The Sun.
London, England, 1837-01-14 00:00:00

LORD RECTOR OF GLASGOW UNIVERSITY.

(From the Morning Advertiser.)
GLASGOW, WEDNESDAY EVENING, JAN. 11.
This ceremony took place this day in the Common
Hall of the University, the doors of which were opened
at one o'clock ; the galleries were crowded with those
who were so fortunate as to procure tickets ; one of
them having been appropriated to ladies, and the other
to gentlemen. Shortly after one o'clock the students
were admitted to the Hall, and they amused themselves
until the commencement of the ceremony by yelling
and pelting ea'zh. other with peas ; this responsible
constituency appears to be composed of uncouth-look-
ing urchins, varying in age from 10 to about 15years ;
arid, certr,inly, if we are to draw any conclusion
&OM the exhibition they made to-day, it must be that
propri'atv of demeanour does not form any portion of
the 'University course of study. Shortly after two
o'clock, Sir Robert Peel entered the ball in his robes
of. office, preceded by the Chamberlain of the Univer-
sity, bearing the mace. Sir Robert took his seat at
the head of the table prepared for the occasion, which
was raised upon a stage. At his right sat Mr. Cam.
bell, of Blytheswood, the p.
' Dean of Faculty
his left, Principal M'Earlane ; at
each side of the
table were placed the Professors of the University. In
the gallery, generally occupied by the Professors, we
observed Lord Melville, Lord Meadowbank, Sir
William Rae, Sir George Clerk, Sir Archibald Camp-
T
&c. bell,
&c. Lord Justice Clerk, Duncan
APNeill, Esq.,
After the officers of the University were assembled
the Principal pronounced a prayer in Latin, and the
Clerk of the University, Professor Meickleham, read
the minute of the election of Sir Robert Peel, as Lord
Rector. Sir Robert then subscribed the usual oath,
and this portion of the ceremon
r:itnidst loud cheers and partial y having concluded
ni ht disapprobation, the
Hon. Baronet rose, and spoke to the following
effect

