large part of their energies and zeal in combating one another, and in opposing one another’s efforts to advance the cause so dear to both. This has always been the case in the church but none the less is it wrong, and contrary to the spirit of Christ. Our Lord himself had to meet it when he was on the earth, and the way in which he rebuked it then will teach us, if we have ears to hear, how we ought to regard it now.[32]
The heart-felt testimonies demonstrate the timeless, constant yearnings within the Quaker movement to return to better, older days, by people—in every century since its founding—struggling in their faith and culture. However, Smith’s admonition and charge for her contemporary Quaker peers is a powerful example of how sentimental nostalgia acts as a catalyst for change.
Utopianism
As mentioned previously, sentimental feelings of Christian nostalgia only highlighted more brightly (or darkly) how off-note many Quakers felt their faith communities to be, historically. Sayers notes, “This intuitive tension between nostalgia and utopia arises out of a deep-rooted sense that utopia’s proper orientation is towards the future, whereas nostalgia is stuck in the past.”[33] Thus, Quakerism’s manifestation of sentimental theology also points to better times ahead for its ultimate spiritual presence and perfected practice.
For example, pointing to the profoundly transcendent truth of God’s interaction with humanity, Quaker founder Fox states,
But the Lord showed me clearly, that He did not dwell in these temples which men had commanded and set up, but in people’s hearts: for both Stephen and the apostle Paul bore testimony, that He did not dwell in temples made with hands, not even in that which he had once commanded to be built, since he put an end to it; but that his people were his temple, and he dwelt in them.[34]
Around the same time, early Quaker leader and member of the Valiant Sixty,[35] James Nayler (1618–1660) states,
And thus the lamb in them, and they in him, go out in judgment and righteousness . . . to prevail to recover the creature and stay the enmity, by suffering all the rage, and envy, and evil entreatings, that the evil spirit that rules in the creature can cast upon him, and he receives it all with meekness, and pity to the creature, returning love for hatred, wrestling with God against the enmity, with prayers and tears night and day, with fasting, mourning and lamentation, in patience, in faithfulness, in truth, in love unfeigned, in long suffering, and in all the fruits of the spirit.[36]
Scottish Quaker and Governor of the East Jersey colony Robert Barclay (1648–1690) proclaims,
God hath communicated and given unto every man a measure of the light a measure of his own Son, a measure of grace, or a measure of the Spirit, which the scripture expresses by several names, as sometimes of the seed of the kingdom . . . the light that makes all things manifest . . . the Word of God . . . or manifestation of the Spirit given to profit withal . . . That God, in and by this Light and Seed, invites, calls, exhorts, and strives with every man, in order to save him, which, as it is received, and not wrought resisted, works the salvation of all, even of those who are ignorant of the death and sufferings of Christ, and of Adam’s fall, both by bringing them to a sense of their own misery.[37]
Speaking in yet another doctrinal debate, itinerate unorthodox Quaker minister Elias Hicks states,
But my views respecting the Scriptures are not altered, although thus abused by others, and trust I shall, as I heretofore have done, as my mind is opened to it, call upon them as evidence to the truth of inspiration; and to show that the upright and faithful in former ages, were led and instructed by the same spirit as those in the present day; and that the Lord is graciously willing to reveal himself as fully to the children of men in this day as in any day of the world, without respect of persons, as each is attentive to his inward and spiritual manifestations.[38]
Orthodox banker and Quaker minister Joseph John Gurney reiterates, “As we obtain reconciliation with the Father, through the sacrifice of Christ, let us ever remember that we can be brought into a state of true holiness, and avail ourselves of that reconciliation, only by a full submission to the influence and guidance of his Spirit.”[39]
At the Waterloo Yearly Meeting of Congregational Friends (1852), it was recorded:
Liberty of conscience, then—the recognition of the right of every member to act in obedience to the evidence of Divine Light, in its present and progressive unfoldings of truth and duty to the mind, must be a fundamental principle in every right organization. That this perfect liberty of conscience, is the right of every sane and accountable human being, appears from several other considerations.[40]
