No. II.

Nov. 27, 1797.

In the specimen ofJacobin Poetrywhich we gave in our last number was developed a principle, perhaps one of the most universally recognised in the Jacobin creed; namely, “that the animadversion ofhuman lawuponhuman actionsis for the most part nothing butgross oppression; and that, in all cases of the administration ofcriminal justice, the truly benevolent mind will consider only theseverity of the punishment, without any reference to themalignity of the crime”. This principle has of late years been laboured with extraordinary industry, and brought forward in a variety of shapes, for the edification of the public. It has been inculcated in bulky quartos, and illustrated in popular novels. It remained only to fit it with a poetical dress, which had been attempted in theInscriptionforChepstow Castle, and which (we flatter ourselves) was accomplished in that forMrs. Brownrigg’s Cell.

Another principle, no less devoutly entertained, and no less sedulously disseminated, is thenatural and eternal warfare of thePOORand theRICH. In those orders and gradations of society, which are the natural result of the original difference of talents and of industry among mankind, the Jacobin sees nothing but a graduated scale of violence and cruelty. He considers every rich man as an oppressor, and every person in a lower situation as the victim of avarice, and the slave of aristocratical insolence and contempt. These truths he declaresloudly, not to excite compassion, or to soften the consciousness of superiority in the higher, but for the purpose of aggravating discontent in the inferior orders.

A human being, in the lowest state of penury and distress, is a treasure to the reasoner of this cast. He contemplates, he examines, he turns him in every possible light, with a view of extracting from the variety of his wretchedness new topics of invective against the pride of property. He, indeed (if he is a true Jacobin), refrains fromrelievingthe object of his compassionate contemplation; as well knowing that every diminution from the general mass of human misery must proportionably diminish the force of his argument.

This principle is treated at large by many authors. It is versified in sonnets and elegies without end. We trace it particularly in a poem by the same author [Southey] from whom we borrowed our former illustration of the Jacobin doctrine of crimes and punishments. In this poem, the pathos of the matter is not a little relieved by the absurdity of the metre. We shall not think it necessary to transcribe the whole of it, as our imitation does not pretend to be so literal as in the last instance, but merely aspires to convey some idea of the manner and sentiment of the original. One stanza, however, we must give, lest we should be suspected of painting from fancy, and not from life.

The learned reader will perceive that the metre isSapphic, and affords a fine opportunity for hisscanningandproving, if he has not forgotten them.

Cōld wăs thē nīght wīnd; drĭftĭng fāst thĕ snōws fĕll;Wīde wĕre thē dōwns, ānd shĕltĕrlēss ănd nākēd:Whēn ă poōr wānd’rēr strŭgglĕd ōn hĕr joūrnĕy,Wēāry ănd wāy-sōre.[9]

Cōld wăs thē nīght wīnd; drĭftĭng fāst thĕ snōws fĕll;

Wīde wĕre thē dōwns, ānd shĕltĕrlēss ănd nākēd:

Whēn ă poōr wānd’rēr strŭgglĕd ōn hĕr joūrnĕy,

Wēāry ănd wāy-sōre.[9]

_The FRIEND of HUMANITY and the KNIFE-GRINDER._—Scene. _The Borough, in Imitation of Mr. Southey’s_ Sapphics.—Vide. _Anti-Jacobin._ p. 15.

This is enough; unless the reader should wish to be informed how

Fāst o’ĕr thē blēāk hēāth răttlĭng drōve ă chārīōt;

Or how, not long after,

Loūd blĕw thē wīnd, ūnhēārd wăs hēr cŏmplāinĭng—Ōn wĕnt thĕ hōrsemān.

Loūd blĕw thē wīnd, ūnhēārd wăs hēr cŏmplāinĭng—

Ōn wĕnt thĕ hōrsemān.

We proceed to give ourImitation, which is of theAmœbæanorCollocutorykind.

Friend of Humanity.[10]“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 andScissars 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? orCovetous parson, for his tithes distraining?Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your littleAll 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 yourPitiful 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, wereTorn in a scuffle.“Constables came up for to take me intoCustody; 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 inA pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;But for my part, I never love to meddleWith politics, sir.”Friend of Humanity.“Igive thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first—Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance—Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,Spiritless outcast!”

Friend of Humanity.[10]

“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!

“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 andScissars to grind O!”

“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

Scissars 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?

“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? orCovetous parson, for his tithes distraining?Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your littleAll in a lawsuit?

“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 yourPitiful story.”

“(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, wereTorn in a scuffle.

“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 a scuffle.

“Constables came up for to take me intoCustody; they took me before the justice;Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish--Stocks for a vagrant.

“Constables 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 inA pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;But for my part, I never love to meddleWith politics, sir.”

“I should be glad to drink your Honour’s health in

A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;

But for my part, I never love to meddle

With politics, sir.”

Friend of Humanity.

“Igive thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first—Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance—Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,Spiritless outcast!”

“Igive thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first—

Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs 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.]

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