18 Cornwall Terrace.
My dearest Mother,—Your letter of surprise and rejoicing has been to me one of the best parts of the result. All the letters of congratulation which are now coming in mention you: 'How delighted your mother will be,' &c.; and it is a great thing for me to find that you are so. Without appreciative sympathy success soon palls; but the two combined go to make up the best happiness.
I went to Cambridge yesterday to get the manuscript, and as there happened to be a congregation in the afternoon, I also took my degree. I saw all my friends, who were overflowing with delight. Indeed, I never before realised how great the competition is, for I never had an opportunity of knowing how the successful man is lionised. The Caius dons especially are up in the air about it, as this is the first time in the history of the college that one of its members has got the Burney; so that, as Ferrers writes to me, 'when the same year produces a Senior Wrangler and a Burney Prizeman, the college may be said to be looking up.' I was invited to breakfast with the Professor of Divinity (who is the principal adjudicator), and I found him very pleasant indeed. Afterwards I went to the Vice-Chancellor, from whom I got the well-remembered 'pages' (but now with Prize I. written across them); and lastly, to the third adjudicator, the master of Christ's. They all said more in praise of the essay than I would care to repeat, but, to tell you the simple truth, I was perfectly astonished. For example, 'In the history of the Burney Prize there have only been two equals and no superiors.'
The Vice-Chancellor told me that there was another essay well deserving of a prize which was written by a man of whom I dare say you will remember I said I was most afraid, viz., Mr. ——. I knew him very well when we were undergraduates, and three years ago he obtained the Trinity Scholarship in Philosophy, open to all competitors, and ended up eighteen months ago by graduating as Senior of the Moral Science Tripos. It is a great satisfaction to me that the man who was universally admitted to be the best of the Cambridge metaphysicians should have written, and that, notwithstanding, the decision should have been given unanimously in my favour.
To James Romanes, Esq.
18 Cornwall Terrace: April 24.
My dearest James,—I am sure you will be as much pleased with the result of my labours as I am myself. I remember so well our speculating upon the probable chances of success, and how low we set them down. Had I known for certain that —— was going to compete, I think I should have given up altogether. His essay does seem to have been extraordinarily good, and yet he cannot get a second prize, because the foundation requires that every penny of the interest shall go to the first man. As this seems rather hard lines for ——, I have to-day written to the Divinity Professor offering to share the prize money, on condition that the University recognise —— as a prizeman.
The extraordinary thing about the whole affair is, not so much the award, as the opinion which the adjudicators entertain of the work. I do not know how it is that, stranded on a sandbank and in a half dead-and-alive state, without thinking I was doing anything unusual, I should have written the prize essay. But I don't care how it is so long as it is so, as —— writes, 'You certainly have achieved a great success, handicapped as you were in so many ways.' This, of course, relates to the award; but, as I said before, what surprised me most is that I should not only be first, but such a good first. The praise given by each of the adjudicators separately, in as strong terms as it is possible in donnish phraseology to convey it, was very gratifying to me, especially as pronounced in the studiously dignified manner of the Vice-Chancellor.
I hope soon to see you and tell you more about the whole thing; for one of the best parts of it is, that 'if one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it.'
Ever your loving Brother,