" Principal, Professors, and Students—l gladly avail
myself of this opportunity of personally and publicly ex-
pressing the gratification which I derived from my appoint-
ment to the office on the duties of which I have just en-
tered. I might have hesitated voluntarily to present myself
as a candidate for that office, not from unbecoming indif-
ference to the distinction which it confers, but partly from
disinclination to interfere with the pretensions of others,
end reluctance to add to the pressure of those duties which
ill public and private life I am called upon to perform.—
(Cheers.) But when I received the unexpected intelli-
gence that my election had actually taken place—had
taken Place under circumstances which had spared me the
painfulness of voluntary competition, and relieved me al-
together from the anxieties, and, perhaps, asperities, that
are incident to a contest, I required no advice--I asked
for no time to consider—I acted upon the impulse of feel-
ings that were better counsellors than doubt and delibera-
tion; and I resolved at once to justify the generous con-
fidence which had tendered me this high trust, and which
must have anticipated my acceptance of it.—(Loud cheers.)
I do accept it, grateful for the kindness which has conferred
it--(Cheers)—prouci of the relation in which I stand to this
venerable seat of learning—(Cheers)—anxious to discharge
with fidelity and zeal the' duties which that relation
may involve—(Cheers)—and not merely those duties : if I
can extend the sphere of usefulness beyond the proper func-
tions of this office—if there be any other capacity in which
toy services can be made available—they shall be freely
tendered—
(Cheers)—for the promotion of every just and
useful privilege to which the University can lay claim, and
for the promotion and maintenance of its true and perma-
nent interests.—(Loud cheers.) The state of this Uni-
versity and of the other Universities of Scotland has re-
cently undergone visitation and inquiry by a Commission
Which owed its appointment to advice humbly tendered by
me to the Crown.—(Cheers.) Various suggestions have
been offered in the report of that Commission concerning
the revenues, the government, and discipline of the Uni-
versity, and the intervention of Parliament will, I presume,
be . requisite, in order to give effect to such of those
2,'.ll,,ggestions as it shall be thought fitting to adept.—
oluf beers.) You will not expect from me at the very outset
fly connection with the University, the declaration of a
fored and positive opinion upon matters so intimately
affecting its welfare. I should not mark my respect for
you, I should not justify the confidence you have reposed
in me, were I to content myself with merely ascertaining
the prevailing or popular opinion of the day, promising a
blind subscription to it ; or were Ito regard solely temporary
interests, and pledge myself to their exclusive protection.
I shall best maintain the dignity of this office—l shall best
consult your true interest—l shall most certainly secure
your lasting favour, by exercising an impartial independent
judgment—(Loud cheers)—by weighing matuly h sug-
gestion of improvement, and the evidence
orre reasoeac ning by
which it is supported, not merely by regarding the abstract
merits of the isolated proposal, but viewing it by reference
to the whole scheme of academical education in Scotland,
its connection with the means of preliminary instruction
ss-its adaptation to the state of manners and society in
Scotland—its capacity for supplying those acquirements,
and that description of knowledge, which shall best ensure
the success and eminence of those for whom academical in-
struction is intended.—(Cheers.) Be assured, however,
that I shall enter upon the consideration of these important
matters with a strong prepossession that (speaking gene-
rally) the scheme of academical education adopted in the
Universities of Scotland, modified as it gradually has
been, according to the changes in the state of society, and
the new demands for knowledge, is admirably adapted
to the great ends for which ft is desigeed.—(Loud cheers.)
I see in it a scheme in conformity with the suggestion of
14341 Bacon, that makes learning subservient to action—
that UOO3 not at all partake of a professional character—
that embraces all distinctions and classes of society—that
tlualifieB those of the highest rank for the public duties
:"e,Y will have to perform—that offers to men engaged
in base have
and even advanced in life, the opportuuity
otfi ascertaining the progressive discoveries of science, and • e aPPlicability of those discoveries to their respective
cull'eunistanoes that offers also to those whose pecuniary
240 s are the most restricted those benefits of an enlightened
-131:eaa3tsion, and the rewards of literary distinction.--(Cheers.)
the tired that I shall also enter upon the consideration of
lands. niversities
IT ;111 With a firm conviction that the relation in which the
stand towards the Established Church of Scot-
sah,adineoutght to be maintained with scrupulous fidelity. I
he acting in conformity with established usage—l
~.110.11 d still be less acting in union with my own feelings—if
1 did not on this occasion address myself immediately to
ythsess,e, who whoursuing their studies within these walls.
~s let me,have not survived
feelings my sympathies with the
,and aspirations of academic youth—who have drunk
fro
thtimrsttfhoer ska
iTo.evviPeucise springs from which. you are allaying the
la ion, and goe-who have felt the glow of your emu-
let nle, after
teionpanted, like you, for academic distinction—
"id buffeted b 'g engaged in the active scenes of public life,
estimony
bring the livin3 the
storms and contentions of party—let_me
the
.truth of rho-
which of practical experience to confirm
se precepts—to enforce these exhortations. You hear from the higher authority of the distinguished
Theo of whom your instruction is the immediate province.---(Cheers.)
with all the earnest-
and peculiar
toss of the deepest Let me assure you wit
of observation whi "avicticn'
with the
founded on the opportunities
World, have
afforded eh public life, and intercourse .
ence,
YOUr happi , that your success, your ace dents
4" oaPri mess, are much more independent of the acci en
ittreta ~es of fortune, infinitely more within your own
-verse The h'e'iball they appear to be to observers.—(Cheers.)
be 3,8011:fore you a boundless field of exertion. What-
May choose, suit, whatever be the profession which you
you, or at least- are
to honourable fame arc may not couarn re obstructed by no barriers of which you
open to
study of the i ma the key—(Loud cheers.) Does the
the 'mew s°.°Fs'Y eri your' •the office of
airs
can q illinist attention—is ry gage your destination—to what nobler
to ehidiel°24(iliedicate your faculties and acquirements than
defend the'e:
fro
great principles of our common faith—to
them on the obriwu the assaults of infidelity—to establish
quirt' Will allow-
toy%authorit on which the spirit of free in-
truth ?—( Loud arez tthe authority of scriptural
content with tnedieer.ontinued cheering.) But be not
has been attained byl Yt:h Aspire to that eminence which
champions, of the Proteset great preachers, the honoured
despair of attaining it ? ITti religion. Why should you
the spirit by which they Warr ng to your sacred functions
stores of professional learnites e animated—lay in the same
same simplicity of style ana os-omrake them available by the
all, enforce the precepts you p of expression. Above
sateby the highest
argument, the pure example
or
Your own lives, and de-
e
spair not of exercising a moral
jeal c
--(Lothey exercised, and founding a reputationmallin g as theirs.llikestnthat which
ud cheering.) In e corn
your station, in the frequent opportunities
fautbority of
lie exertion of your powers, in the eagerness 1. which men
vvitolr th.e pub-
will listen to truths that concern their eternal interests, if
not, with
they be not enforced, as they too frequently are
the same measure of earnestness, of ability, „Id
o'f i
quenee with which their worldly interests are defended (i),-,
these pursuits you will find all that can satisfy the highest
ambition for honourable fame.—(Cheers.)--Is science
your pursuit—the great ocean of truth, to quote the ex-
pression of the illustrious Newton —the great ocean of
truth lies before you. " I do not know," said he, " what I
bmay appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have
een only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, finding some-
times a brighter pebble or a smooer shell an ordinary,
while the great ocean of truth layth all undiscovered d before

