The Sun.
London, England, 1866-04-04 00:00:00

UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.

- -o-

INSTALLATION OF MR. CARLYLE AS RECTOR.
On Monday Mr. Thomas Carlyle was installed in
office as Rector of the University of Edinburgh, and
delivered his inaugural address. The event had
been looked forward to with the keenest expectation,
and the demand for tickets was far beyond the
power of accommodation of the Music-hall. The
students, as the constituents of the Rector, espe-
cially looked forward with enthusiasm to the visit
of Mr. Carlyle, who, though not in the first instance
unanimously chosen, was at least unanimously wel-
comed. By a little after 1 o'clock the front gallery
bad been filled by ladies, who were admitted by the
Rose-street entrance, and before the half-hour the
front-doors were thrown open, when the entire area
of the hall was filled in a few minutes by the stu-
dents and by graduates who had the fortune to ob-
tain tickets. The back of the platform was also
quickly filled by the overflow from the area of the
hall. The assemblage must have numbered alto-
gether about 2,200. In the interval that elapsed
before the ceremony the students amused themselves
by lively demonstrations, but at the same time keep-
ing perfect order. The academic body moved in
procession to the platform, the Rector, who wore
the robe of office, being immensely cheered.
The Rev. Dr. LEE opened the meeting with
prayer.
Mr. GIBSON, chairman of Mr. Carlyle's committee,
said—Mr. Vice-Chancellor, in the name of the
students of the University, I present to you Mr.
Carlyle as the Rector whom we have chosen. (Tre-
mendous cheering.) It would be strange indeed if
we were to omit from the list of those we wish to
honour our University's most distinguished son—
the foremost of living Scotchmen. (Loud cheers.)
More than 50 years ago he was a student in our
class-rooms, and now we rejoice that it has been our
good fortune to bring him back to you, and to give
to him the highest of all the honours we have to
bestow. (Cheers.) I beg you will install him as our
Lord Rector. (Loud cheers.)
The ceremony of presentation for the degree of
LL.D. then took place.
Professor Muirhead then severally presented
to the Vice-Chancellor, as gentlemen whom the
Senate had adjudged worthy to receive the honorary
degree of Doctor of Law, Mr. Erskine, of Linla-
then, advocate, a gentleman who had attained a
high reputation for eloquent scholarship both in
classical and Biblical literature ; Professor Huxley,
who had vindicated his claim to be regarded as one
of the most accomplished naturalists of the day ;
Dr. John Rae, who had, by personal exploration,
largely extended our knowledge of the Arctic re-
gions; Professor A. Crombie Ramsay, to whose
personal services the success of the geological survey
of the United Kingdom was mainly to be attributed ;
and Professor Tyndal, the worthy successor of
Davy, and colleague of Faraday. These gentlemen
were severally invested with the doctor's hood.
Mr. CARLYLE, when the loud applause with
which he was greeted had subsided, said—Gentle-
men, I have accepted the office you have elected me
to, and have now the duty to return thanks for the
great honour done me. Your enthusiasm towards
me, I admit, is very beautiful in itself, however un-
desirable it may be in regard to the object of it. It
is a feeling honourable to all men, and one well
known to myself when I wasin a position analogous
to your own. I can only hope that it may endure
to the end—that noble desire to honour those whom
you think worthy of honour, and come to be more
select and discriminate in the choice of the object of
it ; for I can well understand that you will modify
your opinions of me and many things else as you go
on. (Laughter and cheers.) There are now 56
years gone last November since I first entered your
city, a boy of not quite 14-56 years ago—to attend
classes here and gain knowledge of all kinds, I know
not what, with feelings of wonder and awe-struck
expectation ; and now, after a long course, this is
what we have come to. There is something touch-
ing and tragic, and yet at the same time beautiful,
to see the third generation, as it were, of my dear
old native land rising up and saying, " Well, you are
not altogether an unworthy labourer in the vineyard;
you have toiled through a great variety of fortunes,
and have had many judges." As the old proverb
says, " He that builds by the wayside has many
masters." We must expect a variety of judges ; but
the voice of young Scotland, through you, is really
of some value to me, and I return you many thanks
for it, though I cannot describe my emotions to you,
and perhaps they will be much more conceivable if
expressed in silence. (Cheers.) When this office
was first proposed to me, some of you know I was
not very ambitious to accept it at first. I was taught
to believe that there were more or less certain im-
portant duties would lie in my power. This, I con-
fess, was my chief motive in going into it—at least
in reconciling the objections felt to such things ; for
if I can do anything to honour you and my dear old
Alma Mater, why should I not do so? (Loud
cheers.) Well, but on practically looking into the
matter when the office actually came into my hands,
I find it grows more and more uncertain and ab-
struse to me whether there is much real duty that I
can do at all. I live 400 miles away from you, in
an entirely different state of things ; and my weak
health—now for many years accumulating upon me,
and a total unacquaintance with such subjects as
concern your affairs here—all this really fills me
with apprehension that there is really nothing worth
the least consideration which I can do on that score.
You map, however, depend upon it that if any such
duty does arise in any form, I will use my most
faithful endeavour to do whatever is right and pro-
per according to the best of my judgment. (Cheers.)
In the meanwhile, the duty I have at present—
which might be very pleasant, but which is quite
the reverse, as you may fancy—is to address some
words to you on some subjects more or less cognate
to the pursuits you are engaged in. In fact, I had
meant to throw out some loose observations—loose in
point of order I mean—in such a way as they occur
to
me_the truths I have in me about the business
you are engaged in, the race you have started on,
-what kind of a race it is you young gentlemen have
begun, and what sort of arena
you are likely to find
I
in this world. I ought,believe,according to custom
to have written .that do n paper
and h'whenai it read
out. That would have been much handier
formel at
the present moment—(a laugh).- but,
tempted to write I found that I was not accustomed.-
to write speeches, and that I did not get on very
well. So I flung that away, and resolved to trust
to the inspiration of the moment—just to what came
uppermost. You will therefore have to accept
what is readiest, what comes direct from the heart,
and you must just take that in compensation for
any good order or arrangement that there might
have been in it. I will endeavour to say nothing
that is not true as far as I can manage, and that is
pretty much all that I can engage for. (A laugh.)
Advices, I believe, to young men, and to all men,
are very seldom much valued. There is a great deal
of advising, and very little faithful performing. And
talk that does not end in any kind of action is better
suppressed altogether. I would not, therefore, go
much into ad •
vising ; but there is one advice I must
give you. It is,
and you havein
tfaiet, the summary of all advises,
heard
a thousand times, I dare say;
but I must nevertheless let you hear it te thousand
and first time, for it is most intensely
you will believe it at present ornoo true, whether
above all things the interest of nam'ely, that
wYhiculeormiOtewislticallilfeed de-
pends upon being diligent now,
to-
day, in this place where you have
edu-
cation. Diligent ! That includes all virtues
vues in it
that a student can have ; I mean to include in it all
qualities that lead into the acquirement of real in-
struction and improvement in such a place. If you
will believe me, you who are young, yours is the
golden season of life. As you have heard it called, se
it verily is, the seed-time of life, in which, if you do
not sow, or if you sow tears instead of wheat, vou
cannot expect to reap well afterwards, and you will
arrive at indeed little; while in the course of years,
when you come to look back, and if you have not done
what you have heard from your advisers —and among
many counsellors there is wisdom—you will bitterly
repent when it is too late. The habits of study ac-
quired at Universities are of the highest importance
in after-life. At the season when you are in young
years the whole mind is, as it were, fluid, and is
capable of forming itself into any shape that the