Describing the absoluteness of his own transformation, Quaker minister and abolitionist David Updegraff testifies,
Instantly, I felt the melting and refining fire of God permeate my whole being. Conflict was a thing of the past. I had entered into “rest.” I was nothing and nobody, and glad that it was settled that way. It was a luxury to get rid of ambitions. The glory of the Lord shone round about me, and, for a little season, I was “lost in wonder, love and praise.” I was deeply conscious of the presence of God within me, and of His sanctifying work. Nothing seemed so sweet as His will, His law written in the heart after the chaff had been burned out. It was no effort to realize that I loved the Lord with all my heart, and mind, and strength, and my neighbor as myself. My calmness and absolute repose in God was a wonder to me. But I cannot describe it all. It was a “weight of glory.”[41]
Speaking of the Quakers’ sense of an actualized, holistic transformation, Quaker historian Williams writes,
The great doctrine at the root of all others which Friends preached, was that of the immediate and discernible guidance of the Holy Spirit. They had sought the truth, and found it. They had experienced the work of the Spirit within, the Light within (as they frequently expressed it), revealing sin, forgiving, transforming. They had met the Sovereign Lord of the universe, and made their peace with Him. Consequently, theirs was a message of abounding hope. Joy welled up in their yielded hearts, a joy for which many about them yearned but did not know.[42]
Accordingly, the utopianism of the Quakers’ sentimental theology is evidenced through its adherents’ faith in the coming (or already realized) existence in which perfection reigns in themselves and society through the power of God and full submission of His true believers.
Conclusion
Reading through the annals of time, it is patently clear that all people feel strong emotions that influence or direct their responses in their social situations and to those surrounding them (including God). Despite any superior airs of rationality or intellectualism, sentimentality is another inherent phenomenon of the human condition. Across all time periods, cultures, regions, genders, or age, to be human is to be sentimental.
Historically, this has also been true regarding the religious interactions of people (in all expressions or denominations) throughout the millennia. Although such sentimentalism is evident in the storylines of all faith groups, this discussion has focused primarily on the Quaker movement due to its experiential approach to faith leading inexorably to a sentimental theology. This sentimental theology can be expressed in various ways, but for the Quakers, it seems to be regularly manifested in a theology centered around emotion, nostalgia, and utopianism.
As with all ideologies, sentimentality is not intrinsically bad nor toxic. Its value or reverberations depends upon how well it is wielded or applied. The positive side of sentimentalism might be seen in one’s emotional maturity, honoring of the past and people, or one’s striving to be more like Jesus in attitude and action. As 1 Peter 2:1–3 admonishes, “Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.” When Quakers did this, they prospered and grew—just as Lutheran theologian and educator Rupertus Meldenius advocated: “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity”[43]
Yet, sentimentalism can quickly devolve into darkness and factionalism if one caves to emotional instability, a callous heart, and rationalizes myopic egotistic interpretations. The story of King Saul’s jealousy of David in 1 Samuel 18 comes to mind:
The women sang as they played, and said, “Saul has slain his thousands, And David his ten thousands.” Then Saul became very angry, for this lyric displeased him; and he said, “They have given David credit for ten thousands, but to me they have given credit for only thousands! Now what more can he have but the kingdom?” And Saul eyed David with suspicion from that day on.
As Mark Ross warns, “Those who are united by faith in Christ are thereby united to one another in the church, the body of Christ . . . But the manifestation of that unity is not always apparent. Christians can display ugly divisions between one another, as at the church of Corinth (1:10–17)”[44] The various Quaker schisms (such as the Orthodox/Hicksite break) sadly affirm this reality.
Ultimately, any theology that is more anthropomorphic than theocentric is bound to encounter or generate problems. The Psalmist says it well: “Turn my eyes away from looking at what is worthless, and revive me in Your ways” (Ps 119:37). This plea is only amplified when the layer of sentiment is added to one’s approach. When the religious focus of Quaker leaders shifted historically from God to man, their previous unity and beneficence dissolved into factionalism and judgmentalism, sadly.