me." Every subsequent advance in science served not to
contract the field of inquiry, but to extend it on every
side. It has served, like the telescope, to make us familiar
with objects before imperfectly comprehended ; but has, rt
the same time, by the obscure vision of things unknown—
of relations and dependencies of which we had no concep-
tion—shown us the comparative nothingness of human
knowledge.—(Cheers.)—Are you destined for the legal
profession ? Are you ambitious of distinction in the public
service of your country ? Surely the recent competition
for this office which now entitles me to address you is prq
nant with a signal proof that whatever is the place of your
nativity—whatever be the accidents of your birth—the
highest distinctions are accessible to you all, and that no
national jealousies remain to obstruct your advancement,
or to envy you the possession of it when obtained. There
were two competitors presented for your choice. You
will readily believe that on this occasion I shall
make no remark on any circumstance connected with the re-
cent contest which can, by possibility, revive or excite an an-
gry feeling, or even provoke an expression of dissent. But
there are reflections suggested by that contest which can
afford none, and may serve as an encouragement and sti-
mulus to all. Your choice lay between two, competitors, the
one the son of a minister of the Church of Scotland, the
other the son of an Englishman, founder of his own for-
tunes by dint of those honest and laborious exertions in the
very same pursuit of active industry which are elevating
so many within this great city to affluence and honourable
station.—(Renewed cheers.) The one attains the highest
eminence in the profession of the law—the other was called
by the favour and the confidence of his Sovereign to the
highest trust which a subject can execute—(Great cheers)
—that of administering the government of this great coun-
try.—(Continued cheering.) And mark the signal and gra-
tifying proof of the obliteration of every prejudice con-
nected with the national distinctions or jealousies. The
Scotchman is preferred to his English competitor at the
Bar of England, and receives his honours without a mur-
mur that they are conferred upon a Scotchman. But
though a Scotchman, educated at a Scottish University,
he is not equally successful in a contest for academical dis-
tinction in his own country.—(Loud cheering.) That is
reserved for an Englishman, educated at an English Uni
versity With no other connection with Scotland than tha

of respect for her name and national character, and a cor-
dial interest in her welfare.—(Cheers.) And let me ex-
press a hope that, whatever other objections might apply
to the choice, there was no grudging feeling on account
of this reciprocation of honourable appointments be-
tween the natives of the two countries, and that the cir-
cumstance of my being an Englishman does not operate to
my prejudice even in the eyes of those who would have
preferred, on general grounds, another appointment.—
(Cheers.)—l have said that the field for exertion is bound-
less. I have said the avenues to distinction are few, and
that it is within your power to command an entrance to them.
I repeat, with the earnestness of the deepest conviction,
there is in my mind a presumption amounting almost to a
certainty, that if any one of you will be determined to be
eminent in whatever profession you may choose, and will
act with unvarying steadiness in pursuance of that deter-
mination, you will, if health and strength be given you, in-
infallibly succeed.—(Cheers.)—If what is called genius
shall have been denied to you, you have faculties of the
mind which may be so improved by constant exercise and
vigilance that they shall supply the place of genius, and
open to you brighter prospects of ultimate success than
genius unaided by the same discipline can hope to attain.—
(Cheers.)—There are,. no doubt, original differences in
different minds—in the depth and the quality of the intel-
lectual mine ; but in all ordinary cases the practical success
of the working of that mine depends in by far the greatest
degree upon the care, the labour, the perfection of the ma-
chinery which are applied to it.—(Continued cheering.) Do
I soy that you can command success without difficulty ? No.
Difficulty is the condition of success. " Difficulty is a se-
vere instructor, set over us by the supreme ordinance of a
parental guardian and legislator, who knows us better than
we know ourselves, as he loves us better too. Pater ipse
colendi baud facilem esse viani voluit—he that wrestles
with us strengthens our nerves and sharpens our skill. Our
antagonist is our helper. This amicable conflict with dif-
ficulty obliges us to an intimate acquaintance with one ob-
ject, and compels us to consider it in all its relations. It
will not suffer us to be superficial." These are the me-
morable words of the first of philosophic Statesmen, of the
greatest orator of modern ages, at least if it were allowed
to judge of oratory by the compositions it has bequeathed
to posterity, without reference to the physical qualifications
of the speaker. They are words which, if this office bath
authority in your eves, should have especial weight with
you. Their illustrious author, Mr. Burke, from this place,
on an occasion similar to the present, might have exhorted
the youth of this University by the example of his own
life, as well as by the eloquence of his precepts, to seek
the antagonist which is also our helper. I say, in confor-
mity with this advice, enter then into the amicable conflict
with difficulty--whenever you encounter it turn not aside
—say not there is a lion in your path—resolve upon encoun-
tering and mastering it, and easy successive triumphs will
inspire you with tiat confidence in yourselves, that habit
of victory, that will make future conquests easy. On
by far the greater part of you it is incumbent to acquire
those qualities which shall fit you for action rather than
speculation. It is not, therefore, by mere study, by the
mere accumulation of knowledge, that you can hope for
eminence. Mental discipline, the exercise of the faculties
of the mind, the quickening of your apprehension, the
strengthening of your memory, the forming of a sound,
rapid, and discriminating judgment, are of even more im-
portance than the store of learning. If you will consider
these faculties as the most precious gifts of nature, if you
will be persuaded, as you ought to be, that they are capa-
ble of constant, progressive, and therefore, almost indefi-
nite, improvement—that by acts similar to those by which
magic feats of dexterity and bodily strength are performed,
a capacity for the nobler feats of the mind may be acquired
—the first, the special object of your youth will be to
establish that control over your mind and your own habits
that should ensure the proper cultivation of this precious
inheritance. Try even a short period the enchantment
of exercising such control. If in the course of your study
you meet with difficulty resolve on mastering it ; if you
cannot by your own unaided efforts, be not ashamed to admit

