s, I take it, the man with an eye for the line of least
resistance. He has an instinct, that is, for the applying his strength
in the direction in which it will tell most. And he has the faculty of
so falling in with other men's modes of thinking and feeling that they
may spontaneously, if unconsciously, form a band of supporters.
Obstacles become stepping-stones to such men. It was Fitzjames's fate
through life to take the bull by the horns; to hew a path through
jungles and up steep places along the steepest and most entangled
routes; and to shoulder his way by main strength and weight through a
crowd, instead of contriving to combine external pressures into an
agency for propulsion. At this time, the contrast between his acceptance
with the ablest of his contemporaries in private and his inability to
obtain the public stamp of merit perplexed and troubled him. Maine and
Thompson could recognise his abilities. Why could not the examiners?
Might not his ambition have to struggle with similar obstacles at the
bar or in the pulpit?

I quote from a letter written by my father during Fitzjames's academical
career to show what was the relation at this time between the two men.
My father dictates to my mother a letter to Fitzjames, dated January 19,
1849.[59] 'You well know,' he says, 'that I have long since surmounted
that paternal ambition which might have led me to thirst for your
eminence as a scholar.

It has not pleased God to give you that kind of bodily constitution and
mental temperament which is essential to such success.' He proceeds to
say that, although success in examinations is 'not essential to the
great ends of Fitzjames's existence, it is yet very desirable that he
should become a good scholar from higher motives--such,' he adds, 'as
are expounded in Bacon's "De Augmentis."' He solemnly recommends regular
prayer for guidance in studies for which the lower motives may be
insufficient. It then occurs to my mother that the advice may be a
little discouraging. 'I am reminded by my amanuensis that I have left
you in the dark as to my opinion of your probable success in the
literary labours to which I have exhorted you. You must be a very mole
if the darkness be real. From your childhood to this day I have ever
shown you by more than words how high an estimate I entertain both of
the depth and the breadth of your capacity. I have ever conversed with
you as with a man, not as with a child; and though parental par