1830.] 



Domestic and Foreign. 



715 



truth; a probability into which it is frequent- 

 ly necessary to inquire." Somers obviously 

 meant the same thing as Mr. Roscoe, though 

 he did not state the matter quite so metaphy- 

 sically. 



Wilmot's health compelled him to resign 

 his seat in the Common Pleas, when about 

 sixty-two. u I would much rather," he writes 

 to his brother, "resign without any remunera- 

 tion at all. The plus or the minus of suffi- 

 ciency lies only in my own breast. I hate 

 and detest pensions, and hanging upon the 

 public like an almsman /" A pension, how- 

 ever, he took, at the particular request of the 

 king, because, it seems, x " he thought it 

 would be vanity and affectation to refuse." 

 Vanity and affectation ! Of course he best 

 knew the state of his own feelings. No 

 doubt, he meant the refusal would wear the 

 appearance of vanity and affectation ; but 

 surely a man of common nerve might have 

 very well borne such an imputation. 



We do not remember to have seen the 

 following anecdote of Blackstone ; it bespeaks 

 more independence than usually he has cre- 

 dit for. It is in Halliday's Life of Lord 

 Mansfield. He had been recommended to 

 the Duke of Newcastle to fill the chair of 

 civil law at Oxford, and accordingly the 

 duke sent for him to sound his political 

 principles. " I presume, Mr. B., in case of 

 any political agitation, your exertions in be- 

 Tialf of government may be relied upon ?" 

 " Your grace may be assured that I will dis- 

 charge my duty in giving law-lectures to the 

 best of my poor ability." '* And your duty 

 in the other branch too ?" added his grace. 

 Mr. B. merely bowed in answer, and a few 

 days after Dr. Jenner was appointed to the 

 vacant chair. 



Mr. Roscoe's estimate of Thurlow is worth 

 quoting. 



His language, his mariners, and his demeanour, 

 constituted the principal ingredients of the charac- 

 ter attributed to him by his contemporaries. In his 

 haughty contempt of the opinions of others lay the 

 wisdom and value of his own ; in the dogmatical 

 and peremptory tone of his judgments resided a 

 great part of their profundity and learning ; and in 

 his rude and repulsive manners might be discovered 

 the secret of his supposed honesty. But deprived 

 of these adventitious colourings, his character is 

 seen under a very different aspect; and when no 

 longer awed by the terrors of his aspect, we are as- 

 tonished to discover how small was the spirit which 

 dwelt within him. To the qualities of a statesman 

 he had no pretensions ; and by the sullen indiffer- 

 ence with which he regarded the proceedings of 

 the cabinet, he seems to have admitted his incapa- 

 city. During the course of a long official life, he 

 does not appear to have originated any one great 

 measure for the benefit of his country. The strong- 

 est political feeling which he exhibited was an at- 

 tachment to the person of his sovereign ; and yet we 

 have seen how easily that sentiment yielded to ap- 

 prehensions for the safety of his own interests, &c. 



Satan, a Poem, by R. Montgomery ; 

 1830 Thank our stars, Mr. Satan Mont- 

 gomery has given himself his quietus. We 

 shalMiear no more of him. Actum est ! 



The very maidens pious, and dowagers de- 

 vout, must find their patience oozing at 

 every pore ; and even the very bishops, 

 whom he has so devoutly courted, must 

 think him fitter for straw and a blanket 

 than the gown and band, to which it seems 

 he aspires. Such a piece of extravagance 

 such tearing and ranting such a split- 

 ting of the ears of the groundlings such a 

 tumult and crashing of words we never 

 witnessed before ! Blackmore's clatter 

 was a whisper to it ! Not a scantling of 

 common-sense or simplicity gleams across 

 any line of any page of it ; and one-half of it, 

 as the school-boys say, won't construe. The 

 poem, as the title-page has it, consists of 

 one long soliloquy of Satan's recently vi- 

 siting the earth perched on Mount Morea, 

 with all the kingdoms of the world, as he 

 says, " Before me, like a panorama, 

 spread." 



It matters not where we dip for a few 

 lines the roar of the language is the same, 

 and perfectly stunning. Satan invokes the 

 thunder it comes : 



Lo I how it glooms, and what a fiery gash 



Deal the red lightnings through yon darkened 



sky- 

 All echo with the chorus of her (nature) clouds ! 

 And well Earth answers to the voice of Heaven. 

 Hark to the crash of riven forest-boughs 

 In yonder waste, the home of hurricanes, 

 That catc'h the howlings of the caverned brutes, 

 And wing them onwards to Arabia's wild, 

 O'ercanopicd with flying waves of sand. 

 Like a dread Ocean whirling thro' the skies ! 

 But thou, alone eternally sublime, 

 Thou rolling mystery of might and power ! 

 Rocking the tempest on thy breast of waves. 

 Or spread in breezy rapture to the sun 

 Thou daring ocean, that couldst deluge worlds. 

 And yet rush on I hear thy swell of wrath 

 In liquid thunder laughing at the winds 

 Resoundingly, and from afar behold 

 Thine armed billows, heaving as they roar, 

 And the wing'd sea-foam shiver on the gales. 

 Swell on, ye waves, and whirlwinds, sweep along, 

 &c. 



Satan is exceedingly smitten with Swit- 

 zerland : 



Sprinkled with mountains, and with cloud-topp'd 



hills, 



Helvetia swells majestic on my view. 

 In her primeval glory. Free-soul'd land ! 

 Summer and winter for thy smile contend ; 

 Witching thy prospects into fairy pomp 

 With beautiful abruptness ; meadow'd, green. 

 And glowingly, thy undulating vales 

 Extend, while fawning vines the hills embrace, 

 And landscapes, laughing o'er the clouds, may hear 

 The tempest-howl In cavern gloom below. 

 And winter hath his triumph ; let the rush 

 And roar of cataracts, the darksome lakes. 

 Convulsive rolling in the midnight storm. 

 The glaciers, billow'd into craggy ice, 

 And, chief o'er all, the silent Alp-king, rear'd 

 Like something risen from eternity ! 

 Let these declare thee for a land sublime, 

 Home of the dauntless ! on thy patriot soul 

 While sternness of simplicity can breathe 

 A Roman vigour, and the name of Tell 

 4 Y2 