your inability, and seek for assistance.—(Cheers.) Prac-
tice the economy of time—consider time, like the faculties
of your mind, a precious estate—that every moment of it
well applied is put out to an exorbitant interest. Ido not
say devote yourself to unremitting labour, and sacrifice all
amusement, but I do say that the zest of amusement itself,
and the successful result of application, depend in a great
measure upon the economy of time.—(Loud cheers.)
When you have lived fifty years you will have seen many
instances in which the man who finds time for everything,
for punctuality in all the relations of life, for the cultivation
of literature, for every rational amusement, is he who is the
most assiduous in the active pursuits of his profession.—
(Cheers.) Estimate also properly the force of habit. Ex-
ercise a constant, an unremitting, vigilance over the acquire-
ment of habits in matters that are apparently of entire in-
difference, that perhaps are really so, independent of the
habits they engender. ltis by the neglect of such trifles
that bad habits are acquired, and that the mind, by to-
lerating negligence and procrastination in matters of small
account, but of frequent recurrence, in matters of which
the world takes no notice, becomes accustomed to the same
defects in matters of higher importance. If you will snake
the experiment of which I have spoken, that there shall
be a complete understanding of everything you read, or
the honest admission that you do not understand it—that
there shall be a strict regard to the distribution of time—
that there shall be a constant struggle against the bondage
of bad habit, a constant effort which can only be made
within to the master-mind to subject its various processes to
healthful action, the early fruits of this experiment, the
feeling of self-satisfaction, the consciousness of giving
strength, the force of good habit, will be inducements to
its continuance more powerful than any exhortations.—
(Cheers.) These are the arts, this is the patient and labo-
rious process, by which, in all times and in all professions,
the foundations of excellence and of fame have been laid.
Is it possible to consult the works of any man of real emi-
nence, who has left a record of his eminence—who has left
a record of the discipline by which his own mind was
trained—without finding abundant proofs that it was not
by trusting to the inspirations of genius, but by constant per-
severance, and vigilance, and care, that success was obtained.
Reflect on—take as an eminent example of this—the ac-
count which Cicero gives of his own early education—mark
the intentness on one object—mark how every occupation,
amusement, foreign travel, society—the conversation of
the lightest turn—how all were made ancillary to the one
great purpose—of improving the mind, and fitting it for the
highest functions to which its faculties were to be applied.
Speaking of himself, he says :
At vfero ego hoc tempore omni noctes et dies in orn-
nium doctrinarum meditations versabar. Huic ego doctori

et ejus artibus variis atque multis, ita eram dedit—us ut, ab
exereitationibus oratoriis nullus dies vacuus esset.

" Cutn me et amici et medici hortarcntur,ut causasagere
dissisteram, quodvis potius periculum adducendum quam a

sperata dicendi gloriu discedendum putavi.
" Cum vcnissem Athenas, sex menses cum Antiocho, ve-
teris academia 3 nobilissimo et prudentissimo philosopho fui
studiumque philosophise, numquam intermissum, a primaque
adolescentia cultum, et semper auctum, hoc rursus, summo
auctore et doctore, renovavi.
" Postea, a me Asia tota peragrata est cum summis qui-
dem oratoribus, quibuscum exercebar ipsis libentibus. Rho-
veni, meque ad eundem, quern uernßomm audiveram, do
CO
`then such records of perseverance in study and mental
discipline are presented to us they abate our wonder at the
accomplishments and acquirements which were their legiti-
mate result, "It is very natural," says Sir John Reynolds,

THE SUN, LONDON, SATURDAY, .1

it is very natural fOr those who are unacquainted with the
causes of anything extraordinary to be astonished at the
effect, and to account for it as the effect of magic.
The travellers into the East tell us that when the igno-
rant inhabitants of those countries are asked concerning
the ruins of stately edifices yet remaining among them,
the melancholy monuments of their former grandeur and
long-lost science, they always answer that they were
built by magicians. The untaught mind finds a vast gulph
between its own powers and those works of complicated
art which it is utterly unable to fathom, and it supposes
that such. a void can be passed only by supernatural
powers." We have, in the instance of Cicero, the stately
edifice—the monument of intellectual grandeur ; but we
learn from the evidence of the illustrious architect by what
careful process the foundations were securely laid, and the
scaffolding was gradually erected. Our wonder at the per-
fection of the work may be abated, but what can abate our
admiration and respect for the elevated vietvs, the burning
thirst for knowledge and for fame, the noble ambition, which
" scorned delights, and lived laborious days," which en-
graved on his memory the paternal exhortation to the hero
in Homer.:—the noblest, says Dr. Johnson, that can be
found in any Heathen writer,
ALF./ XCLI U7E1p%0% Etttteeval a?..Xwv.

