POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.
(1797-1798.)
[LII.] THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.
The Anti-Jacobin was planned by George Canning when he was Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He secured the collaboration of George Ellis, John Hookham Frere, William Gifford, and some others. The last-named was appointed working editor. The first number appeared on the 20th November, 1797, with a notice that "the publication would be continued every Monday during the sitting of Parliament". A volume of the best pieces, entitled The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin, was published in 1800. It is almost impossible to apportion accurately the various pieces to their respective authors, though more than one attempt has been made so to do. The following piece is designed to ridicule the extravagant sympathy for the lower classes which was then the fashion.
Friend of Humanity.
Needy knife-grinder! whither are you going?
Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order—
Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in't,
So have your breeches!
Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones,
Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike-
Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day, "Knives and
Scissors to grind O!"
Tell me, knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?
Did some rich man tyrannically use you?
Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?
Or the attorney?
Was it the squire for killing of his game? or
Covetous parson for his tithes distraining?
Or roguish lawyer made you lose your little
All in a lawsuit?
(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?)
Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids,
Ready to fall as soon as you have told your
Pitiful story.
Knife-grinder.
Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir,
Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers,
This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were
Torn in the scuffle.
Constable came up for to take me into
Custody; they took me before the Justice,
Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish
Stocks for a vagrant.
I should be glad to drink your honour's health in
A pot of beer, if you would give me sixpence;
But, for my part, I never love to meddle
With politics, sir.
Friend of Humanity.
I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first—
Wretch! whom no sense of wrong can rouse to vengeance—
Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,
Spiritless outcast!
[Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.]
[LIII.] SONG BY ROGERO THE CAPTIVE.
This is a satirical imitation of many of the songs current in the romantic dramas of the period. It is contained in the Rovers, or the Double Arrangement, act i. sc. 2, a skit upon the dramatic literature of the day.
Whene'er with haggard eyes I view
This dungeon, that I'm rotting in,
I think of those companions true
Who studied with me in the U-
-niversity of Gottingen—
-niversity of Gottingen.
[Weeps, and pulls out a blue 'kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds.
Sweet 'kerchief check'd with heavenly blue,
Which once my love sat knotting in,
Alas, Matilda then was true,
At least I thought so at the U-
-niversity of Gottingen—
-niversity of Gottingen.
[At the repetition of this line Rogero clanks his chain in cadence.
Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift ye flew,
Her neat post-waggon trotting in!
Ye bore Matilda from my view;
Forlorn I languish'd at the U-
-niversity of Gottingen—
-niversity of Gottingen.
This faded form! this pallid hue!
This blood my veins is clotting in,
My years are many—they were few
When I first entered at the U-
-niversity of Gottingen—
-niversity of Gottingen.
There first for thee my passion grew,
Sweet; sweet Matilda Pottingen!
Thou wast the daughter of my tutor,
Law Professor at the U-
-niversity of Gottingen—
-niversity of Gottingen
Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu,
That kings and priests are plotting in;
Here doom'd to starve on water-gruel,
never shall I see the U-
-niversity of Gottingen!—
-niversity of Gottingen!
[During the last stanza Rogero dashes his head repeatedly against the walls of his prison; and, finally, so hard as to produce a visible contusion. He then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops—the music still continuing to play till it is wholly fallen..