The Sun.
London, England, 1859-10-28 00:00:00

is the other—(cheer;)—and these two I deem by
very much the greatest honours of my whole exis-
tence. (Applause.) Your worthy president, the
Lord Provost, has mentioned my still continuing to
work, though I might perhaps claim the benefit of
rest after so Jong a life of labour; but the real truth
is—and I venture to utter it in the presence of
many younger friends, as it imparts a useful prac-
tical lesson—as expressed by the great Christian
poet, Cowper,—
• •

" A want of occupation is not rest,•
A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed."
(Loud applause.) And I know one illustration of
this maxim, that a worthy man to whom I was
oftentimes opposed in party conflicts—opposed on
principle on my part, as he was opposed on princi-
ple to me on his—l mean the late Lord Liverpool,
so long at the head of the Government of this coun-
try, and who had the singular satisfaction of pre-
siding over the Government during the immortal
victories of Wellington, always stated that it was
his plan to read a certain portion every day of some-
thing unconnected with the cares of office. For he
said he knew the time must come sooner or later
when office would cease to occupy him, and where
should he be, he said, if he had no means of filling
up his time, for reading then would alone remain to
him ? (Applause.) I have known many brethren of
mine in the profession of the law who entirely de-
viated from this maxim. I could name two or three
of the most remarkable of them, who, I don't be-
lieve, ever opened a book since they left college—
(laughter and applause)—with the exception of pro-
fessional books, of course ; but any book not con-
nected with their profession—anything they were
not bound to read—they hardly ever read, except-
ing, perhaps, the newspaper, and not always that.
(Laughter and applause.) Much wiser was Lord
Liverpool's maxim, and so will every man feel who
applies it to his own case, to prepare him for the
rest, or that which is commonly called rest—namtly,
the change in the application of his mind. (Cheers.)
We know that men as well as animals are rested
when they change the muscles that they put in ac-
tion. A long, fatiguing journey will be rest to the
horse as well as to the rider if it is up hill or down
hill, instead of being always on a level. It calls
into action a new set of muscles, and so the man
enjoys what alone should be called rest—is re-
lieved from fatigue by changing the application
of his faculties, and by looking at, thinking of,
reading of, and discussing other subjects than those
which usually come undr his eye. (Hear.) You
will excuse me from stepping aside •to give this
little practical hint to many of my brethren in the
profession whom I see around me. (Hear, hear,
and a laugh.) My Lord Provost, I have referred
to my connexion with Yorkshire as the other great
honour and great event in my life. I must add that
when I was living among my own constituents it
was a very painful reflection to consider—though I
was received bj them most affectionately and
kindly, no doubt—that in some parts even of that
county, and in many parts of other counties in
England, there prevailed a degree of corruption in
the exercise of the elective franchise that almost
made men doubt, not only whether the franchise
should be extended, but have led them to doubt
whether it was of any use at all. It must be highly
gratifying to think that this observation does not
apply to Scotland. (Hear, and cheers.) There
may have been in years past one single exception
or thereabouts, only proving the rule, but electoral
corruption does not exist in Scotland. (Loud
cheers.) Of some parts of England, of too many
parts of it, it may be said—
" At gold's betwitching charms the franchise flies—
The meaner sell it, and the rich man buys."
(Applause.) Until it is extirpated, and extirpated
with a steady, unflinching, and strong hand, the
constitution of this country will be on its trial.