. ,
—(Load cheers.) The name, the authority, the example
of Cicero, conduct me naturally to a topic which I should
be unwilling to pass in silence—l allude to the immense
importance to all who aspire to conspicuous stations in any
department of public or learned professional life, the im-
mense importance of classical acquirements, of the imbuing
your minds with a knowledge of the pure models of anti-
quity, and a taste for their constant study and cultivation.
Do not disregard the admonition from the impression that
it proceeds from the natural prejudices in favour of classica
learning which education 'at an English University may un_
consciously instil, or that it is offered presumptuously by one
ignorant of that description of knowledge which is best
adapted to the habits and occupations of society in Scotland. I
want to impress on your mind that a wider horizon than
that of Scotland is open to you ; that you are candidates,
starting with equal advantage, for every prize of profit or
distinction which the wide circle of the empire, extended
through every quarter of the globe, can include. Bear in
mind, too, that every improvement in the means of commu-

nication between distant parts of that empire is opening a
new avenue to fame, particularly to those who arc remote
from the seat of Government. This is not the place where
injustice should be done to that mighty discovery which is
effecting a daily change in the pre-existing relations of so-
ciety. This is not the place where a false and injurious esti-'
mate should be .made of the speculations of Black, and the
inventive genius of Watt.—(Cheers.) The steam-engine and
the railroad are not merely facilitating the transport of mer-
chandise, they are not merely shortening the duration of
journeys, or administering to the supply of physical wants ;
they are speeding the intercourse between mind and mind ;
they are creating new demands for knowledge ; they are
fertilizing thet intellectual as \y ell as the material waste ;
they are removing the impediments which obscurity, or re-
moteness, or poverty, may have heretofore opposed to the
emeiging of real merit.—(Cheers.) They are supplying you
in the mere facility of locomotion with a new motive for
classical study ; they are enabling you, with comparative
ease, to enjoy that pure and refined pleasure which
makes the past predominate over the present, when
we contemplate the localities where the illustrious deeds
of ancient times have been performed, and the monuments
that are associated with names and actions that never can
perish.—(Loud cheers.) They arc enabling au no taste
the intoxicating draught that is described with such noble
enthusiasm by Gibbon :—" At the distance of twenty-five
years I can neither forget nor express the strong emotions
which agitated my mind as I first approached and entered
the eternal city. After a sleepless night I strode, I trod,
with a lofty step, the ruins of the Forum, each memorable
spot where Romulus stood, or Tully spoke, or Caesar fell,
was at once present to my eye, and several days of intoxi-
cation were lost or enjoyed before I could descend to a cool
or minute investigation."—(Loud cheering.) I need not
remind you of the earnest and eloquent exhortation to the
study of ancient, and particularly of attic, composition,
which have been delivered from this seat. I need not re-
mind you of the manifold facilities which that study affords
you in the comprehension of the structure of modern lan-
guages, and the formation of style on the purest models, or
bow indispensable it is to the understanding of a thousand
allusions to the usages and expressions of classical antiquity
which are scattered with happy prodigality through some of
the finest of modern compositions—allusions ,t)wyavVa.
c-:;•/E-ros 71.1 that have a voice for those, but for those alone,
that have been initiated in these delighful mysteries.—
(Cheers.) Let me, however, attempt to bring from the
examples of public life a practical confirmation of the truth
of these maxims, and the wisdom of this exhortation. I
ask you simply to pass in succession the names of those
who have stood most conspicuous in the great arena of
competition, and to compare the proportion borne to the
total nuniber by those who have been eminent for classical
acquirements. I purposely exclude the remoter periods of
our history, pregnant as they are with examples in favour
of the position I maintain, because when education was in
a great degree confined to classical learning, the possession
of it would almost necessarily accompany other superior
qualifications for high public trusts. But take recent
periods of our history, take the most recent preceding our
own, when the means of acquiring knowledge have been so
extensive that there is the opportunity for fair comparison
between the several attainments which may have assisted the
competitor for public honours. What are the chief names

