narch, seated in the self-same throne. Once great interest to many to witness the ceJames the First (Sixth of Scotland) was remonies with which the Assembly is so irritated by some attack made upon closed. The business still consists of queshim by the preacher, that he rose from the tions of no great interest, which are arthrone, and, addressing the occupant of ranged very much by the old gentlemen the pulpit, said, "Either speak sense, or around the table. At length daylight become down from that pulpit !" To which gins to look through the windows; and the obedient and candid ecclesiastic re- the pale wearied faces of the members and plied, "I will neither speak sense nor spectators look strange and spectral. It come down from this pulpit!" and we was half past two in the morning before doubt not he avoided either alternative. the last item of business at the recent AsAt the close of the service, the Commis-sembly was finished, and the Moderator sioner again bows to the preacher, and rose to give his concluding address. This the preacher to the Commissioner. It was brief, occupying just a quarter of an was in preaching upon this occasion that hour: it was characterized by much clearDr. Chalmers made so brilliant an appear-ness and good sense, and expressed with ance as induced a result unheard of in any place of worship—an involuntary murmur of applause on the part of the congregation. And two years since Mr. Caird preached his sermon on Religion in Common Life, which has since attained such an unexampled popularity and circulation. The preachers this year were Mr. Wilson of Forgandenny; Mr. Thompson of Ormiston; Mr. Boyd of Kirkpatrick-Irongray; and Mr. Mitchell of Peterhead: all, we believe, clergymen of not many years' standing in the Church. But the General Assembly is drawing to the close of its brief space of power. All this while the current of white-neckclothed men has been ebbing and flowing all day along the Mound, to and from the Assembly Hall: the touters have been standing about its door, pressing the advertisements of enterprising tailors and stationers upon all who enter; the beefeaters and powdered lackies have been lounging in the lobbies; and the leading members, in earnest conversation, have been walking in twos and threes up and down the gas-lit tunnel which leads to the house. But the Commissioner is beginning to look sleepy, and the throne is vacant for long intervals, during which business proceeds as usual: the really interesting work of the Assembly is over: and the Monday, the last day of its sitting, is devoted to a number of small matters of detail. There are great blanks on the benches that forenoon, and the attendance of strangers is small. The Assembly adjourns to meet again at eight in the evening: and at all hours, down to eleven or twelve P. M., numbers of people are pouring in; till at midnight on that final evening the house is nearly as much crowded as upon its opening day. It is always a matter of a certain quaintness of style which seemed to us very appropriate to the occasion. There was a pause when the address was ended, and every one present rose to his feet as the Moderator continued: "Right Reverent and Right Honorable, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, the great Head of the Church, I now dissolve this Assembly; and appoint the next meeting to be held in this place, on Thursday, the 21st of May, 1857." Turning to the Commissioner, the Moderator shortly told him that the proceedings of the Assembly were at an end; thanked him for his attention during its sittings; and expressed the hope that his Grace might be able to report favorably to the Queen of the order with which things had been done. The Commissioner addressed the Assembly, and ended by saying, "Right Reverend and Right Honorable, in the Queen's name, I now dissolve this Assembly, and appoint its next meeting to be held in this place, on Thursday, the twenty-first of May, 1857." It was curious to see the little proof of the mutual jealousy of the Church and the State, in this form of dissolving the present Assembly, and appointing the time of meeting of the next; the Moderator doing so in the Saviour's name, without the least recognition of the Queen's power to interfere; and the Commissioner doing so in the Queen's name, without any notice of the previous words of the Moderator. Long may the spiritual and temporal powers work together harmoniously as now, without hitch or hindrance! The Moderator next offers a prayer, and the proceedings of the Assembly are finally closed by singing part of a psalm, and by the benediction pronounced by the Moderator. From time immemorial the same psalm has always been sung, and it was a touching thing to see the tears stealing down the cheek of many a venerable member, to whom these words brought back Assemblies long ago, and suggested, perhaps, the thought of future Assemblies, when he should have changed his simple pulpit for his quiet grave. It may interest our readers to know the words which have so lively an interest for every Scotch minister, and which are always understood in Scotland as a supplication for the welfare of the Church :- "Pray that Jerusalem may have Let them that love thee and thy peace, Now, for my friends' and brethrens' sakes, Rough and rugged in their uncompromising literalness, these words look nothing as we transcribe them here. We can only assure