The Rolliad, in Two Parts. George Ellis

To Sir Lloyd Kenyan, Bart.

       MASTER OF THE ROLLS, &c. &c.

      MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HONOUR,

      It was originally my intention to have dedicated the CRITICISMS on the ROLLIAD, as the ROLLIAD itself is dedicated, to the illustrious character, from whose hereditary name the Poem derives its title; and[1], as I some time since apprized the public, I had actually obtained his permission to lay this little work at his feet. No sooner, however, was he made acquainted with my after-thought of inscribing my book to your honour, but, with the liberality, which ever marks a great mind, he wrote to me of his own accord, declaring his compleat acquiescence in the propriety of the alteration. For if I may take the liberty of transcribing his own ingenuous and modest expression, “I am myself,” said he, “but a simple Rolle; SIR LLOYD KENYON is a Master of Rolls.”

      Great ROLLO’s heir, whose cough, whose laugh, whose groan,

       The’ Antæus EDMUND has so oft o’erthrown:

       Whose cry of “question” silenc’d CHARLES’s sense;

       That cry, more powerful than PITT’s eloquence;

       Ev’n he, thus high in glory, as in birth,

       Yields willing way to thy superior worth.

      Indeed, if I had not been so happy as to receive this express sanction of Mr. ROLLE’s concurrence, I should nevertheless have thought myself justified in presuming it, from the very distinguished testimony which he has lately borne to your merits, by taking a demi-rampant of YOUR HONOUR for his crest; a circumstance, in my opinion, so highly complimentary to your honour, that I was studious to have it as extensively known as possible. I have therefore given directions to my Publisher, to exhibit your portrait, with the ROLLE ARMS, and Motto, by way of Vignette in the Title Page; that displayed, as I trust it will be, at the Window of every Bookseller in Great-Britain, it may thus attract the admiration of the most incurious, as they pass along the streets. This solicitude, to diffuse the knowledge of your person, as widely as your fame, may possibly occasion some little distress to your modesty; yet permit me to hope, SIR LLOYD, that the motive will plead my pardon; and, perhaps, even win the approbation of your smile; if you can be supposed to smile without offence to the gravity of that nature, which seems from your very birth to have marked you for a Judge.

      Behold the’ Engraver’s mimic labours trace

       The sober image of that sapient face:

       See him, in each peculiar charm exact,

       Below dilate it, and above contract;

       For Nature thus, inverting her design,

       From vulgar ovals hath distinguish’d thine:

       See him each nicer character supply,

       The pert no-meaning puckering round the eye,

       The mouth in plaits precise demurely clos’d,

       Each order’d feature, and each line compos’d,

       Where Wisdom sits a-squat, in starch disguise,

       Like Dulness couch’d, to catch us by surprise.

       And now he spreads around thy pomp of wig,

       In owl-like pride of legal honour’s big;

       That wig, which once of curl on curl profuse,

       In well-kept buckle stiff, and smugly spruce,

       Deck’d the plain Pleader; then in nobler taste,

       With well-frizz’d bush the’ Attorney-General grac’d;

       And widely waving now with ampler flow,

       Still with thy titles and thy fame shall grow,

       Behold, SIR LLOYD, and while with fond delight

       The dear resemblance feasts thy partial sight,

       Smile, if thou canst; and, smiling on this book,

       Cast the glad omen of one favouring look.

      But it is on public grounds, that I principally wish to vindicate my choice of YOUR HONOUR for my Patron. The ROLLIAD, I have reason to believe, owed its existence to the [2] memorable speech of the Member of Devonshire on the first Discussion of the Westminster Scrutiny, when he so emphatically proved himself the genuine descendant of DUKE ROLLO; and in the noble contempt which he avowed, for the boasted rights of Electors, seemed to breathe the very soul of his great progenitor, who came to extirpate the liberties of Englishmen with the sword. It must be remembered, however, that Your Honour ministered the occasion to his glory. You, SIR LLOYD, have ever been reputed the immediate Author of the Scrutiny. Your opinion is said to have been privately consulted on the framing of the Return; and your public defence of the High-Bailiff’s proceeding, notoriously furnished MR. ROLLO, and the other friends of the Minister, with all the little argument, which they advanced against the objected exigency of the Writ. You taught them to reverence that holy thing, the Conscience of a Returning Officer, above all Law, Precedent, Analogy, Public Expediency, and the popular Right of Representation, to which our Forefathers erroneously paid religious respect, as to the most sacred franchise of our Constitution. You prevailed on them to manifest an impartiality singularly honourable; and to prefer the sanctity of this single Conscience, to a round dozen of the most immaculate consciences, chosen in the purest possible manner from their own pure House of Commons.

      Thine is the glorious measure; thine alone:

       Thee father of the Scrutiny, we own.

       Ah! without thee what treasures had we lost,

       More worth than twenty Scrutinies would cost!

       To’ instruct the Vestry, and convince the House,

       What Law from MURPHY! what plain sense from ROUS!

       What wit from MULGRAVE! from DUNDAS, what truth!

       What perfect virtue from the VIRTUOUS YOUTH!

       What deep research from ARDEN the profound!

       What argument from BEARCROFT ever sound!

       By MUNCASTER, what generous offers made;

       By HARDINGE, what arithmetic display’d!

       And, oh! what rhetoric, from MAHON that broke

       In printed speeches, which he never spoke!

       Ah! without thee, what worth neglected long,

       Had wanted still its dearest meed of song!

       In vain high-blooded ROLLE, unknown to fame,

       Had boasted still the honours of his name:

       In vain had exercis’d his noble spleen

       On BURKE and FOX—the ROLLIAD had not been.

      But, alas! SIR LLOYD, at the very moment, while I am writing, intelligence has reached me, that the Scrutiny is at an end. Your favourite measure is no more. The child of your affection has met a sudden and a violent fate. I trust, however, that “the Ghost of the departed Scrutiny” (in the bold but beautiful language of MR. DUNDAS) will yet haunt the spot, where it was brought forth, where it was fostered, and where it fell. Like the Ghost of Hamlet it shall be a perturbed spirit, though it may not come in a questionable shape. It shall fleet before the eyes of those to whom it was dear, to admonish them, how they rush into future dangers; to make known the secret of its private hoards; or to confess to them the sins of its former days, and to implore their piety, that they would give peace to its shade, by making just reparation. Perhaps too, it may sometimes visit the murderer, like the ghost of Banquo, to dash his joys. It cannot indeed rise up in its proper form to push him from his seat, yet it may assume some other formidable appearance to be his eternal tormentor. These, however, are but visionary consolations, while every loyal bosom must feel substantial affliction from the late iniquitous vote, tyrannically compelling the High-Bailiff to make a return after an enquiry of nine months only; especially when you had so lately armed him with all power necessary to make his enquiry effectual.

      [3] Ah! how shall I the’ unrighteous