(I am speaking of public life) th;st have floated dow❑ and
are likely to remain buoyant on the stream of time ? Of
the whole number how large the proportion of men eminent
for classical acquirements and classical tastes. In the
judicial station there are Lord Mansfield, Lord Stowell,
Lord Ellenborough, Lord Tenterden. In public life Lord
North, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, Mr. Burke, Lord Grenville,
Mr. Wyndham, Mr. Canning—all eminent for classical
attainments.—(Cheers.) This at least is demonstrated,
that the time devoted to classical studies had not obstructed
their elevation. But surely there is a very strong presump-
tion, from the proportion which they bear to the total
number of distinguished men, that classical learning, and
the accomplishments derived from the study of it, must
have given them great advantages in the competition
for distinction.—( Loud cheering.) No doubt high, per-
haps equal, eminence has been attained in some few in-
stances by men who have not cultivated, or, at least,
have not been remarkable for, classical acquirements ; but
is there not strong reason to believe that in their case
success would have been more easy and more complete,
had such acquirements been superadded to their other
qualifications ?—(Cheers.) But do not contemplate men
whom I have merely named amid the excitement of political
or forensic contention—do not consider classical studies
merely as useful instruments for the improvement of their
style, and for gilding with the charms of happy allusion
or learned illustration the public displays of eloquence.
Follow them into the retirement of private life—witness
the refined tastes with which classical studies have in-
spired them, and learn to imitate the compensation they
have offered for the loss of power, or the interruption of
active employment. Take, as examples, the men the
most prominent in recent political history—the great
rivals, Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox. In the case of each you
have the most unexceptionable evidence as to the pursuits
and studies in which they found relaxation and amusement
whenever the contentions of public life were suspended.
Lord Holland thus speaks of Mr. Fox in the preface to
the " History of James the Second :"—" During his re-
tirement the love of literature and fondness for poetry,
which neither pleasure nor business had ever extinguished,
returned with an ardour which few, in the eagerness of
youth, or in the pursuit of fame, or advantage, are capable
of feeling. Hence it was that in the interval between
his active attendance in Parliament and the undertaking of
his history he never felt the tedium of a vacant day. It
was more difficult to fortify himself against the seductions
of his own inclination, which was continually drawing him
off from his historical researches to critical inquiry, and to
the study of the classics, the works of imagination, and
poetry. Abundant proofs exist of the effects of these in-
terruptions, both on his labours and on his mind. His let-
ters arc filled with complaints of such as arose from poli-
tics, while he speaks with delight and complacency of whole
days devoted to Euripides, Virgil, &c." Still more recent
testimony has been borne to the acquirements, the tastes,
the studies of Mr. Pitt by one who, combining the charac-
ter of a Statesman with that of a scholar, is an authority
inferior to none as to the importance and value of classical
accomplishments. In a letter of the Marquis Wellesley,
which has recently been made public, he says of Mr. Pitt—
" He was perfectly accomplished in classical literature, both
Latin and Greek. The accuracy and strength of his memory
surpassed every example which I have observed, hut the in-
trinsic vigour of his understanding carried him far beyond
mere recollection of the great models of antiquity in ora-
tory, poetry, history, and philosophy. He bad drawn
their essence info his own thoughts and language, and
with astonishing fidelity he applied the whole spirit of an-
cient learning to his daily use."—(Cheers.) " These studies
were his constant delight and resort. At Holwood, in
Kent, and at Weimer Castle, his apartments were strewed
with Latin and Greek classics, and his conversation with
those friends who delighted in similar studies frequently
turned on that most attractive branch of literature. In
these pursuits his constant and congenial companion was
Lord Grenville, who has often declared to me that Mr.
Pitt was the best Greek scholar he ever conversed with."—
(Cheers.) I have dwelt on this branch of Mr. Pitt's ac-
complishments, because I know not any source from which
more salutary assistance can be derived to chase from the
spirits those clouds and vapours which invest vacant minds,
and by self-weariness render retirement melancholy and in-
tolerable. How striking the contrast between the retire-
ment of these men and that of others scarcely less eminent

NUARY 14, 1837.

in public life, who had not congenial tastes for literary and
classical studies. " Though he had not forgotten his clas-
sical attainments," says the biographer of Walpole, "he
had little taste for literary occupations." He once ex-
pressed his regret on this subject to a friend who
was reading in the library at Naughton. " I wish,"
be said, " I took as much delight in reading as you
do ; it would be the means of alleviating many la-
borious hours in my present retirement ; but, to my mis-
fortune, I derive no pleasure from such pursuits."—(Cheers.)
Surely these testimonies and these contrasts are pregnant
with lessons of instruction. Surely they encourage us to
acquit e the habits and to cultivate those studies which, at
the same time that they are the highest solace and the most
grateful relaxation from the cares of business and the is orld,
are furnishing to him who takes delight in them new capa-
city for intellectual exertion—new stores of precious know-
ledge.—(Cheers.) " An tu existimas," said the kindred
spirit of antiquity, " an tu existimas aut suppetere nobis
posse, quod quotidie dicamus in tanta varietate reruns, nisi
animos nostros doctrina excolarnus, aut ferre animas taut=
posse contentionem, nisi cos eadem doctrina relaxemus."
Noble relaxation ! which, while it unbends, invigorates
the mind, while it is relieving it and refreshing it from
the exhaustion of present contention, is bracing and for-
tifying it for that which is to come. I have detained
you at too great length.—( Loud cheering.) I am well aware
that the observations I have addressed to you have nothing
of novelty to recommend them—the truths to which I have
adverted are so obvious that they scarcely require the aid
of reasoning to enforce them. But they are truly of vital
importance, and it too frequently happens that the ready as-
sent which we give to them has not the practical influence
on our conduct which it ought to have. If it had, how
many of us would have been spared the painful retrospect
—that retrospect which you may avert, but which we
cannot—of oppOrtunities lost, time mispent, habits of in-
dolence or of negligence become inveterate.—(Cheers.)
Hitherto I have referred exclusively to the consideration
of worldly advantage and worldly fame, as encouragements
to early and continued exertion. 'We have seen how
powerful they were in animating the ambitious spirit of the
Roman orator. Not one of th motives by which he was
stimulated is wanting to you. His field for competition
Was not more ample, the reward of success was not
more splendid.--(Cheers.) You have a country as en-
deared to you by proud recollections. You have insti-
tutions, civil and religious, standing in equal need of
your solicitude, infinitely more worthy of defence.—
(Loud cheering.) But for you these are incitements to
labour,, to zeal, in the course of knowledge and of virtue,
infinitely beyond any which could have animated the
exertions of Ciceio. • The love of praise, the hope of
posthumous glory, were with him the chief springs of ac-
tion—the great, the only, rewards of anxiety and labour.
Nullam enim virtus aliam mercedem laborum periculo-
rumque desiderat, preeter bane laudis et glorim, qua qui-
dem detracta, judices, quid est quod in hoc tam exiguo
Ore curricula et tam brevi tantis nos in laboribus exer-
ceamus,"—(Cheers.) You have other excitements to la-
bour, other rewards of virtuous action. Should the hope
of glory and fame be obscured, you have the express com-
mand of God to improve the faculties which distinguish
you from the beasts that perish'; you have the awful kow-
ledge that of the use of those faculties a solemn account
must be rendered ; you have the assurance of an immor-
tality different frOm that of worldly fame. By every mo-
tive which can influence a reflecting and responsible being
of a large discourse, looking before and after ; by the me-
mory of the distinguished men who have shed a lustre on
these walls ; by regard for your own success and happi-
ness in this life; by the fear of future discredit, by the hope
of lasting fame—by all these considerations do I conjure
you, while you have yet time, before the evil day shall yet
come, while your minds are yet pliable, to form them on the
models which are the nearest to perfection. " Sursum
cords." By the motives yet more urgent, by higher and
purer aspirations, by the duty of obedience to the will of
God, by the awful account you will have to render, not
merely of moral actions, but of faculties entrusted to you
for improvement—by all these high arguments do I con-
jure you " to number your days, that you may apply your
hearts unto wisdom"—(Loud cheers)—unto that wisdom
which, directing your ambition to the noble end of bene-
fiting mankind, and teaching you humble reliance on the
merits and on the mercy of your Redeemer, may support
you " in the time of your tribulation"—may " admonish you
in the time of your wealth"—and, in the hour of death and
in the day of judgment, may comfort you with the hope
of deliverance. (The conclusion of the discourse was the