our readers that there was a very remarkable power in them as we heard them read and sung in the Assembly Hall, at 3 a.m., on the morning of the third of June. On the evening of the day after the Assembly, the Moderator gives a dinner party to some seventy or eighty guests. The leading men of the Assembly and of Edinburgh are invited, but not the Commissioner. The entertainment completely eclipses the dinners given by his Grace; but by long-established etiquette, there is no dessert,-we presume by way of having some point of inferiority to the banquets of Holyrood. And so the General Assembly is over. The Commissioner becomes plain my Lord again. The Moderator puts off his court dress and cocked hat, and becomes once more the plain parish priest. The members return to their homes,-insignificant units singly, though together constituting a court invested with powers which, if exercised, would excite a revolution. The two or three poor wretches who have been deposed, go home, with sinking hearts, to tell their children that they must quit the manse, and go down to the lowest depths of poverty and shame. The beefeaters and pursuivants become street porters once more. The Assembly Hall is silent and deserted. And the Southron who, for reasons quite sufficient to himself, meanwhile sojourns in the North, and has beguiled the tedium of unemployed days by watching the Assembly's proceedings, and putting many questions concerning them to many friends, betakes himself to his temporary home, and jots down his recollections for the amusement of the readers of Fraser. From the Dublin University Magazine. LORD BROUGHA M. ALL young men conscious of possessing or who think they possess talents above mediocrity are ambitious; but only a few * Contributions to the Edinburgh Review, by Henry, Lord Brougham, F.R.S., Member of the Na tional Institute of France, and of the Royal Academy of Naples. In 3 vols. London and Glasgow: Richard Griffin & Company, Publishers to the University of Glasgow, 1856. a very few-succeed in realizing their youthful aspirations. To most of them the gates of advancement refuse to turn on their golden hinges. Of the rest, the majority, if they do get an entrance, are so soured by the repeated refusals of the churlish porter whom men call Fate or Luck, that they have no spirit remaining to enjoy those Elysian plains which they had so often dreamed of; or having lost zest for the pomp of those marble halls, the revels of which they so often longed to enjoy, though the gate be open, they do not wish to enter, and prefer setting up their tabernacle outside the adamantine walls. But there are still in all ages, a few who rise to the summit of their most extravagant hopes, who even win an entrance before the chills of age have deprived them of the power of enjoyment, or who, carrying the zest of youth with them throughout life, strive as eagerly and enjoy as keenly in the frosts of December as amidst the blossoms of May. along with it the energy of other men, towards some definite end-a mind which expresses itself in action and in business, which is actuated by a desire for results rather than for principles, for the concrete rather than the abstract. But in addition to this intellectual basis, certain moral qualifications at first sight apparently incompatible are indispensable. For first, the ambitious man must be at once patient and restless. He must work perseveringly to attain his end, but he must not be satisfied with it when attained. Content is fatal to his career-he must ever look mainly to the future, and to the What is it that distinguishes those fa- moon for his reward. Secondly, he must vorites of nature from the rest of her chil- be obstinate and he must be pliant-obWhat is the secret of that fascina-stinate, to keep to his purpose; pliant, to tion before which even the powers of be able to avail himself of the sinuosities nature seem to yield? We speak not of of life. Thirdly, he must be conciliating those who are born with the silver spoon, and imperative, for he must use the arts who have been brought up in the marble both of persuasion and command. And, palaces, and have sported as children in lastly, he must be honorable, and yet not the Elysian fields, but of the few among over scrupulous-honorable that his party the outer tenants, the cottars and squat- may trust in him; not over scrupulous, ters of the great common, who force their that he may, when the crisis comes, carry entrance into the palace grounds. There out some coup d'etat which will do the can be no mistake as to the badge which work of years, and compensate for the distinguishes these men-it is intellect. shortness of life. The morality of a deliThey are all men of strong reasoning fa- cate woman or of an amiable man would culties. This is the sine qua non. Men of be fatal to great success. It is true there brilliant imagination often get the start at are instances of men who have won their first, but unless intellect obtain the mastery spurs with spotless shield-the preux they lose their way or loiter behind. Nor is chevaliers of nature-but these are the the man of fine feelings and generous heart Miltons, the Chathams, the Wellingmore likely to succeed: he may conciliate tons; men of a different clay from orfriendship and love, but he will be pushed dinary humanity, spirits of some other aside by harder natures, and most likely world who