as it
was in dealing with matters of concrete human interest, seemed to lose
grasp of things viewed purely in the abstract, and positively refused to
work upon questions of grammatical rules and algebraical formulae.' When
they were afterwards fellow-students for a short time in law, Mr. Watson
remarked in Fitzjames a similar impatience of legal technicalities. He
thinks that the less formal system at Oxford might have suited my
brother better. At that time, however, Cambridge was only beginning to
stir in its slumbers. The election of the Prince Consort to the
Chancellorship in 1847 (my brother's first year of residence) had roused
certain grumblings as to the probable 'Germanising' of our ancient
system; and a beginning was made, under Whewell's influence, by the
institution of the 'Moral Sciences' and 'Natural Sciences' Triposes in
1851. The theory was, apparently, that, if you ask questions often
enough, people will learn in time to answer them. But for the present
they were regarded as mere 'fancy' examinations. No rewards were
attainable by success; and the ambitious undergraduates kept to the
ancient paths.

I may as well dispose here of one other topic which seems appropriate to
University days. Fitzjames cared nothing for the athletic sports which
were so effectually popularised soon afterwards in the time of 'Tom
Brown's School Days.' Athletes, indeed, cast longing eyes at his
stalwart figure. One eminent oarsman persuaded my brother to take a seat
in a pair-oared boat, and found that he could hardly hold his own
against the strength of the neophyte. He tried to entice so promising a
recruit by offers of a place in the 'Third Trinity' crew and ultimate
hopes of a 'University Blue.' Fitzjames scorned the dazzling offer. I
remember how Ritson, the landlord at Wastdale Head, who had wrestled
with Christopher North, lamented in after years that Fitzjames had never
entered the ring. He spoke in the spirit of the prize-fighter who said
to Whewell, 'What a man was lost when they made you a parson!' His only
taste of the kind was his hereditary love of walking. His mother
incidentally observes in January 1846, that he has accomplished a walk
of thirty-three miles; and in later days that was a frequent allowance.
Though not a fast walker, he had immense endurance. He made several
Alpine tours, and once (in 1860) he accompanied me in an ascent of the
Jungfrau with a couple of guides. He was fresh from London; we had
pa