ignal for fresh and repeated bursts of applause.)

A splendid dinner is to be given to-day by the
University to the Lord Rector. But we regret to say
that it is to be strictly private, so that we are precluded
from laying before our readers any report of the pro-
ceedings.

We understand the newsvenders are about to memo-
rialise the Postmaster-General. on the present inconvenient
mode adopted at the General Post Office, for the reception
of newspapers.

The Old Court at the Old Bailey is to be imme-
Lately supplied with apparatus for warming it with hot air.

NEW Yours.--Mr. Haskett has purchased the Na-
tional Theatre in this city, and at the close of the present
season will proceed to Europe to secure all the talent avail-
able at either London or Paris. Miss Phillips, the trage-
dian, having deserted from the Park Theatre, has com-
pleted a very successful engagement at this establishment.
She is on the eve of marriage with a gentleman of property
at New Orleans. Power is also secured by Flynn, and it is
said the Keeleys are in treaty ; so that the rival house must
look to fresh arrivals. John Reeve is announced as returning
in the spring, and Miss Shirreff and Wilson, it is said, will
visit us in the room of the Woods. The Bowery Theatre,
which was recently destroyed by fire, is already rebuilt, and
Mr. Hamblin, its proprietor, has gone to London to make
engagements.

DREADFUL FlRE.—Friday morning, shortly before
two o'clock, an alarming fire broke out in the house of Mr.
Russell, grocer, Peter-lane, St. John-street, Smithfield.
The flames were scarcely perceived before they had ex-
tended all over the house, and the escape of the inmates,
consisting of Mr. Russell, his sister, and a servant boy, was
not accomplished without difficulty. Mr. Russell and the
boy got out at the lower part quite naked, and the sister,
with nothing on but her night dress, was brought down a
ladder from an upper room by a person named Collins, and
taken to the house of Mr. Dighton, 85, Cow-cross. Four
children from the adjoining house of Mr. Jones, a coffee-
shop, were rescued by Mr. Draper, of Giltspur-street.
The alarm was soon generally spread, and several engines
of the fire brigade, under the management of Mr. Braid-
wood, and an engine of the West of England, were brought
to the spot. The supply of water was good, and the police
afforded useful assistance. From the position of the pre-
mises the firemen were enabled to attack the flames in
front and rear, and by carrying the hose of two of the bri-
gade engines to the roof of the Castle and Falcon in St.
John-street, they poured down a most effective stream on
the flames. The house next towards Cow-cross being
newly built with a strong party wall, fortunately proved a
good barrier on the one side, or, from the very crowded
nature of the property, the damage might have been much
greater than it is. By three o'clock the fire was corn=
pletely got under, having destroyed the premises and stock
of Mr. Russell, damaged the house of Mr. Jones, coffee-
shop keeper, and much scorched the opposite houses.
Whether Mr. Russell is insured or not could not be ascer-
tained amid the confusion.

Miss Ellen Tree was to make her first appearance
at the Park Theatre, New York, on the 12th December.