have been sent here through will retire in disgust from the struggle. some freak of nature. But for the common run of ambitious men prudery is failure, and the Jesuit principle is a necessary element in the system of their lives-a principle which, although utterly without defence in foro conscientia, is pretty sure of an acquittal before the tribunal of the world, if it has only been lucky enough to retain success as its advocate. But though superior intellectual powers are absolutely essential to the man who would win the prizes of public life, these powers must be of a peculiar order. The meditative intellect will not do. Its possessor is too much inclined to stand apart and contemplate the struggling crowd, and as he advances in life the prizes of ambition lose their attraction, and thought like virtue is to him its own reward. Neither will the man of subtile analyzing mind be more likely to succeed, for he loses time in attempting to extricate the infinite complexities of human affairs, and before he has half finished his laborious examination, the moment of action is past. It is, therefore, the practical intellect which characterizes the successful man of ambition. An intellect capable of directing all its energy, and of carrying It will be said, why then should men try to rise to the dignities of life, if, in order to succeed, they must stain the purity of the ermine of their souls? We answer, far be it from us to ask any one so to strive. Let him keep his ermine pure, and white if he can, in the position in life in which he was born. This is the teaching of St. Paul. But let him not complain if he do not attain what he does not strive for. The good things of this life are not promised to the pure. In Utopia it is otherwise the good always prosper | He studied that he might acquire power; and the wicked are unsuccessful-but in and feeling that this could best be done this nether world as it is as frequently the reverse, arising from that unfitness of things which must ever coëxist with a state of probation; and it is a moral teaching as dangerous as it is unsound, which holds out the rewards of this world as inducements to virtue. Virtue is a road neither to riches nor distinction. He who would win the world's prizes must use the world's weapons. He must labor, he must scheme, and, above all, he must dare. But it does not necessarily follow that the ambitious man is lost in the theological sense. "Twas by ambition that the angels fell," but through ambition men often rise to a nobler nature than they had before. Great questions of policy, enlarged principles of action, give a more elevated tone to the character, and the latter end of the man is often better than the beginning. If we were asked for a type or representative of the ambitious man, combining all the qualities most essential to success, and who should best illustrate the principles which we have endeavored to enunciate, we would fix upon Harry Brough am. by strengthening his reasoning faculties, he devoted all his attention to those branches of study which seem to have the most direct tendency to that result. Hence, he early addicted himself to mathematics-for there is in this science of sciences something definite in result. It certainly unlocks some of the secrets of nature, and we think it may give a similar mastery over the moral world. Why should human action and motive not be subject to arithemetical calculation as well as the laws of nature? And does not the higher calculus seem just on the verge of the two worlds of matter and mind, ready to grasp at both? But a mind like Brougham's was not to be led astray by such fallacies; a slight experience would teach him that the complication of human affairs, their intimate action and reaction, transcends the resources of the subtilest mathematics. He felt the impress of his genius therefore, and passed on to methods more directly applicable to human affairs. Logic and metaphysics were next studied with characteristic ardor, but though he threw on them the light of his original mind, they could not long detain one so eminently practical. He soon discovered that he who would rule mankind must appeal to their prejudices and passions as frequently as to their reason; nor could he fail to see that the metaphysical notion of a man, as made up of so many separate qualities and powers, is a most fallacious representation of a being so essentially individual and concrete. These considerations would direct him to another branch of study, which, while it avowedly purported to appeal to the pas sions fully as much as to the reason of man, repudiated altogether the metaphysical analysis. In the view of this science No one has ever had the "Scotch" mind more fully developed. No one so eminently combined perseverance with impatience cautious, elaborate preparation with that rapidity of action and energy of expression which secure all the advantages of surprise. Honorable to his party, but the first to suggest to them the most daring acts of strategy, which, when necessary he did not hesitate to execute; he rose irregularly perhaps, but rapidly and surely, to the summit of his ambition; happy in this, that his moral nature kept pace with his external fortunes, and that when peer of the empire he was in every respect a better man than when tribune-that of Oratory-man was a living, actof the people. But it was not alone to nature that