This not a surprising consequence, for as Jesus warned in Matthew 6:19–21, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” In the darkest moments of Quakerism, it is historically evident that, in those instances, the original Quaker emphases had been unhealthily replaced with destructive partisan politics or egotistic pragmatism.
Fortunately, as was true in the first believers’ age—and in the era of George Fox, the sentimental theology of God is still true, helpful, and accessible today. Moreover, sentimental theology has been shown to be resonant, reflective, and resilient within the Quaker movement, historically. Hopefully, though, to avoid future unnecessay and unhealthy schisms (as the centuries go on), all Quakers—and all believers—will keep in mind (and heart) the apostle Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3:14–19:
For this reason I bend my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner self, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled to all the fullness of God.”
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[1] Leonard Huxley, Life and Letters of Thomas Henry Huxley (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1901), 128.
[2] Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture is taken from the New American Standard Bible (1995) update.
[3] Alexander Pope, tr., The Iliad of Homer (E-book: Project Gutenberg, 1899), 358.
[4] Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, The Twelve Caesars. A. S. Kline, tr. (E-book: Poetry in Translation, 2010), 284.
[5] Edward Bouverie Pusey, tr., The Confessions (St. Augustine). (E-book: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2016), book 5, v. 19.
[6] Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (Minneapolis: Abindon, 1990), 186.
[7] Lasne de’Aiguebelle. Sentimental and Practical Theology From the French of Le Chevalier De Aiguebelle (London: J. Wilkie, St. Paul’s Church-Yard; T. Davies, Russel Street, Covent Garden; S. Leacroft, Charing Cross, 1777), 1–2.
[8] Mary G. De Jong, ed., Sentimentalism in Nineteenth-Century America: Literary and Cultural Practices (Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2013), 14.
[9] Glenn Hendler, Review of Transamerican Sentimentalism and Nineteenth-Century US Literary History, by Maria A. Windell. Early American Literature 58, no. 1 (2023): 246. https://doi.org/10.1353/eal.2023.0016.
[10] Justin D'Arms and Daniel Jacobson, Rational Sentimentalism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2023), 14.
[11] Robert Plutchik, “The Nature of Emotions,” American Scientist 89, no. 4 (2001): 345–46.
[12] John S. Knox, A Lexicon of Religious Facts & Figures (Dubuque: Kendall-Hunt, 2021), 51–52.
[13] Thomas D. Hamm, Quaker Writings (New York: Penguin, 2010), 15.
[14] George Fox, Journal of George Fox (eBook: Braunfell, 2023), 45.
[15] Walter Williams, The Rich Heritage of Quakerism (e-book: Muriwai, 2018), location 514 of 5366.
[16] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 33.
[17] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 56.
[18] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 40.
[19] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 52.
[20] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 103.
[21] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 106.
[22] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 106.
[23] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 112.
[24] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 138.
[25] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 143.
[26] Lucien van Liere and Srđan Sremac, Trauma and Nostalgia: Practices in Memory and Identity. 1st ed. (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2024), 14.
[27] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 14.
[28] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 137.
[29] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 102.
[30] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 114.
[31] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 114.
[32] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 141.
[33] Nicola Sayers, The Promise of Nostalgia (New York: Routledge, 2020), 6.
[34] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 16.
[35] Williams, Rich Heritage, location 955 of 5366.
[36] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 26.
[37] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 71.
[38] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 104.
[39] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 111.
[40] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 134.
[41] Hamm, Quaker Writings, 139.
[42] Williams, Rich Heritage, location 1219 of 5366.
[43] Frank Cranmer, “The Statement of Principles of Christian Law: A Quaker Perspective,” Ecclesiastical Law Journal 20, no. 3 (2018): 304. DOI:10.1017/S0956618X18000479
[44] Mark Ross, “In Essentials Unity, In Non-Essentials Liberty, In All Things Charity” (2009), online: https://www.ligonier.org/learn/articles/essentials-unity-non-essentials-liberty-all-things.