The manufacture of sugar from chestnuts, says the
Bons Sens, will probably soon become an object of as much
importance as that from beet root. Some processes of ex-
traction have already yielded 14 per cent., which is more
than equal to the average produce of the beet root.
DRAMATIC WRlTERS.—Sheridan received from
Ridgway 500/, for the copywright of Pizarro, and Sir R.
Phillips paid Tobin a similar sum for the Curfew. Colinan's
John Bull produced to him (by nights and copy) 1,2001.
Morton received for his play of Town and Country 1,0001.
before representation ; and Holcroft, for his Road to Ruin,
the same sum after. Mrs. Inchbald, by.her different come-
dies and farces, amassed 8,0001. Cumberland (the most
polished and classical dramatist of the last century) about
half that sum. F. Reynolds, the founder of broad modern
comedy (by his own admission in his " Reminiscences"), has
cleared nearly the enormous sum of 21,0001. _

MONEY MARKET.—The Foreign Exchanges have
still further given way on Friday afternoon, the deprecia-
tion on Paris and Marseilles amounting to 21 cents., and
on Amsterdam and Hamburg to 4. The appearance of the
market was, however, of a more unfavourable character
than that which the quotations indicate ; there was abun-
dance of money to place in Paris, but an utter absence of
bills—a circumstance which seems to justify the opinion
previously stated, that the late improvement in the Fo-
reign Exchange # was not purely the result of legitimate
commercial opefations, but was in part the effect of spu-
rious drafts issued for the purpose of a temporary improve-
ment, but which of necessity bring with them a re-action in
the sequel. We regret to have to announce an extensive

are in the silk trade, that of the firm of White and

Batt ; their transactions were on a very large scale, and in
the early part of last year were known to have been profi-
table in an extraordinary degree ; the recent depreciation
in the value of silk and the restrictions on the circulation
crippling the means of their debtors meeting their obliga-
tions have led to this unfortunate result. The circumstance
has taken the commercial world quite by surprise ; it was
known that they had a large capital embarked in trade,
and down to the very moment of their failure their credit
was not dimmed even by a suspicion.

FOREIGN IN TELLIGEN CE.

FRANCE.

THE BONAPARTE LAST ATTEMPT AT INSUR
RECTION IN FRANCE.

As the proclamations issued by Prince Louis, upon the
late occasion at Strasburg, have been much commented
upon by the Paris Papers, we now publish their text. They
have been printed amongst the other muniments of the
el)arge against the adherents of this Prince, who has 'lira-
s-21f been suffered to repair to the United States.
" PROCLAMATION OF PRINCE NAPOLEON LOUIS BONAPARTE
TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE

" Frenchmen !—You are betrayed! Your political and
commercial interests, your honour, your glory, are sold
to foreigners. And by whom ? By those who have pro-
fited by your grand revolution, and have violated all its
principles. Is it, then, for a Government without faith or
honour, or generosity, for institutions without solidity, for
laws without liberty, for peace without prosperity or tran-
quillity, for a present without a future, that we have been
struggling for forty years? In 1830, a Government was
imposed upon France without consulting the people, either

of the capital or the provinces, or the powerful voice of the
army. Frenchmen! All this has b een done without your
consent, and therefore is illegi!imate. A National
Congress, elected by the citizens, has alone the
right of deciding upon what is best for France.
Proud of my popular origin, strengthened by four
millions of votes calling me to the throne, I appear be-
fore you as the Representative of the SoverbligntY of the
People. It is time that, in the midst of the chaos of

parties, a national voice should be beard.

it is time

that, at the cry of liberty betrayed, you should brelA the
shameful yoke with which our glorious country is
,bur-
dened. See you not that the men who now direct o,ur
destinies are still the traitors of 1814 and 1815—the
executors of Ney ? Can you have confidence in them ?
All their Acts are intended to please the Holy Al-
liance. In obedience to it, they have abandoned our
faithful allies ; to sustain themselves, they have armed
brother against brother, have filled our towns with blood,
and trampled ' upon our feelings and our rights. The
ingrates have recollected the barricades only to erect de-
tached forts ; degrading the Great Nation, they cringe to
feeble Kings ; your old tricoloured flag is aihained of being
borne by them. Frenchmen ! let the recollection of the
great man who effected so much for the glory and
prosperity of the country, re-awaken your feelings !
Confiding in the holiness of my cause, I appear before
you with the will of the Emperor Napoleon in one
hand and his sword of Austerlitz in the other. At
Rome, when the people saw the bloody robe of Caesar,
they overthrew their hypocritical oppressors. Frenchmen !
Napoleon was greater than Caesar ; he is the emblem of the
civilisation of the nineteenth century. Faithful to the
maxims of the Emperor, I have no other interests than
your's, no other ambition than that of being useful to France
and to mankind. Except from hatred, rancour, and party
spirit, I call upon every man who feels a French heart
within his bosom to take his stand under the eagle of the
Empire. I have devoted my life to the accomplishment of
a high mission. From the rock of St. Helena a beam of

the setting sun has entered my soul. I will preserve the
sacred flame, and will conquer or die for the cause of the
people. Men of 1789—Men of the 20th March, 1815—
Men of 1830, arise ! Behold the man who governs you ;
then turn your eyes to the eagle, the emblem of glory, the
symbol of liberty, and make your choice. " Vive la
France ! Vive la Liberte !
(Signed)

" NAPOLEON."