Brougham was indebted for his success. A special education brought into the greatest efficiency the formidable combination of his natural powers, for instinct ively and from the very outset his studies were directed by his ambition. Brougham was no student of the Belles Lettres. Poetry seems never to have had attractions; and if he ever perused the novels and romances of his own or of other times, it could not be discovered from his writings. ing being, who must be moved altogether, Such was the education of Lord Brougham-for his professional training as a barrister merely helped more thoroughly to combine the three courses of study through which he had passed. Not that we mean to say that he utterly neglected other branches of knowledge; for, with the exception of polite literature, there is evidence in his writings that he is nearly a universalist a cyclopædia of useful knowledge. But all that is accessory; it hangs on him loosely; whereas his oratory, his metaphysics, and his mathematics have been imbibed into his nature, and form part of the man. Now it so happens that we have the result of this education in the first volume of these collected Reviews. The "Oratorical Articles" clearly demonstrate the profound and exhaustive study which he had made of the art; while in the same volume the biographical sketches of the statesmen of the Georges afford abundant illustration of our remarks upon the conditions of success necessary to the ambitious man, and also on their special application to Brougham himself. For in sketching lives, in many instances so like his own, he becomes a kind of witness in his own case, and is forced to enunciate opinions and distribute censure or applause which he cannot help seeing apply to himself. We propose, therefore, to restrict our remarks to this volume for the present, and to content ourselves with a very brief summary of Lord Brougham's oratorical system, and then to pass under review some of the chief of those statesmen whose portraits Lord Brougham here gives us. And when it is considered that to do so involves something like an account of the matter of a dozen Reviews, condensed in the Bramah press of Lord Brougham's style, it will be admitted that we have attempted fully as much as our space can in any manner permit of our accomplishing. next of official corruption, then follows the connivance at the protection of piracy, then the judicial murder of citizens in furtherance of his collusion with the pirates, and after these enormities follows those of inviting matrons to a banquet and appearing in public with a long purple robe." But Demosthenes was the favorite orator of Brougham, whom, with only the minimum of allowance necessary for the difference of auditory, he labored not unsuccessfully to reproduce; so that whether or not Brougham could have been original in his oratory, he has deliberately foregone the attempt, and tied himself down to what would be called the most slavish and literal copying, if it were not that the supreme excellence of the model justifies any sacrifice of any possible originality. According to Brougham, the study of Demosthenes is the best corrective of the loose style of writing and of oratory current in the present day, which "affords a new instance how wide a departure may be made from nature with very little care, and how apt easy writing is to prove hard reading." It is easy to acquire the faculty of fluent speaking; any one will succeed who will give himself the trouble of frequently trying it, and can harden himself against the pain of frequent failures. Complete self-possession and perfect fluency can thus be acquired mechanically, but it will be the self-possession of ignorance, and the fluency of speaking about and about a subject. It may be, "That the habit may have taught him something of arrangement, and a few of the simplest methods of producing an impression; but his Idiction is sure to be much worse than if he never made the attempt. Such a speaker is never in want of a word, and hardly ever has one that is worth having.' The first remark of Lord Brougham's which attracted our attention on perusing his oratorical articles was, that we lose much of the effect of ancient oratory from Not in this way did Demosthenes acignorance of the peculiarities of feeling inquire his marvellous oratory. the audience to whom it was addressed; and that even the fullest information will not enlist our sympathies. For instance, in one of Cicero's orations "The greatest of all orators never regarded the composition of any sentence worthy of him to deliver, as a thing of easy execution. Practised as he was, and able surely if any man ever "After working our feelings up to the high- was by his own mastery over language, to pour est pitch, by the finest painting of vicious ex-out his ideas with facility, he elaborated every cesses, and their miserable effects, the whole is wound up by, what to us appears, a pure anticlimax-a disrespect to some 'Nymph of the Grot.' When, again, he is making the father of Verres sum up his iniquities, the first acts enumerated are those of culpable negligence, the passage with almost equal care. Having the same ideas to express, he did not, like our easy and fluent moderns, clothe them in different language for the sake of beauty; but reflecting that he had upon the fullest deliberation adopted one form of expression as the best, and be |