^5 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, v 



Do you understand this ? I know you do ; our old oneness of 

 feeling will not desert us here. . . . 



To-day a most unexpected occurrence came to my know- 

 ledge. I must tell you that the Queen places at the disposal of 

 the Royal Society once a year a valuable gold medal to be given 

 to the author of the best paper upon either a physical, chemical, 

 or anatomical or physiological subject. One of these branches 

 of science is chosen by the Royal Society for each year, and 

 therefore for any given subject — say anatomy and physiology; 

 it becomes a triennial prize, and is given to the best memoir in 

 the Transactions for three years. 



It happens that the feoyal Medal, as it is called, is this year 

 given in Anatomy and Physiology. I had no idea that I had the 

 least chance of getting it, and made no effort to do so. But I 

 heard this morning from a member of the Council that the 

 award was made yesterday, and that I was within an ace of 

 getting it. Newport, a man of high standing in the scientific 

 world, and myself were the two between whom the choice rested, 

 and eventually it was given to him, on account of his having a 

 greater bulk of matter in his papers, so evenly did the balance 

 swing. Had I only had the least idea that I should be selected 

 they should have had enough and to spare from me. However, 

 I do not grudge Newport his medal ; he is a good and a worthy 

 competitor, old enough to be my father, and has long had a 

 high reputation. Except for its practical value as a means of 

 getting a position I care little enough for the medal. What I 

 do care for is the justification which the being marked in this 

 position gives to the course I have taken. Obstinate and self- 

 willed as I am . . . there are times when grave doubts over- 

 shadow my mind, and then such testimony as this restores my 

 self-confidence. 



To let you know the full force of what I have been saying, 

 I must tell you that this " Royal Medal " is what such men as 

 Owen and Faraday are glad to get, and is indeed one of the 

 highest honours in England. 



To-day I had the great pleasure of meeting my old friend Sir 

 John Richardson (to whom I was mainly indebted for my ap- 

 pointment in the Rattlesnake). Since I left England he has 

 married a third wife, and has taken a hand in joining in search 

 of Franklin (which was more dreadful?), like an old hero as 

 he is; but not a feather of him is altered, and he is as grey, as 

 really kind, and as seemingly abrupt and grim, as ever he was. 

 Such a fine old polar bear ! 



