HE was still determined to be a scholar. He knew that he
could not be a power for good unless he had both knowledge
and wisdom, and when he wrote that tribute to Doctor
Channing he described the ideal minister as master of the
greatest subjects of human thought, familiar with history
and philosophy and poetry, understanding the nature of
man and of society. He remembered well that his teachers
in the Divinity School had prophesied for him a career of
scholarship, and he had already done something to justify
that prophecy. But so many of the young theologians from
Cambridge had embarked hopefully upon the seas of learn-
ing only to founder: some chose the softer ways and were
becalmed in the Sargasso Sea; some went adrift on the rocks
of controversy; some were driven far off their course by
trade winds. How few there were who held steadily to their
chosen ways: you could count on the fingers of one hand
the real scholars among the Unitarians; and they had al-
ways been so proud of their scholarship, too, looking down
their noses at the plebeian denominations. There was Doc-
tor Francis, of course; and Noyes, and Lamson, and Fur-
ness down in Philadelphia, and Hedge in Providence. But
who else was there? Andrews Norton had shot his bolt,
such as it was, and nothing more could be expected of him;
Palfrey had abandoned his Jewish Antiquities for the more
glittering rewards of politics; Frothingham and Gannett,
trained to exact scholarship, were hedged in by their theo-
logical preconceptions, lacked boldness of thought and of
inquiry; Bellows, who had great gifts, was really but a

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