(Hear, and cheers.) That it will survive I enter-
tain no manner of doubt, because I entertain no
manner of doubt that that corruption will be en-
tirely extirpated. (Cheers.) It, is now 25 years
since I last had the happiness of being in this great
city, and the lapse of those years had created so
many blanks —[here his lordship seemed much
moved]—that I dare not trust myself to think of
them. To think that I am surviving all those
friends whom I might have expected to see here
to-day—friends of all ages, the last and greatest loss
of all Lord Murray, bat very shortly before that John
Hope, Lord Justice Clerk, of a younger age—but I
cannot bear to dwell on that subject. I would only
add that these reflections yield the only drop of
bitterness that is in the cup which you have pre-
sented to me this night. (Hear, hear.) But five-
and-twenty years have made another change—a
change of a happy description. I have survived, I
won't say party, but I have survived the rancour
and delusions of party. (Loud cheers.) I have
survived those delusions which allowed no merit
to an adversary and admitted no fault in a friend ;
that mixed blindness and rancour, I have happily
survived. (Cheers:) I had, indeed, to a certain
degree anticipated it myself ; but still it is a happy
thing to have it to say that we have the rare feli-
city of the times to comfort us—the felicity of the
times which were described by an old Roman when
you can speak what you think, and think as you
list. (Hear, hear, and cheers.) " Rara tempornm
felicitas, übi sentire qum velis, et qum sentias dicere
licet." I wish the Romans of the present day had
that happiness. (Cheers.) They have only half of
it; they are allowed to think as they please, pro-
vided they do not speak what they think. (Hear,
and a laugh.) Ido fervently trust that out of the
strange confusion—for I can call it nothing else—
which prevails in Italian affairs, I can hardly say T
expect, but I hope to see something like a real
existence of freedom and independence in that part
of Italy. (Cheers.) From the total absence of
party raneonr, spleen, and blindness at present one
may venture to say a word on the state of things
at home. and abroad. (Hear, hear.) As for our
home affairs, I entirely agree with my noble friend
the Duke of Argyll that we must continue to make
useful and well-considered and practical improve-
ments, as he happily expressed it, to peserve to
our constitution the moderation and wisdom of age
with the vigour of youth. (Cheers.) As to our
foreign concerns, there may be various opinions
about the late war in Italy. Some may think that
it was undertaken with the single and honest pur-
pose of freeing the Italians. There may be others
less. innocent in their belief (laughter), who may
have a hankering after an opinion that it was not
alien to the plan and motive of the war to give the
King of Piedmont a great piece of the territories
of the Emperor of Austria. Be that as it may, and
be the cause of that war ever so suspicious, nay, be
it ever so unjustifiable, my belief is that out of it,
if it be evil, good has come, for there is a cer-
tain, indeed a great step, I may say, made
towards the independence of the Italian people.
(Cheers.) My hope, Ido not deny, is to see them
under the King of Sardinia, as the only practical
mode of insuring their own independence. (Cheers.)
I entirely agree with my noble friend Lord John
Russell—my noble Scotch kinsman, I may call him
—who held the other day, when he received the
freedom of the city of Aberdeen, that the cardinal
view for this country to take was that no foreign
Power should interfere with the affairs of the
Italians; that they should take their own course,
side with the party they chose, and that no foreign
State should interfere to sty nay to them, or to say
" Why do you so ?" or "Do otherwise." (Cheers.)
But have we no interest in all these matters, direct,
important ? I look to France. I have very great
confidence in the duration of the more peaceable
connexion—l hope I may say alliance—with that
country. And why should it not be so ? (Hear.)
Why should not France, possessing all that a na-
tion ought to desire, and endowed with all good
things, not innocently and harmlessly enjoy them,
and why should she be tempted to do what is un-
lawful ? Our first parents had in unmeasured abun
dance all their wants supplied, and all lawful en-
joyments allowed; but the Tempter came; the fiend,
the father of mischief envied their innocence from
which he himself had fallen ; he hated that inno-
cence and envied the happiness which was its fruit,
and he resolved on their ruin. He addressed him-
self to the weaker party, as the most likely not to
resist. In an evil hour he was listened to; our first
parents fell, and they involved the world in the
curse of their transgression. So with France. Every
comfort which a nation can desire is theirs. Glory
is theirs, even of the kind which erring mortals
prize ; of warlike glory they have enough to sat;sfy
the most ambitious nation. In the sacred pursuits
of peace their renown is immense. They have the
foremost place in all the glories of the arts and
sciences. But the same Tempter, ever restless,
envies their innocence and their gains, and he
must needs address himself to the weaker portion
of them, because that portion is the less likely to
.resist.:
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"What signifies," he says to them 1
" those pursuits—what signifies looking after the
comfort of your families, or looking after gains,
grovelling gains ? The true motive for a great na-
tion like you is (glory, warlike glory. Of it, no
doubt, you have had a great deal already, but it is
a thing of which you never can have enough.
Therefore turn your minds to war and to the glories
of war." " Don't suppose," says the Father of Lies,
" that you will cease to be able to make your ordi-
nary gains in your wonted pursuits. By looking
after warlike glory you will still be able to carry
on those pursuits ; if you make discord prevail
generally you will suffer much no doubt, but other
nations will suffor more. Therefore seek that glory
by all means. No price is too great to pay for it,
no sacrifice is too great to make for it. Let your
name be emblazoned, let it be written in brilliant
letters of fire; and if the conflagration spreads you
Lan extinguish it with blood, while the air rings
with the cries of misery. Glory, glory :at all ha-