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faded and been blown away; and in these 400 years, since Kunz did his feat, we have arrived so far. And that is the last pearl, or odd button,' I will string on that Transaction.
** Here is a Letter since received, which may be worth printing:
Royal Society, Somerset House, 6th August 1856. * DEAR SIR,—I am a stranger to you, though not to your works ; and would not intrude on your time and attention, were it not that the subject on which I write may perhaps procure me your indulgence.
I have taken a walk into Bohemia, and visited, on the way, some of the places identified with the Prinzenraub. The old town of Altenburg is picturesque in situation, architecture and the costume of its Wendish population. In the castle, which stands on a hill resembling that at Edinburgh, are to be seen the dresses worn by the young Princes at the time of their kidnapping, ancient weapons, armour, &c., old chambers and modern halls, and a walled-up window marking the situation of the one through which Kunz carried-off his princely booty.
"The estate which was given to the Driller is situate about half-anhour's walk to the east of Zwickau ; a town that recalls Luther to memory. He (Luther) often ascended the tall church-tower to enjoy the prospect around ; and there remains on the top an old clumsy table said to have been his.
"The Driller family is not extinct. Three male representatives are living at Freyberg and other places in Saxony; but the estate has been out of their possession for many years. It lies pleasantly on one side of a narrow glen, and is now the site of a large brewery-Driller Bier. brauerei-famed in all the country round for the excellence of its beer. By experience acceptably gathered on the spot on a hot afternoon, I can testify that the Driller beer is equal to its reputation. Hence there is something besides a patriotic sentiment to attract customers to the shady gardens and spacious guest-chambers of the brewery ; and to justify the writing over the entrance, -Dulcius ex ipso fonte bibuntur aqua.
'In one of the rooms I saw a full-length painting of the Driller ; a sturdy, resolute-looking fellow, with ample black beard, grasping his pole, and supporting the young Prince whom he had just rescued. Also two miniatures; one inscribed Georg Schmidt od. Triller ; the other, a likeness of his Wife, a rustic dame of quiet expression, with gray eyes and arched eyebrows. Also a portrait of Kunz, very different from what I expected. He bears a striking resemblance to our portraits of Sir Philip Sidney; with crisp curly hair, ample forehead, well-opened eye, pointed beard, and wearing a gold chain. Also a thin quarto containing a history of the Prinzenraub, with portraits, and engravings of the incidents : The stealing of the princes from the castle the rescue
--the joyful return—the beheading of Kunz, &c. All these things help to keep-up a little enthusiasm among the Saxons, and perhaps encourage trade.
On the 8th of July of last year (1855), a festival was held to celebrate the four-hundredth anniversary of the Prinzenraub. A long procession, headed by Herr Ebert, the chief proprietor (since deceased), walked from Zwickau to the brewery, passing under two triumphal arches on the way. The leader was followed by a long file of coalers, by friends on foot and in carriages, and bands of music in wagons; altogether about eight-hundred persons. They kept-up the celebration with right good will, and drank, so the Braumeister told me, a hundred eimers of beer.
“A similar festival was held on the same day at Altenburg, Hartenstein, Grünhain, attended by people from all the neighbouring villages, when not a few paid a visit to the Prinzenhöhle,—the cave in which Prince Ernst was hidden.
'I did not see the monastery of Ebersdorf; but I was informed by sundry persons that the Driller's coat is still to be seen there. 'I remain, yours with much respect,
• WALTER WHITE •THOMAS CARLYLE, Esq.'
INAUGURAL ADDRESS AT EDINBURGH,
20 APRIL 1866,
. ON BEING INSTALLED AS RECTOR OF THE UNIVERSITY THERE.
GENTLEMEN,— I have accepted the office you have elected me to, and it is now my duty to return thanks for the great honour done me. Your enthusiasm towards me, I must admit, is in itself very beautiful, however undeserved 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 was of an age like yours, nor is it yet quite gone. I can only hope that, with you too, it may endure to the end,-this noble desire to honour those whom you think worthy of honour; and that you will come to be more and 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 of many things else, as you go on (Laughter and cheers). It is now fifty-six years, gone last November, since I first entered your City, a boy of not quite fourteen; to 'attend the classes' here, and gain knowledge of all kinds, I could little guess what, my poor mind full of wonder and awe-struck expectation; and now, after a long course, this is what we have come to [Cheers]. There is something touching and tragic, and yet at the same time beautiful, to see, as it were, the third generation 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: this is our judgment of you!” 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 go into describing my emotions to you, and perhaps they will be much more perfectly 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, but had my doubts rather. I was taught to believe that there were certain more or less important duties which would lie in my power. This, I confess, was my chief motive in going into it, and overcoming the objections I felt to such things: if I could do anything to serve my dear old Alma Mater and you, why should not I? [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 abstruse to me whether there is much real duty that I can do at all. I live four hundred miles away from you, in an entirely different scene of things; and my weak health, with the burden of the many years now acccumulating on me, and my total unacquaintance with such subjects as concern your affairs here,—all this fills me with apprehension that there is really nothing worth the least consideration that I can do on that score. You may depend on it, however, that if any such duty does arise in any form, I will use my most faithful endeavour to do in it whatever is right and proper, according to the best of my judgment (Cheers.
Meanwhile, the duty I at present have,—which might be very pleasant, but which is not quite so, for reasons you may fancy,—is to address some words to you, if possible not quite useless, nor incongruous to the occasion, and on subjects more or less cognate to the pursuits you are engaged in. Accordingly, I mean to offer you some loose observations, loose in point of order, but the truest I have, in such form as they may present themselves; certain of the thoughts that are in me about the business you are here engaged in, what kind of race it is that you young gentlemen have started on, and what sort of arena you are likely to find in this world. I ought, I believe, according to custom, to have written all that down on paper, and had it read out. That would have been much handier for me at the present moment [A laugh];—but on attempting the thing, I found I was not used to write speeches, and that I didn't get on very well. So I flung that aside; and could only resolve to trust, in all superficial respects, to the suggestion of
the moment, as you now see. 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 there might have been in it. I will endeavour to say nothing that is not true, so far as I can manage; and that is pretty much all I can engage for (A laugh].
Advices, I believe, to young men, as 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 advising ; but there is one advice I must give you. In fact, it is the summary of all advices, and doubtless you have heard it a thousand times; but I must nevertheless let you hear it the thousand-and-first time, for it is most intensely true, whether you will believe it at present or not: namely, That above all things the interest of your whole life depends on your being diligent, now while it is called today, in this place where you have come to get education! Diligent: that includes in it all virtues that a student can have; I mean it to include all those qualities of conduct that lead on to the acquirement of real instruction 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, so it verily is, the seed-time of life; in which, if you do not sow, or if you sow tares instead of wheat, you cannot expect to reap well afterwards, and you will arrive at little. And in the course of years, when you come to look back, 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 acquired at Universities are of the highest importance in after-life. At the season when you are young in years, the whole mind is, as it were, fluid, and is capable of forming itself into any shape that the owner of the mind pleases to allow it, or constrain it, to form itself into. The mind is then in a plastic or fluid state; but it hardens gradually, to the consistency of rock or of iron, and you cannot alter the habits of an old man: he, as he has begun, so he will proceed and go on to the last.
By diligence I mean, among other things, and very chiefly too,-honesty, in all your inquiries, and in all you are about.