A satirical invective against early republicans, written by a Prime Minister-to-be, suggest by Zack Stiling, which could easily be discharged against certain modern political speakers.
Published in “The Anti-Jacobin, or, Weekly Examiner was an English newspaper founded by George Canning in 1797 and devoted to opposing the radicalism of the French Revolution. It lasted only a year, but was considered highly influential” (From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anti-Jacobin)
“This satirical poem contrasts two perspectives: a radical who espouses the ideals of the French Revolution and a pragmatic working-class individual. The speaker’s initial sympathy for the knife-grinder’s plight turns into contempt when he refuses to align with revolutionary sentiments.” (From https://allpoetry.com/The-Friend-Of-Humanity,-And-The-Knife-Grinder)
George Canning (1770-1827) & John Hookham Frere (1769-1846)
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 a scuffle.
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 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:
I give 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.
